[GHOST]
•
Peter walked to his anatomy class, alone and clutching his laptop close to his chest. He entered the stale classroom.
His peers talked and laughed and threw paper planes. He sat, quietly, and opened his laptop.
He reviewed his notes and study guide. There was going to be a big test today on arteries.
It's ironic.
Arteries send out the good blood from the heart, out into the body to animate it. As he sat there, in the classroom, surrounded by noise, he thought of the stitches and wraps around his thigh. No one could tell he was shot in the leg two weeks ago.
No one knew that the difference between his shot and Mari's shot was that he was still animated. He still had life. He was shot in an artery. She was shot in the heart. He survived, and she didn't.
The bell rang and he closed his laptop.
Miss Dube began to hand out the test and pens. She reached Peter and, only to him, said, "It's good to have you back. I'm so sorry about Mari. She didn't deserve what happened to her."
He pursed his lips, a coping mechanism.
"She didn't. Her family doesn't," he agreed.
Dube nodded solemnly and handed him his paper and pen. Peter began to read the questions, to keep occupied.
Stay strong, for her.
Bullshit.
She's dead, and six feet under.
Stay strong, for you.
He finished his quiz and turned it in. To pass the remaining minutes, he read a book. Stared blankly at the same page, more like.
The bell rang and he left.
•
On his way home from school, he noticed a girl walking a few yards in front of him. She seemed to be going to the subway too.
He watched her closely, and he noticed her hair was the same color as Mari's. The way she walked was the same. The way she carried herself was the same.
He would have called out to her — no matter how crazy that would have seemed — had she not turned off and onto a side street.
Peter shook his head. He hurried along to the station and crumpled onto a bench. That's the second time. He must be imagining this. It was a sick game his mind was playing.
Stay strong, he reminded himself, for you.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the caller ID: Nat.
"Hello?" he asked, putting the phone to his ear. The subway came and he got on. He wrapped his free hand around a handle.
ČTEŠ
toxin | parker | book two
Fanfikce"YOU WERE TOXIC, AND YET I KEPT BREATHING YOU" • { disclaimer : I do not own the marvel franchise, the characters, movie/comic/novel plot lines, or rights to any trademark due to marvel. I own my original plot lines and my original characters and ba...
