From The Dark | Peter Parker x OC ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Five

A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter is so short and it took so long to upload. The problem was that I was trying to write a scene at the end but every time I tried to, I would just get writer's block and I finally realized that it was because the scene didn't really make any sense. It felt kind of out of character and just very bleh.

In other news, college starts next monday so anyone want to dig me a grave? I'd happily jump in. God, I hate waking up early and trying to run on like 3 hours of sleep every day. It is the worst. And then updates will get slower too because of all the homework so just ughhhhhh. I can't wait for summer vacation. If you can't dig me a grave, get me a time machine so I can like skip this entire semester. Seriously. I'm dreading it so much.

On a side, happier note, I finally finished binge watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine (NINE NINE) and The Good Place and so now I don't really know what to do with my life anymore. Why is it always so damn hard to recover from finishing a series? Is there really even a right way? I mean, I always find a rebound that ends up consuming my life until I finish it and then the cycle starts all over again. It's endless torture. Gah! By the way, if you haven't watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Seriously drop everything right now and watch it. It's sooooooo good.

Anyway, this chapter is mostly the funeral and wrapping up some other loose ends. The next chapter will probably start with a small time skip but I'm not sure I'll have to double check that. Anyway, enjoy this chapter even though it's not even 2,000 words long :)

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"I love you."

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The cops had made it to his house before he had. The flashing blue and red lights hurt his eyes, but he didn't bother trying to shield them. At the moment, Peter couldn't feel very much of anything except the piercing pain in his skull every time the lights flashed. He was numb inside out.

The rain had finally died down but Peter was still shivering under his soaked clothes. It didn't matter. His uncle was gone. And Peter hadn't even been able to kill that bastard who had shot him. He curled his hand into a fist. It didn't make any more sense every time he thought about it. One minute, that man was there, but the next...How could someone disappear that quickly? He had held a gun to that man's forehead the whole time.

Peter twisted open the door, stepping inside. The room was filled with detectives and police. None of them paid any attention to him. He slipped by into the kitchen where he found Aunt May talking to a detective. The moment Peter saw her, he froze. What had he done? It was his fault that Uncle Ben had died tonight. But he wasn't just his uncle. He had also been a loving husband. Now Aunt May was a widowed woman.

Peter made a tight fist in his pocket, a wave of anger hitting him. Who was he angry at? Himself? The thief who had killed his uncle? God?

"Oh my goodness, Peter!" May cried, jumping from her seat. She threw her arms around him and hugged him close. After a moment's hesitation, Peter did the same.

"May," he croaked into her hair. His vision turned blurry and he blinked the tears away, swallowing. "I'm sorry, May."

She just hugged him tighter. There were no words left to say.

"Excuse me ma'am," a detective said, clearing his throat. Peter unwrapped his arms, stepping back. He shamefully stared at the ground.

"The sketch artist just handed this to us," he said, holding up a paper with the sketch of a man, "Do you recognize him?"