❝ She's in my head and has you on her radar. You either leave and forget who I ever was, or live to kill me. ❞
❝ Is there a third option that doesn't involve losing you? ❞
. . . in which Rhea's fear of her own mother becomes so unruly that a masked...
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OPENING THE DOOR to her apartment, Rhea was nothing more than a crushed soul in the shell of a hormonal teenager. She was everything at once: desolate, aggrieved, exasperated, and wounded. They were all like a spiderweb, intricate and strong. She would tell herself that time heals all, but honestly, she no longer knew if she could even trust her own thoughts, her own voice.
Expecting a quiet, empty house, the unanticipated sight of her mother against the chest of another man was the first thing she was greeted with. He nuzzled her neck with delicate kisses while she wanted to return the favor if it weren't for Rhea's footsteps.
Pushing him away, she shamefully faced her own daughter, who was simply more than revolted and had the sudden urge to slap her own mother, no matter how fearful Rhea was of her. She used to cower at every single word uttered even a tad bit harshly, now she wouldn't hesitate to talk back. Where has the fear gone?
"Honey," her mother gulped, pursing her lips and stepping away from the man as if she weren't just all over him a second ago, "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"
The police are after me, Mom. "I felt sick, so I came back." But you wouldn't care, won't you?
Rhea exuded subtle animosity. Everything from the start of her morning, the events at school, up till now, every single emotion she's experienced was accumulating in her and it stung like acid - burning, slicing, potent. She wanted to scream at her. She wanted to hurt her. She wanted that unfamiliar man away from her sight, gone.
With knuckles turned white from her clenched fists, she turned away and headed to her room.
"Rhea, wait, I can explain-"
Shutting the door, she threw her bag onto the ground with her ability for nuance and emotional generosity gone. She shoved everything off her desk with her jaw clamped tight, and as much as she tried to hold it in, her pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. As tears streamed down her cheeks like water from a dam, she backed away from her shambles of books, stationery and folders lying on the floor until her back hit the wall, where her legs gave way. She now found herself on the ground, hugging her knees and burying her face as the world around her turned into a blur, and so did all sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was gone. The last painful emotion struck her before she lost the feeling of feeling.
She could feel the harsh bite of the evening's wind through the opened window, as she struggled opening her puffy, swollen eyes. But even so, the cold was nothing against Peter's embrace, who sat with her on the floor with his chin resting on her head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should've come earlier, I should've been there for you."
Rhea held on to him tightly, even if he was sweaty in his Spider-man suit, she was glad.
Glad that her plan was working out way better than she thought.
"I'm sorry..." She feigned weakness, because that's all Rhea ever was to her. Fragile. Vulnerable. Emotional. Weak.
He parted from her with his hands on her shoulders and eyes gently resting on hers with benign concern. "Sorry? For what?"
His voice was so soft, tender and affectionate. She almost felt bad deceiving him. "I'm... a mess. I can't do anything right, and now the cops are after me for... for something I never wished had happened. You can't be with me. I'll only wear you out and you'll-"
Shaking his head, he couldn't let her go on, "I won't ever regret being with you, Rhea. I mean it."
She wanted to feel bad using him. But perhaps, after everything's done and over with, she might just let him stick around. "I really like you, Peter."
He was obviously thrown off by the sudden, bashful affection, as seen by the shy smile he let loose on his features. "I really like you too."
"Rhea, dinner's ready!"
She perked up at Lydia's voice, and Peter, who had gotten the memo, gave her a quick peck on the forehead before leaving through the window, just on time before the door opened.
She got up and concealed the hatred clouding her face, voice and actions, as she responded sweetly with her honey-laced tone, "Yes, Mom."
"Oh, dear," Lydia pitied, noticing Rhea's tear-streaked face and pulled her into a hug. "I told you I would explain myself, didn't I?"
She sneered in utter disgust, but when the day comes, she'll get the satisfaction she so desired. "It's okay, I forgive you."
"You do?" Lydia grinned, looking into her daughter's eyes with a glimmer of exhilaration and daze, like a kid on Christmas who got exactly what he wanted.
"Of course, your happiness is important," Rhea smiled, wanting nothing more than to shove her off this building, "What's his name? I'd really like to get to know him better."
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qotd !! ; your favourite mcu post-credit scene so far?
