An Eventful Internship

Bad Day | 13

I get to SI nearly an hour late, but in all honesty I don't really care.

With a stoic expression, I get into the elevator and FRIDAY takes me to my normal floor.

When the doors slide open with the familiar ding I walk out into the lab.

Without a word I just sit at my station, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, I take a deep breath and just bang my head down on the desk.

"Hey kid, bad day?" Stark asks as he tinkers around with an arc reactor prototype.

"If only you knew" I scoff, bringing my head up and running my hands through my hair stressfully.

"Normal teenager problems or just problems?" He asks.

"Definitely not normal" I say drumming my fingers over the table.

"Well I call this the land of my distraction, so work away kid, get away from your problems even if just for a little while" he says and I send him a slight half smile.

I then get to work on developing my AI further, it's already pretty advanced but there's always something I can do to improve it.

So I spend an hour just coding on my laptop, until eventually I grow bored with what I'm doing and so move onto something else.

With my earphones in and my music at maximum volume, I start a new project which is basically just a Da Vinci machine.

Yes I'm so bored that I'm making a surgical robot and you know it's actually not that bad so far.

Stark then helps me because it's pretty cool even if it's just for fun.

Though as much as I distract myself the pain I feel doesn't go away, my siblings faces still flash in my mind each minute. The thought of how I failed them still lingers around in my mind.

"Wanna tell me what's on your mind? Something's clearly bothering you" Tony asks and I shrug.

"I just- this specific day isn't exactly a good day for me and then we had parents day which made it ten times worse" I say.

"What's so bad about parents day?" He asks.

"Oh I dunno, maybe the fact that I don't actually have parents" I say in a slightly jokingly manner.

"Sorry kid, that oughta suck" he replies and I nod.

"Normally I wouldn't care, I mean I've spent most of my life without them" I say and he nods in understanding.

"Did I ever tell you that I used to have siblings?" I ask, putting the tool in my hand down.

"No" he says.

"Well I- I did, but well, they died on August 2nd in 2011" I say and realisation comes over him.

"And today is August 2nd" he says and I nod.

"How- how'd they die?" He asks, slightly cautious.

Just thinking about that night sends chills down my spine, flashes of my father's sadistic grin comes over my eyes.

His laughter echos in my head, suddenly I can't control it and the horrible memories take over sending me into a flashback.

***FLASHBACK***

I'm in one of my childhood homes, huddled in the corner with my siblings, "don't worry worry Tommy, Ava, we'll save you" 6 year old me, mutters to my little brother and sister.

My fathers hand grabs me back and rips the both 2 and 4 year olds from my arms, "leave them alone!" I yell, my voice breaking in fear.

He throws them down and grabs me, beating me repeatedly until I'm as good as dead.

The sadistic man who's meant to be my father smirks and beats the little boy and girl as I scream at him to stop over and over again. Tommy's cries stop followed by Ava's silence and it only worries me more, I run to their mangled, blooded bodies, I beg them to wake up but they don't. They aren't breathing, why aren't they breathing?!

Then I hear it, "PETER!" I whip my head around and all I see is my own poor excuse of a father with his grubby hands clutched around Paddy's neck.

Apparently strangulation was taking too long because he just took out a gun rolling his eyes and shooting him in the head. It was as though he ripped my heart out and tore it apart making it unsalvageable. I fell to my knees in grief despair. I had lost everything.

The man who I once called a father then proceeds to beat me until I'm on the verge of death.

"Well someone has to tell the story don't they?" My father says to me with an evil grin.

"So I'll leave you with a little message" he says and his smile grows wider.

He grabs a knife and carves his initials onto my back, making sure they go deep, I scream at him to stop saying it hurts "that's the point, we want it to scar don't we? So you know who took your family from you" he says laughing.

"You're meant to be my father" I say repeatedly, I hear a loud bang but I don't care, my mom's dead, my twin is dead, my little brother and sister are dead they're all dead. It's all my fault, I could've done more, I could've been better, I should've been stronger.

***

Tony's PoV-

I watch as he staggers back against the wall as a glassy look comes over his eyes, I shout his name but it's almost as though he doesn't hear me.

"Peter!" I say and he slides down the wall, muttering to himself.

"FRIDAY what's happening to him?" I ask helplessly.

"A PTSD panic attack so it seems" she replies and I don't know how to process that information.

"What do you mean? He's a kid, he's 14!" I says.

"I've alerted the avengers seeing as they actually know what to do" FRIDAY replies.

Not a minute later, Sam, Steve and Bruce walk out the elevator and rush over to Peter.

As soon as Sam touched his shoulder he flinched and cowered away, pushing himself further against the wall.

They do every procedure they've ever been taught to use on someone with PTSD but he just doesn't wake up.

Then eventually after 45 minutes he's finally brought back to reality.

Peter's PoV-

I finally blink back to reality, my hands shaking slightly.

I see Tony, Bruce, Steve and Sam all around me with worryingly glances and concern etched into each of their faces.

"I was on a 3 day streak as well" I mumble to myself, standing up from the ground.

"Kid are you okay?" Sam asks me.

"Yeah, I'm fine, how long?" I ask them, my voice small and hoarse.

"45 minutes" Bruce says in concern.

"Huh, not bad" I say running a shaky hand through my hair.

"Not bad?! You were out for nearly an hour!" Tony exclaims.

"Well to me that's progress especially giving what today is" I scoff sitting back on the chair.

"So your saying that these PTSD attacks are like a normal thing for you?" Steve asks in astonishment.

"It's not PTSD, just... bad memories" I say.

"I'm pretty sure it's PTSD" Tony says.

"It's not, I should just be grateful that I'm alive, I can't be so selfish as to allow myself to suffer from something so small when others have died. Died when I should've, I shouldn't be here and me thinking that is selfish because they'd give anything to be alive right now. Don't tell me I have PTSD because I don't. I can't." I snap and grab my bag then walk out.

———

Well this is sad, sorry bout that by the way, eh this is meant to be angsty...

Word Count: 1250

- mayaaaa ✌🏼