Catching Death || Peter Parker Fanfiction (Silent Angel/Melted Ice)

12; Phone Call

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I sat still for a while hanging my head in my hands, people are going to think I'm a different person now but under no circumstances was I about to tell anyone the truth. Things like this make me feel less of a person, as if I'm missing something that I could never get back.

The bell rings and the changing rooms empties. I take this as a chance to get changed and leave to get to my next class, English. Something I can do, at last. I used to be pretty good at English and I'm pretty sure nothing could change in a language. I used to make up my own stories and write them in a journal. I always wanted to be an author of some sort and make others happy with my imagination. My mind has changed a lot it used to be a happy place full of happy endings and happily ever afters but know its dull and bland. I also wanted to illustrate my books too. I guess overall I liked to read, the book is like the sea and my mind is a ship sailing across. I shove the last of my yellow top into my bag and leave walking down hallway after hallway to get to English.

I walk in and take a spare seat on random table not even bothering that I'm late, I don't have time that. "Thanks for finally joining us Miss Carter, took you long enough." I could tell from just her voice that the teacher was going to be an arrogant one. "oh, yeah sorry I'm late, I don't really have a reason other than just being late." She gave a judgmental stare and carried on with the lesson. I pull out a red notebook and start copying from the board, it was stuff to do with a book from the early 1900s, 1934 to be exact, one I remember reading. I used to love the book and I had read it so many times that it had started to fall apart in my hands. The age of the book was so old we had been given pieces of paper with the pages on.

Reading the papers made me remember of the times I would stay up till one in the morning reading it and my mom walking in on me and physically peeling the book away from my tight grasp, it wasn't an easy job by far, but I had to eventually cooperate. Some lady with a black pencil skirt and white top with pink flowers walked into the room, I kept scribbling down the notes of the board before she asked for me to follow her. She led me into her office and I sat down on a chair, she mirrored me at the other side of her desk.

"So your PE teacher told me that they were concerned about some sort of scaring." she had a calming voice and was obviously either a nurse or a psychiatrist. "You are going to have to tell me, trust me, I won't tell anyone," I sat and stared at her blankly. I wasn't budging. "Did your parents do this to you?" I shook my head and wrote it down in a notebook. "Did you do it yourself?" I shook my head again. "Did someone you don't know do it?" I stared even deeper into her eyes, technically they did, but not falling for a trap. She started to get uncomfortable with my stare and started to look else where that want my face, my eyes followed her every move. "Okay, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to call your parents, if they don't know, they need to know." She reached out for the computers keyboard, probably to look up the number to call.

"My dad won't answer, he's working, no one is home, he already knows about it." the truth is my dad knew nothing about me, he was always working and i was always being passed around from one person to another, it hurt sometimes and it wasn't always good for my mental health, its not in its best condition sometimes and it will only get worse, no amount of therapy can help me, I'm beyond broken.

She still called my dad, she probably just thought I was lying to get out of it. The phone a couple of times then went to voicemail, she dialled another number and no one picked up so she left a voicemail saying to call her back or come into school to speak to her.

Yeah we all know it won't be the second option. At the end of the day I walked home, I didn't want to get into a car and listen to Happy ask me what's wrong so I told him not to come. Then it hit me, my dad will find out about the rest of my scars and ask me how I got them. I walked through the doors of the tower and moved to the kitchen.

I grabbed an apple and started to eat it. It was red and crisp. "What you doing?" I look up and see Clint leaning against the wall. "Eating an apple," I'm not wrong but I'm pretty sure he wanted a different a answer. "Can you still do my hair?" I said with a smile. He rolled his eyes at the utter stupidity I was releasing.

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