Eddie One Shots

Let Him Down

"So, tell me about how your situation at home is going."

He fiddled with the ring on his finger nervously. His legs bounced up and down rapidly, his gaze never leaving the ground. There were so many things he was holding back, so much to say, he just didn't know how, or if he even wanted to and it was blatantly obvious. 

Who could blame him, it hurt too much to talk about it. He would rather shove it down and forget, pretend that everything was perfectly fine. Even if that was the complete opposite to his reality. It's not like the person sitting patiently across from him was trained to help with problems like this.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me Peter."

It was the same, every time. Nothing had changed since their last appointment. She wasn't helping, so what was the point? How was she supposed to help anyways? At birth he was nearly taken to a foster home. Luckily his grand parents offered to raise him for the first few years of his life, otherwise who knows what would have happened. He had no father, and most of the time, no mother to take care of him.

At about the age of five, his mother was released from the mental institution she was locked up in and trialed to take care of her son. So she did, for about half a year before she fell back into drugs and alcohol. 

Peter was then taken away from her again, brought back to his grandparents while his mother went back to jail. Then for the next three years she was in and out of jail, struggling with her addictions till she went to rehab. 

She wanted so badly to get better, she knew it wasn't healthy and wanted to be able to take care of her son. He already had no dad, it wasn't fair that he didn't have a mother especially if she was still walking on this planet alive and somewhat well. 

After about four years, she was eventually deemed fit enough to raise her ten year old son. Finally her hard work had paid off. She got the only thing she had left, back. Her little Peter. She knew how hard it would be to make up for all the missing time. But she was willing to do anything.

Even without her, he grew up to be a smart man and he was able to endure so much pain. Like his messed up family and all the terrible rumours about his parents. Everyone in town called them crazy and psychotic. Heck they were probably right. 

"Peter, your mother really thinks these can help."

"Y/n, her name is Y/n, she's not my mother." He spat back, lifting his head. "She's only been in my life for three years, I'm fourteen."

She sighed in defeat, placing her notepad and pen down on the table beside her. It was impossible to help someone who didn't want help.

"She's really trying Peter."

"Obviously not hard enough." With that being said, he pushed his chair back, the metal scraping against the floor as he got up. Then ignoring her protests, he picked up his bag and opened the door to leave. 

He didn't want to be there any longer than necessary and those sessions weren't. They weren't doing any good and he wasn't surprised. His 'mother' had them too and there was no difference there. Still the worst mother in existence.

——

"Hey, look over there!" Someone yelled up ahead, pointing at Peter. "It's the freak!"

"I heard his dad was a psycho killer." They began whispering to each other, snickering to themselves as they clearly were amused with one another. 

It angered him, that they were talking about his dad. Even though he didn't ever get to know him, no one else had the right to mention him. He also didn't want to believe the rumours, he didn't want to be related to a murderer.