Inseparable ➳ Peter Parker

14 - Wounded

"No no no no no," I muttered under my breath, breaking into a sprint towards the car.

"Camella! Wait!" Liam calls, grabbing for my arm. I shrugged him off and continued running. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spiderman flip into view and check in the truck for the other driver.

The wailing sounds of sirens and murmuring of bystanders were all muted in my ears. All that was going through my head was worry and panic.

I reached the driver's side and gasped at what I saw. Mom, trapped in the car with a huge gash across the side of her head, oozing dark blood. Tears pricked my eyes and my stomach churned as I looked down and saw a large, ripped piece of metal travelling straight through her stomach and out her back, anchoring her to her seat.

Spiderman ran up beside me, checking the damage. "Is she breathing?" he asks worriedly.

"I—I don't know."

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to step back," he said in a strained voice.

"No," I said defiantly. "I can't. She's my mom. She—she was trying to—" I stopped abruptly as I realized.

"Oh my God," I sobbed, holding my hand to my mouth. "I did this."

Spiderman snapped his head in my direction as the ambulance arrived. As the paramedics brought out the stretcher, he looked around, almost seeming overwhelmed. Without any warning, he shot a web up at a building and disappeared into the night.

"Miss." A paramedic laid a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. "Do you know this woman?"

I stared at Mom as they lifted her up and onto the stretcher, a new wave of blood flowing from the wound in her stomach. "Yes. She's my mom."

The ringing in my ears never stopped as I got in the ambulance with Mom. Rushing to the hospital, all I could think of was how this is my fault. If I had just listened to her, how she wouldn't be in this situation. But no. I screwed up, like always. And now I'm paying the price.

* * *

As the paramedics pulled out the stretcher and rushed her into a room, I was directed to the waiting area.

Shakily, I pulled out my phone and dialed Peter's number.

"Hey, Camella." He said it quietly, almost like he knew something was wrong.

"Peter, I need you to come to the hospital," I croaked.

"What happened?"

"Just please come. And hurry." My voice cracked on the last word and I hung up, slumping onto a chair. I put my head in my hands and wept silently.

Only a few minutes later, Peter showed up and engulfed me in a hug. He was warm, and it was so comforting that I almost felt better. Almost.

"What happened?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Mom. She—she got into an accident on her way to give me something and she was rushing because she was late and its my fault, Peter, it's because of me." He wrapped me into another hug and shushed me while I sobbed into his shirt, clutching his shoulders.

He stroked my hair as I started to calm down, and he sat me down in a chair.

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know. They took her to a room and—"

"Miss Taylor?" Peter and I turned our heads to the side. A stern looking man in a white coat holding a clipboard walked up to us. I quickly stood up and wiped away my tears.