Skyscraper 🕸️ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ/ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴍᴀɴ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ 🕸️

71. Somebody Else

I'd barely slept in twenty-four hours. 

I underestimated the presence that Nightmare has had in my dreams since all of this has been going down, and now that Peter is cured of the parasite, it seems it's taken it's place much more prominently in my life. 

Every time I've closed my eyes, I see his face. Or I dream a nightmare so vivid that I wake up vomiting.

I didn't bother telling Peter or Flash; they've both been back and forth with me about taking care of my dad. He's slept for the better part of the last day and a half, but he can barely stand to eat and drink anything. 

Peter and Flash think I'm hovering too much, being too worried. So, I didn't bother letting them know I can't sleep. I didn't even think to tell them how it's been making me sick.

Or that the dreams changed for the worst. 

Now, Peter isn't in the black suit anymore. He's there though, and the larger, more animalistic looking version of what Peter looked like with the symbiote inside of him is towering over Peter, who's working hard to defeat the grotesque monster. 

I watch them battle each other on the side lines for what feels like hours, but in reality, it's most likely mere minutes. 

Eventually, Peter impales the large monster, and the black goo retreats from the massive figure's face to reveal Eddie Brock, looking beaten and destroyed by the alien.

The host of the symbiote was killed then, the black goo shriveling up into nothingness against the cement of the massive skyscraper with a clock on top that we're always on in the dreams, and then disappearing. Eddie Brock falls against the floor, blood dripping down the attire he wore back at Oscorp when we invaded for Peter's well-being. 

And then a voice.

That same voice next to me, the one I'd known so well as a child, but barely recognized in my adulthood. 

She stepped forward, meeting Peter's furious stare as his nostrils flared at her in such a rage-filled way that I thought he might destroy her in the instant. I could feel myself begging him not to, not understanding why he would if he wasn't in that black, evil suit anymore. 

And when he got ahold of her to do whatever sinister actions he could against her, she looked at me and begged me for help. To save her. 

But I didn't move in the dream. I remained still, and somehow, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks as if I was crying all along, as if I cried in my sleep because of the nightmare. 

I watched as her body was flung off of the building at such a speed that I almost missed it, and my eyes met Peter's as I realized that it wasn't him who'd thrown her off the massively tall structure. 

Another figure emerged in the nightmare, a man who looked so similarly to my father that I almost believed it was him. Except this man held so much anger in his face that he didn't even seem to regret the murder, his cheeks stained red and wet with tears, and his fists clenched from the way he knocked my mother so hard that she toppled over the tower completely.