The impact hits before the thought does.
My fist slams into the door panel again, harder this time, and something inside it gives. Sparks snap and hiss, a sharp electrical buzz filling the air as the lock system dies with a choked whine. The door is useless now. Sealed shut by force alone.
Good.
I slide down the wall, knees pulling to my chest, forehead dropping forward as the weight of everything finally caves in. My chest burns. My hands shake. I can't tell if the buzzing I hear is the broken lock or my own blood rushing too loud in my ears.
"I need May," I whisper.
The words feel fragile. Dangerous.
"No," I correct myself immediately, jaw tightening. "No. I can handle this. I can."
The lie tastes familiar.
My feet carry me to the bathroom on autopilot, vision blurred, tears streaking hot and relentless. The light is too bright. The room feels wrong. The mirror shows me something hollow and cracked that doesn't look like a hero or an intern or a kid who belongs anywhere.
Something on the floor catches my eye.
I sink down beside it, shame flooding in hard and fast. This again. The same dead end. The same thought that maybe pain will quiet the noise if I make it loud enough.
It doesn't.
It never does.
The room starts to tilt, edges warping as my breathing spirals out of control. Too fast. Too shallow. The walls press inward, shrinking, crushing. I brace my palms against the tile, desperate for something solid.
"Peter," FRIDAY's voice cuts in, sharp with concern. "Your heart rate is dangerously elevated. You appear injured. Shall I alert Mr Stark?"
"No!" I shout, the word tearing out of me before I can stop it. "Don't—don't tell him."
Silence follows. Heavy. Watching.
The light changes.
Orange and gold bleed through the narrow vent window as the sun sinks low, the warmth almost mocking. Without thinking—without planning—my body moves.
Instinct takes over.
My hands grip, muscles snapping tight as I haul myself upward. The glass is cool for half a second before it shatters outward, alarms screaming silently in my head as I throw myself through the opening.
Air.
Freedom.
Regret.
The realization hits mid-fall.
"SHIT!"
I reach for my wrists on reflex.
Nothing.
No web shooters.
They're still in the lab.
Of course they are.
Panic detonates.
I claw at the glass as I plummet, palms scraping painfully, skin burning as gravity drags me faster. The ground is coming up too fast—too fast—
Then I see it.
The tree.
I twist, legs swinging hard, boots slamming against the building just enough to redirect me. My hands catch the branch, the force jarring everything at once—
Crunch.
Pain explodes through my shoulders.
My grip fails.
I hit the grass hard, the impact knocking the breath clean out of me. The world goes white, then dark, then slowly back into focus.
I lie there gasping, chest heaving, the smell of dirt and mulch filling my lungs. Every part of me aches. My arms scream. My head spins.
"Oh my god," I mutter hoarsely. "Oh my god."
I manage to roll onto my side, vision swimming, staring up at the Tower looming above me like it's judging my existence.
Tony is going to kill me.
Or worse.
He's going to be disappointed.
I drag myself upright inch by inch, every movement a negotiation with pain. Standing feels like a mistake, but staying here feels worse.
"I've officially made everything worse," I whisper to myself, bitter and exhausted.
By the time I start moving, I know it's already too late. FRIDAY saw the window. The sensors saw the fall. Tony will know.
So I walk anyway.
Away from the Tower. Toward the city. Toward noise and motion and anything that isn't my own head.
Halfway there, I reach into my pockets.
Empty.
No phone.
No way to call May.
No way to explain.
No way back.
The weight of it all crashes down at once, heavier than the fall ever was.
I did this.
And now I have no idea how to fix it.
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A/N
Hey, you lovely people!
Thank you so much for all the love and support my story has been getting. Keep the comments coming; you guys are so creative.
A lot of you are asking for more chapters, so I have quickly put together a dramatic chapter. I hope it lives up to expectations. I plan on writing more chapters as soon as possible, but I have a lot going on at the moment, from university to planning a wedding and getting a bunch of medical diagnoses.
All I ask from all of you is a little patience and kindness when it comes to updating. I'm doing my best.
Yours truly, Ghostly Cabbage xx
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Bruised But Not Broken - Irondad/spiderson
FanfictionPeter Parker is tired. Tired of scraping by, of pretending he's fine, of enduring a school bully while carrying struggles no one knows about. Living in a cramped apartment with his aunt, Peter learns how to disappear - how to survive quietly. A scho...
