Spider-Man | Doesn't Need Help

CHAPTER 1

  I hated stealing. I always felt really bad afterward, and years later, when I looked in the mirror, I saw someone who didn't commit sins. I saw someone who was sin.

Quite often, I went hungry just to avoid stealing a few dollars or something from someone's store. But eventually, I had to. I had to, to survive. Most often, I stole something from the store, though sometimes, to avoid seeming particularly suspicious, I played pickpocket.

“I’m so sorry!” I said automatically, pretending I was truly sorry.

During those five seconds, I managed to pull out the wallet of the man I had just bumped into.

A wealthy, elderly man, he looked at me with a look of disgust that was easily discernible in his eyes.

Did I surprise him?

Absolutely not.

I suspect I might feel them myself if an unkempt, dirty, smelly bum bumped into me.

The man, without saying a word, walked past me, heading in a direction known only to him. I did the same, moving on my way, and only when I was sure I was far enough away did I open my wallet, pull out a hundred dollars, and then throw it in the trash, as there was nothing else in it.

Disgust. It was the only one of the two emotions I still felt most often. The other was hatred. Hatred of myself and everyone around me.

I sighed quietly and then entered the store, giving the salesperson a nice fake smile.

I grabbed a few of the cheapest items, figuring out how many days they would last me. After a few minutes, I left the store with enough food for the next two weeks and an apple in hand, which I intended to eat now.

I started hanging around Manhattan, where I now lived. I hated the neighborhood. Before Adams kidnapped me, I lived in an orphanage in Queens.

I often wonder what the purpose of kidnapping me was. Of course, I never asked, but I suspected the man did it purely for fun. After living with him for several years, I realized he was truly mentally ill. Killing for fun, pointlessly abducting a child, and then torturing him. What sane person does that?

You're probably asking, but what about escape? It was out of the question. My captor had people everywhere, some of whom I had the pleasure of meeting. They would have found me immediately and then killed me.

And although sometimes I thought to myself that maybe it was better this way. Maybe my psyche was really suffering now, but in an orphanage, if I had to suffer for...

"Attention!" Suddenly and out of nowhere I heard first screams and then a loud explosion.

I fell to the ground, trying to protect my head as best I could, as I felt something fall on me. All I could hear was a screeching sound in my ears.

The whole incident didn't last long, after a while I felt as if someone had dropped something heavy off me.

I groaned softly as I felt something sharp pierce my thigh. Just as I thought, a piece of metal pierced a section of my skin.

“Damn,” I cursed under my breath.

“Are you okay, kid?” I looked up at the woman who was looking at me strangely.