The Butterfly Effect: a Peter Parker Fan Fic

Part 33; Unrecognizable

Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn how to swim ~ Vicki Harrison

The curtains are drawn, no bit of light entering my room despite the beautiful, sunny day it's supposed to be. 

Fifteen days, sixteen hours, twenty-six minutes.

That's how long it's been since I got the news. The funeral was yesterday in Malibu, where he asked to be buried. Malibu was more of a home to him than Queens ever was. Was. It seems surreal. He can't be... he can't be.

It's felt like ages since I've actually had a proper meal. With this factor and with all of the tears I've let go of, the amount of weight I've lost is understandable. I'm all skin and bone now, every teenage girl's dream. But I hate this. I hate feeling empty and sorrowful. I hate not seeing anyone. I hate being pitied.

Mom seems to have forgiven me for the money incident. She checks up on me more frequently than I prefer, but it's not her fault. It's mine. I worried him. He should've been resting and not stressing, but I stressed him out and he's... it can't be.

Or maybe it could be Tony's fault. He could've given dad the money and he wouldn't have been stressed and he wouldn't be...

I'm empty. It feels unreal.

Cam took the first flight to Malibu as soon as he heard the news. Little, pure, innocent Cam went on a plane by himself. I should've gone with him. I'm his big sister, goddamnit. But going to the funeral means accepting the death and means saying goodbye. I'm not ready to let go of him yet. He can't be dead, he can't be.

Dad, who helped me when he found out about my powers, who was the most resilient yet most stubborn person I've ever met, who suffered in silence so as not to worry me or Rory or anyone else around him, who would die for the people he loved, who loved mom more than anything and still survived after she broke him, who's voice was a relief in the worst of situations. Dad... my dad.

Stuff Peter. What he said hurt me, of course, but I'd rather relive that over and over again than feel the pain I feel now. To lose someone you love like this... I'm never going to be the same again. And the worst part isn't even losing him, if I'm honest. It's the last words we exchanged. We fought because I was trying to prevent this from happening and he didn't seem to want my help, that stubborn man. If I knew that was going to be the last conversation we ever had, I would tell him I love him over and over again and how much I'll miss him.

But I didn't. I even hung up on him. I should've let Cam go. We would've made up soon, we always do. My phone screen lights up, several messages sending several ringtones. On any other day, I would've immediately checked to see who it was sending all of these things. But who cares anymore?

If I get one more I'm sorry, I will lose it. My eyes shut, hoping that the phone will stop ringing eventually. But it doesn't. It keeps flashing over and over and over and over and over- I can't take it anymore. My hand reaches out from the blanket and I throw my phone to the nearest wall as hard as I can. It hits the wall with a crack! before falling to the floor. Much to my dismay, it doesn't stop. Someone's calling now.

I should've just turned it off completely. It's probably time for a stretch anyways. I lift myself out of bed and charge towards the phone, nearly stumbling over from my jelly-like legs. Every muscle in my body is in pain when I bend down to pick it up, but the little bit of adrenaline from getting up is helping me. The contact photo makes me want to curl up in a ball on the floor now. Peter's photo is displayed largely on the screen. He's sticking his tongue out, reminding me of the day he took it.