Spider-Woman: Origin

6. Spider-Woman: Inkling

My eyes fluttered open. I gazed ahead at the window, the blinds partly open with nothing but darkness beyond. I lay there for some time motionless until signs of dawn peered through the blinds. I waited with the hope sleep would find me again. Instead, I lay in the emptiness I felt within and the silence that had befallen my house.

It didn't feel that long ago when my sister would creep into my room in the early mornings. The air would be filled with our hushed laughter until the scent of breakfast wafted into my room before dad's voice echoed off the walls with the demand that we come down to eat. I waited within the silence to hear his voice again, to smell the food he conjured up for us in the early mornings. I waited to hear my mother and father's voices drifting up the stairs. However, it never came. I watched as the orange hue of dawn turned into signs of midday and quickly to dusk. Sometime after, sleep found me and took me into the depths of what felt like peace. It only lasted moments until I was awake again, gazing at the same window with the sun's rays creeping through.

I forced myself into a sitting position while my stomach's emptiness caused an ache against my ribs. The fullness of my bladder drove me out of my bedroom. I quickly pried the door open and was immediately greeted by the smell of bacon. My stomach grumbled. I crossed the hall and made a right into the open doorway. In one swift motion, I flicked the light on, shut the door and sat on the cold, porcelain seat to relieve myself. A sigh sounded from me. I sat up to flush and gazed at myself in the mirror. Tired eyes stared back at me. I grew bewildered at the girl in the mirror who hadn't aged in the five years that went by, but held a plethora of emotions behind her eyes.

I exited the bathroom and descended the stairs. The smell of bacon grew stronger with each step. My stomach ached. The tile floor following the carpeted steps was cool to the touch and I immediately regretted coming down barefoot. My hunger led me forward and through the narrow hallway leading into the kitchen. Jordyn and mom's hushed voices silenced as I entered the room. They stopped in their movements to gaze upon me, their expressions a mix between shock and relief.

"She lives," Jordyn quipped.

I ignored her comment and turned my attention to the plate of bacon sizzling on the stove. The sound filled the otherwise quiet room as Jordyn carefully flipped the eggs in the pan.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast?" Mom asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. I nodded and took the plates she passed me. "Set these on the table, will you?"

Despite the emptiness in my stomach, I felt a sudden urge to return to bed. Yet, I complied, glancing at my father's obituary taped to the fridge. I suppressed the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over. Setting the plates on the table, I stared at the empty seat at the head. Memories flooded back—our laughter, the clatter of dinnerware, my father's deep voice filling the room with warmth and scolding. It ached to realize I would never hear him again.

"Jess?"

I tore my gaze from the vacant chair to see Jordyn standing in the doorway with two plates of eggs and bacon. "How you doing?" she asked, placing the plates in the middle of the table.

"As well as one can after learning her father was murdered," I replied, my tone sharp.

"Orange or apple juice, girls?" Mom called from the kitchen, oblivious to the tension.

"Apple," we replied in unison, exchanging glares. Mom shuffled about, the sound of clinking glasses filling the silence.

The air was thick with unspoken words. I had every right to be angry, yet I felt conflicted. Jordyn had her reasons, but they did little to quell the fire inside me.

"How long are you going to stay mad at me?" she pressed.

I scoffed. "I didn't realize I could put an expiration date on my emotions."