The hanging halo

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This chapter contains triggering topics such as suicide and SH so if you are sensitive please skip over.

I've gone over and re-written these like 9 times now 🫡

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Peter was tired.

But a tired he couldn't sleep away, no matter how much he tried, and he had tried a lot, so much he actually wrote a list, a list of all the things he tried and all the things he had yet too.

He took himself on walks, he tried to hang out with friends, he watched all his favourite shows, but nothing could give him the little spark he was looking for.

He felt so sad, so tired. So sick but a sick that no medication could fix, or at least it didn't feel like it.

At first Peter thought he was just having a bad day, but it had all turned into so much more than a bad day, It turned into a bad week.

And then a bad week turned into a bad 3 weeks. And then into a bad month, and soon it had been 7 bad months. His days all merging together and he felt like it was all going so fast, he couldn't even remember what he had done yesterday

He was drowning and he couldn't even be bothered to keep himself afloat anymore.

He had tried so hard to, tried so hard to smile and laugh, to act like he was before, happy and bubbly. But things had began to feel so much worse.

He had let everyone down and he was even letting himself down, picking up on some habits he was not so proud of. But his habits had felt like the only thing he had going for him, the little red lines keeping him company through the long lonely nights.

He felt like he was making so many mistakes, and the more mistakes he made the more lines he drew.

Every mistake he made becoming much more visible to him, breaking the tip of the pencil led. Nocking over a glass, dropping his school books. All of these little things ruining his days much more than they should, like the world knew he was close to breaking, like it was taunting him.

But there were some mistakes he just couldn't brush over.

He had fucked up badly on patrol, there was a fire, he had tried his hardest, tried so hard to keep Everyone safe, to get everyone out.

But one man didn't make it. He had inhaled to much smoke and Peter had watched the paramedics try and wake him but he could hear the mans heart stop before they even laid him down.

He listened to his wife cry, the man's daughter bundled up in the sobbing woman's arms. The memory made his brain rot, his knuckles turn white from how hard he was gripping the sink.

Ben.

Why did he have to let Ben down, he had chosen spite over his uncle, the man who had taken him in, raised him. He just fucked everything up for everyone didn't he.

He let May down, God. Aunt May. The bills were drowning the poor woman, but she refused to ask anyone for help, not even the billionaire that was mentoring her nephew.

Through the long lonely nights he had had time to think, think about everything, like how much money he actually cost to keep alive.

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