Hungry

Chapter 3

Peter POV

I woke up relatively early this morning, but as usual, Aunt May was already gone for work, so I didn't expect to eat anything. But as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I saw a sticky note on the fridge, with Aunt May's handwriting.

Eat breakfast and have a great day at school

Love, 

Aunt May~

I roll my eyes, before helping myself to a granola bar, too lazy to make myself anything. I down it with a Sunny D before leaving. I decided to walk to school instead of taking the subway like I normally did. As I bop my head to the music coming from my headphones when I realized something. I didn't go on patrol last night. I groan loudly, earning me a small glance from a few people as I rounded a block.

I rushed into the school building, shuffled to my locker, put my things inside, leaned against my locker and patiently waited for Ned to approach me for our daily Nerd Chat.

But instead of seeing Ned, I see Flash from the corner of my eye. "Goddamnit," I muttered under my breath, swiftly turning back around a pretending to look in my locker. "Puny Parker," Flash hissed, his breath hitting me so hard my eyes watered. His breath smelled like garlic, onions, and milk. Strange combination, I know.

He grabbed my shoulder, his nail seeming to pierce my skin. I winced slightly, knowing it would be healed by lunch as he turned me around to face him. He shoved a piece of paper in my face, and I squinted slightly. It was Math homework. "Do it, or you can kiss your ass goodbye," Flash threatened, followed by a short growl.

If only Spiderman were here. I would be able to beat Flash a millisecond. As I began to do the simple math question, Ned came around the corner. "Hey, Pete!" Ned said in a fake cheerful tone. "I don't remember us getting math homework," Ned said with wide eyes and smile. I wanted to laugh so badly. Ned slowly took the homework out of my hands before handing Flash. "I think this is your..."

Flash was practically fuming, and he brought his fist up, causing both of us to flinch, only for the bell to ring. "Excuse us we have class," I said in a British accent before me and Ned went off to our Spanish class. Classes seemed to be easy for the most part, the last class was English. My eyebrows furrowed together at the teacher.

He sounded like the adults from the Peanuts series.  The bell finally rang and I was quick to shove my belonging into my bag when the teacher stopped me along with the other eager students. "Ah, the bell does not dismiss you, I dismiss you," the teacher scolded. "Ugh!" The class groaned in unison before everyone pushed past the teacher and escaped the classroom.

My hands felt clammy and dry, and I decided to walk to the bathroom, splash my face, and then head to lunch. My spidey-sense seemed to be going off and I couldn't see to figure out why. As I walked into the bathroom and turned on the sink, I looked up into the mirror and saw someone behind me. Flash.

He slammed my head into the mirror, breaking it. I let out a short cry of pain, mostly because I was expecting it. In all honesty, it didn't hurt. I fell to the ground, holding my now bleeding head. Flash kicked me straight in my stomach, and it hurt like a bitch.  Flash kicked me repeatedly, and I closed my eyes, enduring the pain, patiently waiting for him to stop. I don't know how long it lasted, but I do remember hearing a sharp gasp.

"What are you doing to him?!" 

I open my eyes to see a boy shoving Flash away, punching him straight in the jaw.  Wade Wilson. That's his name. Flash fell straight to the ground, cupping his jaw, as Wade knelt down beside me. "You okay cutie," Wade asked, petting my head and looking me up and down for wounds.

"I...I," I couldn't seem to be able to form a sentence. Wade frowned, before looking over at Flash with pure hatred, punching him down again. "What'd he do to you, dick?!" Wade scooped me up and escorted me to the infirmary. "What happened?!" The nurse exclaimed in horror. 

Wade laid me down on something soft. "He got jumped," Wade explained simply, giving my forehead and swift peck before leaving. The nurse quickly went to address my bruising stomach. "Name?" The nurse asked. "Peter--" I let out a soft painful groan as the nurse pressed a wet rag covered in alcohol against my wound. "Parker," I hissed.

The nurse hummed in acknowledgment before she began to dial aunt May's number. "She's working late today, she won't be able to pick up," I choked out. "Any emergency contacts?" The nurse asked with a frown.

The pain became unbearable and darkness took over my vision.