Locked Inside [Trans Peter Parker story]

chapter 35: aftermath

The funeral was held the following Sunday. Most of the school attended, several members of the police force, and dozens of other people.

Peter had been crying a lot lately. Wade, MJ, May and Harry were there for him, telling him over and over again that it wasn't his fault. He didn't believe them for a second. The days that passed were long and painful. It felt just like how it did when Uncle Ben died, all over again. Only Peter felt like he let Uncle Ben down. He had sworn on his life that no one would die unless he could do something about it.

He quit his job at the Daily Bugle. When he even stepped foot in that large office on the 57th floor, he went into a full blown panic attack. It all reminded him of Venom; his best friend's murderer.

Peter hadn't put on the Spider-Man suit much since that day, and it had been a week. Guilt slowly made it's way onto his shoulders, and stuck there. It was his fault she died. It was all his fault. God, he fucks up everything he touches, doesn't he? Uncle Ben, one of his best friends; who would be next? Him? Peter wondered many nights if in fact that would be such a bad thing.

...

"That'll be $2.07," the man behind the counter said. Peter put two crumpled dollar bills on the counter, and one nickle. "Uh, I said $2.07."

"Yeah, no I know." Peter was two cents short. A little annoyed that it wouldn't slide by, he took two pennies from a funding thing next to him and tossed it on the counter.

"Yeah no." The man took the two pennies in his hand. "You can leave a penny, you can't take a penny. You can leave a penny anytime, but you have to spend $10 to take a penny. Store policy."

"It's two cents, we're talking about two cents here," Peter pleaded, but the man just shook his head.

"Exactly, it's just two cents. What, daddy din't give you enough milk money?" He asked in a mocking voice.

"Come on man-"

"Step aside kid, you're holding up my line." The person behind Peter impatiently placed a can of beer on the counter as if to say 'fuck off kid, it's my turn'.

Peter pursed his lips, took the money off the table, and turned to walk away. He heard a crash behind him, and whipped his head around. Something had spilled, and the cashier was glaring at the man in line. "Really?" He asked, agitated, and bent down to pick whatever fell. It was then, Peter noticed that the till was open. His mouth gaped a little bit as he watched the man bend over the counter, and take a handful of bills. The guy saw him watching, and tossed him the milk that Peter was trying to buy. Peter swiftly caught it, and only stared as the man as he took the beer with the money, and left.

It only then clicked in his head that he was a superhero, and he's supposed to stop these guys. But something in his gut led him in the other direction, away from the robber, and out of the store.

Peter walked through Queens, sipping on his milk. He didn't know if it was actually expired, or another layer of guilt on his shoulders that made the milk taste sour. What the hell was wrong with him? He could have stopped that guy in maybe 30 seconds flat, and saved the cashier a few dozen extra dollars that he could have taken home. He didn't deserve that milk. So he threw it out in a nearby garbage can; the bottle still being mostly full. He couldn't do anything right. Peter continued to walk down the street in no particular direction, when his phone began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi baby, how are you doing?" Wade's cheerful voice came from the other line.