Little Spy | Peter Parker ✓

[37]

THE MAKEUP PROVIDED BARELY COVERED UP THE BRUISES left on me, and it took more and more to make it appear like I hadn't a single trace of Freya left on me. I plastered it on carefully, layer by layer, finally stopping dissatisfied as the now extremely fake-looking face of Emily Newman appeared.

Moving back, I frowned, staring at the mirror and the almost dead eyes that watched back. It looked fake, just like everything else in this world - at this point, I wasn't sure how anyone truly fell for the lie that was Emily Newman. I knew I wouldn't.

Still, it would have to do, and I stepped away to grab the last thing to layer on my face. I was filled with a dull eagerness to leave the room and get the day over and done with already. The less time I had to waste staring at my own broken and bruised face and watch it transform into the innocence that made up Emily, the better. Otherwise, I knew I'd surely break myself before anyone else could lay a finger on me.

It was going to be difficult. I couldn't lie to myself on that; seeing Peter so desolated and down was going to be a torturous task in itself, but dealing with the struggles of pretending to be a shattered identity wasn't going to help. I didn't want to do it, and I wasn't even sure if I could do it. Being Emily Newman took so much out of me that at that point, I wasn't sure what I had left. Without her, I was slowly becoming nothing.

"Just a few more days," I muttered, breaking the silence that hung off every surface possible, including my own weary shoulders. "Just a few more days, and then it's all over. You - I - can do this. You have to do this. For Peter. You...you owe it to him."

Maybe I should stop giving my own self-failed pep talks in the mirror, I mused, maybe then things could actually start moving and I could accomplish what I came for.

...

A hand coming out of nowhere startled me out of my thoughts, and I flipped around to stare wide-eyed at Gwen, who had raised her arms in a hasty surrender at my expression. She quickly backed up and waved her arms wildly as though she was soothing a wild animal. "Whoa, sorry girlie, I just - I just wanted to get your attention, that's all. You okay?"

"Yeah, no, sorry, I'm fine. Just tired." 

"Can I talk to you, then?"

I glanced back up in another bout of surprise, this time with a tinge of worry clouding my thoughts. "Sure, okay."

Gwen took the lead and I followed her through the halls until we were in a smaller, more reclusive area, where fewer people sat and spoke at the top of their lungs and more were either studying or crying - a strange contrast that didn't make much sense to me, but not one I was eager to question. She gestured for me to sit down beside her in one patch of tiled floors, which gave off a somewhat bitter smell, and watched me with the dark eyes I had grown to admire; they were focused and seemingly always sure of what they were trying to get.

"So."

"So?"

She sighed and patted my hand comfortingly, immediately making me tense and drawback. "Look, Em, I heard about what happened - yesterday, you know, with you and Peter? Mary Jane and I heard about everything."

Immediately, my throat caved in and the lump in my stomach increased tenfold, leaving me to stare and grit my teeth through the waves of pain that echoed at the sound of the event. I fought the urge to rip apart the skin on my lip. "Oh."