Till Death Do Us... Part??

Day 3

Peter's Pov:

After that lame attempt at an escape, I sat in my room for the longest time.

I was petrified that I would be looked at like some kind of weirdo, even more than I was in school for being the only preternatural in town with arachnoid abilities.

No matter, I would rather be looked at like that than to be looked at like I'm the best thing since jelly rolls, and not have Wade.

Honestly, I still couldn't wait until our date, and I swear that everyone is going to try to follow me.

I literally climbed up the wall in excitement when dinner was closing in on us, then stayed up there, nervous that things would go wrong.

This has never happened to me! I've never been this scared and happy at the same time.

I wanted to miss dinner, but finally came down a few minutes later, when a knock came on my door.

I opened the door, still clinging to the top of the door in case I had to move away quickly, but there was a tiny tea cup waiting on the floor.

He was really cute with big eyes and a small chip in his side.

And when he spoke I almost melted at the adorability this child-like object had.

"Hi." It began. "I'm Chip, and you're Peter, right?" So it was a boy.

"Yes, I am." I said picking him up.

"Okay, dinner's ready, and the lord will be waiting for you soon after. He asks that you wear something bright, and formal. A suit would be fine!" He smiled before moving to the edge of my hands.

"Goodbye." He said before I put him down.

Closing the door, I realized that I couldn't just stay in here, wanting to see what Wade had planned too badly.

I made my way to the closet, which had my belongings in it, and opened it to find a great expanse of suits, but only in black and white.

It took me a long while but I found an outfit that was both formal and bright.

I got dressed in a suit that my aunt May made for me, the light yellow vest, black dress shirt and black trousers fitting me perfectly.

Putting on trouser socks, and shiny black dress shoes, I was almost ready to go.

I styled my auburn brown hair into a wave, then patted my cheeks to get some color.

I put on my best smile, and walked out of the room, ready to eat, then meet Wade.

🐹🐣🐐🐨🐐🐣🐹

Like I'd thought, I was stared at like some kind of psycho, and was avoided like the plague.

I didn't care, really. Some part of me still wants to die by his hands, but another part of me wants him to hold me. But it doesn't matter. I continued towards the dining hall, and made my way to my seat and inwardly chuckled at the whispers and stares I received.

Dinner passed by fairly quickly, only being disturbed by the loud chatter of where I was going with 'The Monster'.

"I heard he wants the Beast to kill him." That was true, just not so much now, as it was a few days ago.

"I bet he wants to imprison him." Why would I have any reason to do that, one, and two, he's trapped in his own little cage.

"No, it's definitely for the money, I heard his aunt was involved with the drug cartel, and put him in a shit load of debt." Now that rumor was just plain retarded.

"Shut up dumbass, he's a science major, he probably wants to experiment on him. You know, figure out just what the hell that ugly thing is made of." That comment set me off.

"Experiment?! No, he is just as much human as you or I, and his differences should not affect or afflict his life, or his strength to carry out in a way that everyone else does. If you would try to find out what he really looks like or how he really acts, you would see that he is not the least bit ugly. He has an unnatural Beauty-" I chided those speakers before giving up and eating my food. "Whatever you think, leave it in your heads." I finished with force.

'I have no time to be wasting on the likes of you, who only think blindly, without any truth in the stock of your miniscule brains.'

I fazed out, thinking about whether Wade had more books like the nameless one I'd read the day before, or if that was the only volume he could find.

"That must be an old book, to carry on from one era to another. How many authors wrote it? How many editors read over it? How many sub volumes have been published?" I whispered to myself as I calmly ate, wishing to speed through.

However I looked at it, the subject was weird. It seemed as though the author was one person. Almost like someone other than Wade had lived through what he'd undoubtedly had.

But still, could Wade have written that book? It would explain the large expanse of detail and feelings of intense fury, denial, and pain.

After finishing, I moved back to leave, watching as the magically moving plates and utensils scurried off into the kitchen, to clean themselves.

With a deep sigh of relief I made my way to the doors.

I couldn't wait to see what Wade had in store.