Kid, tell me what happened: The Sequel

Take Me Home Where I can Sing and Drown part 9

So its part nine of my one shot series, you know the one where Quentin Beck tortures Peter, yeah so I included what happened to Pepper since y'all were wondering.
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The last thing Peter felt was numbness course through him as he tried to cling on to the delicate and safe touch of his dad when his eyes closed once again. 

He thought he would be safe in these depths, because he was safe now. No matter how much he didn’t feel like it, he was safe. He was millions of miles from Beck, or him. Just the mere thought of his torturer’s name was enough to make him feel queasy. 

He could practically feel the silver plunge into his already broken flesh, emitting the metallic sound that he hated, and he felt wet droplets of scarlet trickle down his flesh, reminding him of weak and vulnerable he was. Powerless. Exposed. 

He felt sick, in dire need to throw up but then he realized that he hadn’t had anything to eat since he had been kidnapped. Staying awake hurt. Sleeping hurt. There was nothing in the middle that kept both his brain and his body satisfied. It was almost as if he was rid of Beck, yet still trapped in hell. 

He wanted it to be over, the pain, trauma, all of it. But his body was in no condition to do so. He tried to keep track of how many times he was stabbed where but the nauseating number would become foggy after forty. 

The same plaguing nightmare returned once again, only this time he felt thick, sweaty hands squeeze around his throat as his lungs constricted and wavered for oxygen desperately, only to be met with nothing but a sharpening pain as electricity jostled from the steel collar that was fastened around Peter’s neck. 

His vision blurred into a haze and all he could see was Quentin Beck’s sinister face bore into his helpless one, as he weakly tugged on Beck’s arms, mentally pleading for the slightest form of mercy or to end it all, which one he had no clue. 

Beck had the audacity to laugh as Peter weakly squirmed, trying to find an angle where oxygen could slip through the trachea but found none. He spoke thinly, “You really think you can escape the inevitable? I told you right from the very beginning Peter, you will die here.”

He heard a gentle voice ground him, “Peter, wake up, you’re okay. Baby, you’re okay. It’s just a bad dream, I’ve got you.”

Peter bolted and his eyes bulged as they opened. Everything was spinning and Peter could taste the bile that was inching up his throat. He wheezed out, “No more tricks Beck! I know this isn’t real!” 

“I told you right from the beginning Peter, you will die here. It’s not hard to understand, especially with that intellect you’ve inherited.”

Tony spoke in a careful tone, “No Peter, this is real, but you have to breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe, here, in my arms. That man can’t hurt you anymore. He’s dead.” 

Peter trembled, unsure who was lying, Tony or Beck. He croaked out as his eyelids clenched shut, “I, I don’t know!” Peter started sobbing as he smacked his hands against his eyes, “I don’t know!” His voice died away, as if he was signaling defeat, “How many more times do I have to tell you, I don’t know? Stop tricking me, I just want to go home!”

Tony nodded, holding back tears of his own as he gently clasped Peter’s hands and guided them away from his face where he could possibly hurt himself, “It’s okay if you don’t know, you’re home bud. You’re home. Home.”

Peter asked in a childish tone, “I’m home?”

Tony exaggerated a nod, “Yeah buddy.”

Peter asked cautiously, “How do I know this is real? What’s something only Dad knows for a fact?”