Spider-Woman

Chapter 7

The webbing smacked into the wall, inches away from the paper target I had pinned to the wood.  How was Peter so good at aiming?  Yes, the accuracy was amazing, but what's the good in accuracy if you can't even aim? 

I tried several more times, eventually hitting the outer ring. 

There were 5. 

Next, I began working on my spandex suit.  It didn't take me long to decide how to make it.  I wanted to look like Peter, except for a few tweaks to tell us apart.

Wow.  I was really doing this. 

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The days passed rather quickly.  Eventually I could hit the target (the second ring at best) while running, jumping, and doing other stunts, which I was practicing as well.

Peter made it look easy.

I practiced everyday, but mainly I was just waiting.  Waiting until it was time to make my first move, whatever that was.

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I was jolted awake at night at a loud crack of thunder.  I was still getting used to my new enhanced senses, making me a much lighter sleeper. 

I sensed dripping.  More leaking.  I checked the crack in the ceiling, which I had covered with webbing.  It was still dry; however, there was another, much larger crack forming in the kitchen.  Another one was in the bathroom.

The house was getting old and weak.  How much longer was it going to hold up?

Not very long.

The storm raged for three days, nonstop.  The rain caused lots of erosion, eating away at the dirt in the driveway.  Rivulets formed in the yard, twisting and turning as they traveled downhill.  The thunder was loud and disruptive, and the lightning was bright and blinding. 

I didn't want to go outside to get more food, so I made a large pizza from Domino's last for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all three days, as well as a few slices of bread and a gallon of milk. 

I watched Peter (Spider-Man, that is) on the news.  He had new enemies.  This supplied me with many moves.  But was I ready?

There was a loud shifting noise, jolting me from my daily trance.  And then there was a smash.  And a thud.  Another thud. 

I ran into the hallway, or what I could get to.  The wet, moldy ceiling had caved in.  Rainwater began to trail the floors, soaking my socked feet.  It was cold.  So cold.

That night, I slept on the couch in the living room, since I couldn't reach the bedrooms without getting rained on or having to climb over a mound of rotting wood.

Throughout the night, on two different occasions, more of the ceiling fell in.  The thunder roared louder than ever, and I was practically outside.  I wanted to cry.  I was alone.  No one would see me.  But I didn't.  I forced myself to stay strong.

And I did.

Before the night ended, a deep cracking noise echoed for what seemed like miles.  And then there was a louder noise, one of utter destruction.

I was so lucky.  I was so lucky I slept in the living room that night.  Otherwise, my body would have been buried under a fallen tree.