Whumptober 2024

Survivor's Guilt - Day 21

used another alternative

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The city was alive with its echo of sounds, but in that moment, all I could hear was the steady thump of my heart echoing in my ears. I stood on the edge of a rooftop—my rooftop—overlooking the sprawling canvas of Manhattan. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out like fingers, pulling me back into memories I desperately wished to forget.

"Peter, you got this," I muttered to myself, but the words felt hollow. I should be out there swinging through the city, saving lives. Instead, I was haunted by the weight of one particular night, one mission that had gone horribly wrong.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol. Spider-Man was on the case, ready to protect the innocent and keep the city safe. I was confident, maybe too confident, but isn't that part of being a hero? As I swung through the streets, my thoughts were filled with the thrill of the night, the adrenaline pumping through my veins like a river. But then came the call—an explosion at a small warehouse in Brooklyn.

I remember racing toward the scene, images of lives at stake flashing in my mind. That's when I caught sight of the flames licking the sky, consuming everything in their path. I landed amidst the chaos and saw them—people—crying for help, trapped beneath the rubble. My heart sank. In that moment, I was no longer Spider-Man; I was just Peter Parker, a kid with too much responsibility and not enough power.

I fought through the debris, pulling people to safety, my hands scraping against the sharp edges. I could hear the screams fading beneath the roar of the fire. I could see the terror in their eyes, mirroring my own panic. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reach them all. There was one—an elderly man, clinging to a beam, his eyes wide with fear. I stretched out my hand, promising him I'd get him out... but the building let out a gut-wrenching groan, and before I could pull him free, it collapsed.

I stood frozen as the dust settled and the sirens wailed in the distance. It was a moment etched in my mind, a series of frames I replayed over and over again. All I could hear was his voice, calling for help, and then silence—an unbearable silence.

"Why didn't I save him?" I whispered into the night, my voice trembling. "Why was I too late?"

The guilt washed over me like an icy wave, leaving me breathless. It turned into a haunting shadow, following me wherever I went. I could see his face in every stranger I passed, feel the weight of his life resting on my shoulders. It made it impossible to take a step or swing through the city carefree. Each leap was a painful reminder of my failure, of how I had promised to protect them all.

My friends tried to comfort me. "You did all you could," they'd say. "You saved so many." But it never felt like enough. The lives I had rescued only reminded me of the life I couldn't save. The familiar pang of inadequacy settled in my stomach like a stone; it was a constant companion now.

As I perched on that rooftop, I watched the city dotted with flickering lights, and I felt so small against its enormity. Somewhere below, people went about their lives, blissfully unaware of the burden I carried. I was Peter Parker—an awkward teenager trying to balance school, friends, and the weight of a spider's responsibility.

But I was also Spider-Man—the wall-crawler, the protector, the one who was supposed to save everyone. And with that title came the unyielding expectation to never falter, to shield the innocent from harm. Yet, here I was, drowning in despair over a failure that felt insurmountable.

"Hey, Spider," a familiar voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to see MJ approaching, her brow furrowed with concern. She could always sense when I was spiraling down that dark path. "You're up here again, aren't you?"

I forced a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Just... thinking."

"About the fire?" she asked softly, moving closer.

I nodded, my throat tight. "It's hard to shake off. I should have saved him, MJ. If I had just been a bit faster or... or braver."

She put her hand on my arm, grounding me in that moment. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Peter. You're not a machine. You're human, and you can't save everyone."

Her words sounded wise, but they felt so foreign. "But I have to try! Every time I put on that mask, every time I choose to swing into danger, I do it for people like him. I can't let it go, MJ. How can I move on knowing I failed?"

"By remembering why you do what you do," she said earnestly. "You save lives. You help people. Honor the ones you've lost by continuing to fight, not by allowing their memories to drown you in guilt."