Flowers in the Window || W2S

23

If you're doomscrolling, or upset in any way, or scared of anything that might happen now that a certain individual is in power again, you can stop for a few minutes now. My books are a safe space for anyone, regardless of who you are. It doesn't matter where you are in the world right now-whether you are affected by recent events, or if you're just not feeling good today. Take a moment. Breathe. It'll all be alright. I believe in you.

Sudden silences were never a good thing. The pipe trembled in your grasp, shaking along with the rest of your body as you began to navigate the steel mill, desperately trying to find Harry, Bryce and the witch and finally put an end to this madness. Because you'd lost the sound of Bryce's screams, and that scared you. Did that mean Harry had won, or did you have to fear the worst?

The only sounds were your footsteps, echoing through the assembly line as you slowly walked through, listening out for anything, pipe always raised in case of a sudden attack. You absolutely refused to go into another coma-the memories that had resurfaced after the first one had impacted your mind too much. You'd become weaker, less confident, more dependent on others. It had to stop somehow, and if this was the way, then so be it.

The loading bay was, to your horror, equally as quiet. Sneaking through the double doors, trying to make as little noise as possible, you were instead greeted by the silence you were creating yourself. There was nothing. No shouts, no cries, no words. Nothing at all.

Until you began climbing the stairs to the manager's office.

Your steps became louder. You began to sprint, throwing some caution to the wind. The voices were still distant, even when you reached the top of the stairs. The door was jammed, but a few swift hits from your pipe broke it down to reveal Bryce, curled in a ball on the floor. His hands were tied behind his back, but other than that, he looked to be completely fine. Tension melted away from your chest.

Crossing the room, you put the sharp end of the pipe against the ropes and began to cut your uncle free. He turned his head, craning to get a glimpse of your face as he said, "You shouldn't be here."

"If you and Harry are here," you replied, "then this is where I am too. I love you both too much to sit back and watch."

The ropes snapped, and you managed to pull Bryce to his feet. He leaned his arm against your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist and helped him over to the nearby desk, where he sat down, cheeks pale and sickly-looking.

"Where are they?" The shouts hadn't gotten any louder, but they also hadn't gotten any quieter.

"Somewhere on the roof," he responded. "He made her chase him outside to make sure I didn't get hurt. It's times like this where I'm glad this steel mill isn't exactly close to any houses. The estate's not that far away, but I don't think anyone there will be in the firing line."

"Good," you said, and then you noticed a large cut going down the side of his head. With nothing else to do right now-not without endangering yourself, at least-you located a first aid kit and began cleaning out his wound.

After a few seconds, Bryce got bored of the silence. "So, when did Harry tell you he was Spider-Man?"

"He didn't," you replied, and nothing could stop the slight hint of smugness that crept into your tone. "I figured it out myself."

Bryce smiled. "Clever girl. Your mother would be so proud, you know. Of everything you've done since she passed."

You paused the cleaning and looked into Bryce's eyes for a moment. Not your mother's eyes-hers were both a different colour and a different shape. But they both still held the same level of kindness and warmth. And, in an odd familial way you hadn't figured out yet, they also held the same level of beauty to them. Loving, caring eyes, that had cried a lot of tears and supported a lot of smiles. Eyes that were basically part of you-eyes that would be imprinted into your core memories for however long you lived.