㉕ W i s e a s a n o w l

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I'm still a victim in my own right
But I'm a villain in my own mind



P A R K E R

The door banged close loudly, echoed the basement. I sat there helplessly, didn't know what to do.

"Who is he?" She asked me. "How did he know? Who exactly is he to you?" It seemed she had more questions but decided to stop.

I looked away, reaching out for painkillers on the shelf. "It's a long story."

"Well I have all fucking day being trapped down here, am I?" She swore, she looked like she been through hell, and sure she did.

"..." I said nothing, my head's getting heavy.

"You can't let him do this to me, Peter. You let me go already."

"Well, I was dying, I'm not that fucked up to let you rot down here with me."

"So what? If Wanda never got in we'd actually be down here for eternity?" She scoffed sarcastically.

"Yeah." I replied honestly.

She froze, eyes red staring right in mine, filled up with anger. "Son of a bitch." She said, and means it.

"Get that a lot." I shrugged back.

I tried getting up but the wound still hurts, as I walked over to the bathroom she tried to follow, but she was tied up by the kind of lock only Loki has the key.

I took off my shirt in front of the mirror, the door was wide opened, (Y/n) shouted loud enough to talk to me.

"Peter! How does he know who you are!?"

"We had a history." I looked at myself through the reflection, that fucker looked back with blood all over him.

   "And they are more who knows about this!?"

   "Um."

   "This society is fucked up!" She screamed.

   The wound will leave more scar on my body, I better not let anyone sees it, and better not act like I have a gigantic knife wound right on my stomach If I go out.

   I took a bath, making sure the water didn't touch the bandages, let (Y/n) yelling in anger outside. After that storm, life won't let her leave.

   Somehow that saddened me, I know it all along, it just feels stronger this time.

   She did nothing wrong.

   I fell for her, not the other way around, she shouldn't have to suffer for the consequences of hopeless love.

   But we have another storm coming.

   Later that night she gave up and rested, I made sure she felt comfortable where she was, patched the bruises over her body up, and stayed up cleaning some spots of bloodstains on the floor. It was another night of us alone in the dimming light from the fireplace and the soft sound of burning flames.

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