A DeadMan's Tale

1: Days in Hell

A/N : *after a few chapters I have come back to this one and ... please stick with it* This is my first story, I have read the comics but if i get stuff wrong i'm sorry. Please feel free to comment, constructive criticism is always welcome

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(Peter's POV)

Peter sat at his desk staring at the clock, willing it to turn faster. He couldn't wait to get out of school, he hated this place, nothing good ever happened here.

Peter felt trapped around his peers as though he were a zebra being hunted by a pack of lions; always watching him, waiting for him to screw up so they had excuses to call him a freak. He didn't need them to say it though, he already knew it. Except, they didn't know how much of a freak he really was.

The bell rang, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He quickly grabbed his bag and flew out the class door ignoring his teachers warnings... and flew straight into Flash.

Why Flash? Of all people why him?

"Hey freak watch where you're going!" the word 'freak' dripping with poison. Peter didn't respond, so, to get a reaction out of him, Flash shoved Peter into the lockers nearby.

"Hey I'm talking to you freak," he said with a snarl. Peter didn't want to give him the satisfaction so he just stared at Flash.

"What, forget how to talk?", Flash threw a punch, aiming for Peter's right cheek. Time slowed. Peter knew he had to let Flash hit him so no one would get suspicious. Flash's fist connected with Peter's jaw instead. The force caused him to be spun around into the lockers once again. He tasted blood and felt a line of it run down his chin. Peter calmed himself by taking a long and deep breath. He turned," Please let me go Flash, i have somewhere to be," he stated calmly.

Where the hell are the teachers?

Flash was caught off guard for a moment and Peter took the opportunity to escape. As he hurried away he heard steps and then angered teachers and Flash's "-ut nothing even happened, I didn't even hit him", before Peter went through the big double doors at the front of his high school.

As he walked to work, he scrubbed at the now dried blood on his face. Why can't he just leave me alone? What the hell did I ever do to him? If he knew who I really was he wouldn't dare to look my way let alone lay a finger on me. If ... Peter pushed open the door to his work and clocked in. He went up and talked to his boss. Nothing but the usual yelling and threatening of his job to start the shift off right. Peter took his camera and zipped up his olive green jacket before heading out to the streets.

He walked for a long time, not seeing anything that really caught his eye or anything that looked worthy of taking the time to photograph. He climbed up the stairs of an old building and walked onto the roof. Peter would never admit it out loud to anyone but he wished he didn't have to be Spider-Man he wished he could just be Peter sometimes. He sat down on the edge of the building, taking off his camera from around his neck and laid it gently next to him. He sat there for a long time and just watched the city life before him.

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