It's Hard

Slipping Into Old Habits

Tw: self harm and depression

Peter POV

Everything's shit. I joke about my 'Parker Luck' but it's getting old. My parents died when I was a kid. Uncle Ben died when I was 14. Now Aunt May is dead. I thank Tony and the Avengers everyday for taking me in when I had nobody left.

It's so hard, the self hatred and dread that creeps up on me randomly. I could be having a normal day with my friends at school and suddenly just fucking hate my life and need to leave. I deserve it, really, I'm pathetic and worthless and a complete piece of shit.

The only thing that helps relieve me of these horrible thoughts is my blade. When I cut it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Instead of all my internal pain and suffering, I can distract myself with the numbness I feel when I cut. I haven't done it for nearly 2 months, I did right after May died but promised to myself that I needed to stop.

Nobody knows about it, obviously. I'm ashamed of it, it makes me a freak. Even more than having spider powers makes me a freak. I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the time go by as the shadows and colors change around my room.

I look at the clock and see it's 6:48pm, I've been zoning out for like 4 hours. I've been sitting in here since school got out at 2:30. I sigh and sit up, I guess I should eat something.

I stand up and make my way over to the door. I peer out and head down the hallway to the kitchen. I straighten myself up and plaster a smile on my face when I walk into the lounge / kitchen area and see the Avengers.

"Hey, Pete!" Steve calls out when he sees me and I smile at him.

"Hi, Steve." I say with as much happiness I can muster in my tone. It seems to do the trick cause he immediately goes back to whatever he's watching on the tv. I go into the kitchen and see Tony and Natasha making dinner.

They both look up at me when they see me get closer, clearly coming over to them. Tony smiles and sets down the spoon he was using to mix the noodles on the stove.

"Hey, kiddo. Where've you been?" He asks and ruffles my hair. I try to seem only slightly annoyed but I know he's just poking fun so I try to drop it.

"Just in my room, hangin out." I say with a shrug and open the fridge.

"You know we're making food right now, right?" Natasha asks with a smirk on her face and we all chuckle. I shrug again and grab a banana.

"I guess I'm not hungry enough for a full meal, yet." I say and start walking back to my room. I make it halfway there before there's a hand on my shoulder and I turn around. It's Tony.

"You know you can talk to me about all this stuff, Peter. I'm here for you, always." He says and pulls me into a quick side hug. I thank him and get back into my room and shut then lock the door behind me. I'm assuming by 'all this stuff' he means everything with May.

I throw the banana on my bed and let out a huge sigh. Why is it so exhausting just being around them? I feel like I need a nap. It's so horrible that I feel this way after being around people who are basically my family, but it's not like I can control it.

I walk into my onsuite bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I just stare at myself for probably 10 minutes, zoning out on random features like my messy hair or the dark bags under my eyes. No wonder Tony said something, I look like shit.

At least I haven't cut.

Right as the thought crossed my mind so did another. A thought that haunts me. If I did cut, I'd feel better. My emotional pain would fade away, even for a moment. I shake my head, I c ant do it. I've been clean for 2 months!

Without consciously knowing what I'm doing, I start digging through my drawers, looking for it. I don't know why but I need to see it, just to remember what it's like. That's all I'll do, just hold it and remember, I won't actually cut.

I find it and pull it out of it's small secret hiding place. It's so tiny in my hand, since it came from a pencil sharpener that I tore apart. I press my pointer finger into the corner of it and wince at the sharp pain it leaves and a small bead of blood in its place.

Fuck it.

I shut the door to my bathroom and pull down my pants. I look in the mirror at my thighs. They're covered in old scars from the past 3 years. I sit down on the toilet and look at the blade still in my hand, then at my legs. Should I really do this? Yes.

I run a shallow line across the skin and feel the dull pain in my thigh from the sudden cut. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and drag the blade across my skin over and over again.

I feel shame in the back of my mind but it's nothing compared to the amount of relief I get from the hot pain on my thigh. I stare at the dark red lines that now cover my leg down to my knee. This is the most I've ever done in one session.

I grab some toilet paper and wipe the drying blood away. I stand up and throw all my bloody toilet papers in the toilet and flush it away. All the evidence is gone. I look at myself in the mirror again and see the smeared blood on my thigh. I sigh and turn on the shower to lukewarm and step in.

I've learned from before that going into a hot shower after cutting is the worst so I keep it cooler. I grab a washcloth and get it wet from the shower. I lightly rub it on my thigh to get the rest of the blood off and wince. It definitely still hurts. Without the adrenaline and numbness coursing through my veins, it burns more than I'd like.

I finish my shower and head back into my room, naked. I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling. God, I'm so tired. I tuck myself under the covers and quickly drift off to sleep.

New story! What's everyone's thoughts on this? I know it's more depressing and all but I think it's gonna be a good one :)