The Night Skies ~ Avengers

CHAPTER 2

If the bathroom had felt like a horror movie, the bathtub was pure hell. There, in the tub, lay our aunt May. She looked different, lifeless.

Blood painted her stomach, and her hair clung to her bloodied head like a matted curtain. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in a look of sheer terror that would haunt my dreams forever.

"Peter..." I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of the nightmare we were in . But Peter was already diving into action. His eyes widened in shock, glistening with welling tears that threatened to spill over.

It didn't take long before his instincts kicked in. "Stay here," he ordered me, his voice surprisingly firm despite the shaky breath that followed.

I could only nod, my gaze still fixated on May as he brushed past me and dashed out of the bathroom in a hurry. While Peter seemed to have some sort of grasp on the situation, I could only stand there, paralyzed, staring at the horror scene.

It felt unreal. Just that morning, our aunt had been full of life, sarcastic and chatty as usual, and now she lay there, dead.

The glim reality hit me like a brick wall. The memories of her flooded my mind, no longer inducing smiles but rather serving as a cruel reminder of everything I would never have again. We wouldn't ever talk or laugh together again. No. She was gone, forever.

In mere seconds, Peter returned to my side, a phone clutched tightly in his hand.

"I'm calling Mr. Stark," he announced, his voice tight with urgency.

I finally snapped out of my shock and turned to him, my heart racing. "No, we should call the police," I insisted, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Look..." Peter started, his tone serious, "...our aunt was just murdered. Whoever did this might come for us next. We can't trust anyone, not even the police" he finished his reasoning.

Lines of worry etched deeper into his face, mirroring my own expression, and I could see the fear trembling in his eyes.

I understood where he was coming from, but the thought of someone out there wanting us dead was terrifying, and so unbelievable.

I wanted to argue, to assure him that nobody would murder us, that there was no reason to do so. But that theory had already crumbled to pieces, because May's body lay cold before us.

Peter dialed a number, pressing the phone to his ear as I stepped out of the bathroom unable to stand the sickening, metallic smell of the blood any longer.

Leaning my head against the hallway wall, I tried to close my eyes and will myself somewhere far away — maybe at school, or in a park, anywhere that wasn't at this murder scene.

But my mind betrayed me, replaying the harrowing images imprinted in my memory; they invaded every thought, a living nightmare.

"They're on their way," Peter announced, his voice heavy with defeat. A sense of finality settled over us.

"Okay," I murmured, barely above a whisper. I glanced at Peter. Now that all we could do was wait, the lines of worry etched in his face and the hardness in his eyes had given way to a solemn look that felt almost foreign.

I reached for Peter's hand, guiding him out of the bathroom; neither of us should have been there, caught in the grip of horror we couldn't comprehend

                     ~~~~~~~~

The silence in the living room stretched for what felt like an eternity as Peter and I sat on the couch, the weight of our thoughts pressing down on us like an iron blanket. 

I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling within me. Every creak of the floorboards sent adrenaline rushing through my veins. This doesn't feel like home anymore, it's a house of horror and I'm afraid to even be here.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a decisive slam, and in burst Mr. Stark, a commanding presence even amidst the dim light of our living room. His deep-set eyes scanned the room, followed by the quick, purposeful strides of his colleagues. 

I recognized them, I'd met them once or twice when May invited them for dinner, and when Peter had asked me to accompany him to work, excited to show his projects. 

A tall man I recognized as Steve Rogers met my eyes and he showed a look of sorrow. 

A woman, Natascha, was the first to take action, focused on the situation instead of us. "Where is she?" she asked, looking between us, slightly out of breath, they must have rushed here, though it felt like eternity for them to arrive. 

I noticed the lack of response from the boy on my side. "Bathroom to the left." was all I said, my eyes once again focused in the distance. It won't be hard for her to find it, I can smell it from here and I'm sure they can too. 

I could hear the creaking floorboard with two sets of steps. The door handle being pushed down and then two muted gasps of shock. There was nothing that could prepare anyone for such a sight.

I could feel the stare of Mr. Stark and glanced to my right. He seemed unsure of what to do. He just stood there and stared at us, mouth agape. Our eyes met and he tried to muster up words.

"I.." he started, doubting his words. What do you say to two kids who just lost the last family member they had? "Are you sure?" he started, "..that its her." he added his voice trembling.

I know that he was fond of her and even a man like Tony Stark is incapable of hiding the emotions that accompanny grief.

Peter nodded, his eyes wide, tears rolling down his face. He took one look at Mr. Stark and shot up from the couch to indulge him in a hug, that was all it took for him to completely break down.

 His sobs echoed through the quiet house, accompanied with the howling wind and the rain rolling down the windows, as if the weather was grieving with us.

I had never seen Peter like that, he always seemed strong, capable of handling anything. Seeing him break down caused a lump to form in my throat and tears to well up in my own eyes, but I couldn't let them fall. I was mostly still numb and unsure of how to react to the situation.

Natascha and Steve were still conversing in the bathroom. Their voices seemed to grow louder and I could hear them walk through the other rooms in the apartment. They must be exploring the rest of the house. 

We hadn't even thought of doing that, there must be a weapon, signs of forced entry, something that could tell us what happened and who did this. 

The voices in the house etched closer, an anxious symphony of urgency, as Natascha and Steve stepped into the hall. The four of them seemed to fall in a deep discussion, a cloud of worry filled the room. Yet, their voices drifted to an echo as I was once again swallowed by my own thoughts. 

"We have to go," Steve urged no one in particular, his voice sharp, slicing through the fog in my mind. There was a commanding urgency in his tone that brooked no argument, a flicker of fear that sent a shiver down my spine.

"We need to leave now, whoever did this might come for us next." Peter echoed and this time the words were pointed at me, worried that Steves' words hadn't reached me yet. I stood up and Peter pulled me closer, his grip on my wrist firm but not unkind, pulling me toward the door, afraid the only family I had would be lost as well. 

His eyes were wide with a mix of determination and something darker, perhaps dreadful. I found it hard to place his expressions, I had never seen emotions like that in him.

Natascha and Steve hurried behind us. Together, we descended the stairs in a rush, each footfall a jolt back to reality. The once-familiar surroundings felt alien now, like a stage turned upside down. My heart raced as we reached the sleek black sports car parked outside, and climbed inside. I looked through the window right as Steve swung the front door closed.

Just an hour ago, I stood in that very spot, laughing with Peter. Now, all that remained were the echoes of our earlier happiness, replaced by a cold and empty silence.

The night loomed ahead, dark and unknown, and as we pulled away from the chaos behind us, I could only wonder how quickly everything had changed, and what would await us.