Electric Web (A Peter Parker Fanfiction)

Mocking (Part 11)

Swearing, Descriptions of being drugged, Description of suicidal thoughts (Kind of), descriptions of wounds, descriptions of electrocution, kidnapping, descriptions of being chained up, Descriptions of getting injected with a syringe, DefiantWhumpee, Each chapter will have it's own warnings!! I am not an ER nurse, so I did my best, but I'm not an expert. I am but a girl with google. If I missed anything, let me know!

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Astoria's P.O.V

I feel my head throbbing before I even open my eyes, my heartbeat hammering in my head as if my brain is trying to break from the safe confines of my skull. I try to pry my eyes open, my first thought to search for whatever is making the room so cold, a breeze from somewhere unseen endlessly piercing my clammy skin. I'm laying on something hard, and flat. My shoulder and hip digging uncomfortably into whatever is beneath me as I lie slumped on my side.

My eyes barely open, let alone focus as I try in futile attempts to blink myself awake, my eyelids feeling like they're being weighed down by some invisible force begging me to fall back into a restless sleep. I finally manage to get them to stay open for more than a second, and even through my blurry vision, I can tell this isn't my room. Or, anywhere in the apartment, for that matter.

Wherever I am, it's dark, and fucking cold.

A groan leaves my lips as I force my eyes to stay open, my head throbbing somehow harder than before. I try to move my hand up to my head, but I'm only met with rattling, and hard metal pulling and pressing against my wrists as I try to move my arms from behind my back.

Am I handcuffed?

I manage to get enough of my vision back to look around me, lifting my head to look around the dim, concrete room. Hardly any light is coming in, sans through a tiny ventilation window at the very top of a wall, a small beam of sunshine barely poking through. Just enough to let me see, if barely.

I'm near the corner of the room, almost directly across from what looks like a counter. The walls and floor are rough concrete, surprisingly clean for how dingy it seems in here. look down at my body, my hands chained behind my back as I lie on the harsh concrete floor, still in my dress and heels from the party.

The party?

Peter.

Where is Peter? Is he okay?

Mason. That's right. Mason got me. where am I?

Okay. Stay calm, take a breath, nothing is happening right now. Just, figure out where you are, and then you can work it out from there.

I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes, and using all the strength I can manage to push myself away from the floor, the concrete digging into the skin of my elbow as I push myself up and into a sitting position.

My breath feels heavy, almost hollow as I try to regain some semblance of rhythm in my breathing, only met by sharp breaths and shaky exhales. I tug on the chains behind me, testing how much room I have to move around. I could maybe get up on my knees, if I tried. Or, If I had the energy to.

I lean against the wall behind me, my forearms and shoulder blades aching from the position they're being forced into. I can feel a huge bruise already forming on the outside of my forearm where I was laying on the ground, my arm throbbing and sore. 

Across the room from me, there's a small staircase. Maybe three or four steps leading up to a door. I guess that's my only way out. 

The long satin dress clings uncomfortably to my damp skin, and my feet throb in my heels. I wonder how long I've been down here in them. It was, what, maybe 8pm at the latest when I got knocked out, and I can very clearly seen the sun poking through that little window.