Sunset Secret (Peter Parker x Reader)

Chapter 58

YOUR POV:
~~~~~~~~

Messages to: "Cool Kidz"
Me
Is everything okay? I'm feeling something and I'm not sure what it is

Just before I send the text, I get a notification.

New message from: "Aliyah"
Aliyah
You're back in town, right?

Me
Yeah, is anything wrong?

Aliyah
It's Eden
Poor thing's traumatized and won't speak
Before you ask, we just found out and are all at the clearing

I turn my phone off, running down the stairs and out the door. I run through the trees, not slowing my pace until I reach where the vegetation starts to disperse. I step into the circle, weaving through my pack to get to the young sixteen-year-old. Eden is sitting on the ground, her knees up to her chest as tears stain her cheeks. Ben crouches next to her, hushing her and gently rubbing her shoulder to calm her down.

My eyes flash in anger at the sight of her miserable form, and I kneel down on the grass in front of her. Ben steps away as I take Eden's hand in mine. "Hey, hun. You good?"

She shakes her head, sniffling as I bring up my other hand to rub her arm. "It's alright if you're not okay. Have you told anyone what happened?"

She shakes her head again, taking the edge of her hijab's fabric to dab at her tears. I pull the sleeve of my cardigan up to cover my thumb, and I gently push her hand down, drying her cheeks as her red eyes stab my heart. "Do you wanna tell me what it was?" I ask, carefully, and her eyes become even wetter. I open my arms out for her, and she leans into my embrace, sniffling into my shoulder as I softly console her. "It's okay, I've got you, it's okay. You're okay."

I rub her back, being able to feel the pack's saddened glances on my back at the young girl in my arms. "How about this," I start, keeping my voice soft and level to bring her as much comfort as possible, "We can go to my place and you can tell me in private, okay? You can take all the time you need, and if you don't want to tell me even then, that's totally okay."

She nods her head, and I smile, "Good. Come on, I've got you." I hold her hands and gently help her stand up, her hands shaky and fingers trembling. I reach out to fix her hijab a bit, and she flinches as I touch the fabric. I pretend not to notice it as I guide her to the facility, looking back as my face matches the other concerned ones.

But when I turn to look forward, it contorts into anger for the briefest second, my irises warming and teeth sharpening. I have a vague idea of what happened, and it should never have happened in the first place. To anyone.

The way she flinched and slightly drew her head back when I began to help her carried a familiarity that I know only too well. In that second, I didn't see Eden in front of me.

I saw a nine-year-old girl, skinny and malnourished, with trust issues physically painful for anyone else spectating. A girl who had been tormented so much that anyone's touch would burn her skin.

Looking into that mirror of my past was horrific. Not because of what I'd been through, oh, no.

But because someone else did, too.