Electric Web (A Peter Parker Fanfiction)

Hospital (Part 13)

Warnings; MDNI 18+, Swearing, Vague Brief Descriptions of fighting, Descriptions of wounds, Descriptions of electrocution, Mentions of Kidnapping, Descriptions of being chained up, Descriptions of getting injected with a syringe, Mentions of past trauma, descriptions of anxiety attack. Each chapter will have it's own warnings!! I am not an ER nurse, so I did my best, but I'm not an expert. I am but a girl with google. If I missed anything, let me know!

W/C;5.5K

Astoria's P.O.V

My body aches, each of my limbs throbbing in rhythm with my pounding head. The lights are too bright even without opening my eyes, beaming down on me in harsh fluorescents like their whole purpose on this earth is to keep my headache thriving. 

Distant chatter from somewhere brings me crashing back to reality, a gasp leaving my lips as my eyes snap themselves open, fighting the urge to close under the bright lights, heavy and drooping no matter how hard I try to push them open. 

The room spins, my vision taking a little too long to adjust itself. My pain feels almost muffled, a strange wind in my ears as I snap my head to look at whatever is tugging on my arm, the quick motion making me woozy. 

The muffled, dizzy feeling starts to makes sense when I see the tube stuck in my arm, the needle taped securely in place. 

God, what did he put in there?

My other hand fumbles to reach for the needle, a frantic, shaky motion as I waste no time in trying to rip it out. Idiot forgot to chain me down, he must've thought whatever he put in here was enough-

"Hey! hey, woah,"

Peter's voice snaps me out of my panic, my head turning too fast to be comfortable given my current condition. The hand scrambling for the needle shoots up to hold my head, my eyes shutting tight with a groan that burns my throat far more than it should. 

That's right. 

I got out.

Did I? 

The night replays in blurry flashes, the clicking of a lock, blood and fists, finally feeling fresh air on my skin after god knows how long. 

But, there's always that chance this isn't Peter. The chance this isn't real, that I'm still stuck somewhere and being tricked again. He did look just like Peter when he pulled me into that hallway. How would I know?

How would I know?

"Pete?" I manage to pry my eyes open to look at him, my voice hoarse as I make futile attempts to blink away my fuzzy vision. "Is that you--" Even if it isn't Peter, do you think he'd tell you? "Where am I?"

Okay, better question. 

"You're in the hospital," His voice is soft, gentle as he does his best to manage a smile. The broken smile makes my chest tighten, and hearing Peter's voice tames some of my worries this isn't him. Mason didn't quite sound right, didn't quite have the same mannerisms. This is either my Peter, or he got much better at pretending. 

I study each freckle and hair, every wrinkle of his clothes, every speck of color in his eyes and every little detail I can manage until my head starts to throb louder than my thoughts. 

All the while I'm making sure this is my Peter, I can feel him studying me back. His eyes trailing to what I'm sure are bags under my eyes, my broken lip, the too many cuts and burns lining my body.