The Pain of Existing

Chapter 16

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Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel.

Peter's P.O.V.

... it would take away the pain. The pain of existing.

The desire to do something, to feel something was growing stronger by the minute. But I could barely stand the thought of being lectured once again by Mister Stark or Mister Banner. I sighed. Being trapped inside your own mind wasn't fun. Especially with a mind as fucked up as mine.

Worthless.

You can't do anything right.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I wanted to scream out, to punch and kick and fight, to take away the pain... but I was being watched. As much as I hated it, I knew I couldn't really change that. Unless... unless I could.

"Hey, FRIDAY? Could you get Mister Stark for me?"

"Of course." There was a pause. "He will be with you shortly. Will that be all?"

"Yeah, thanks Fri." As soon as I finished speaking, the door burst open with a worrisome Avenger.

"Pete! Are you ok? What's wrong? FRIDAY told me I needed to get here-"

"Mister Stark, I'm fine. I was just wondering... if maybe I could go back to my room? It's much more comfortable and familiar to me, and I really need that right now." At least most of it is honest. I watch as his face conforms into a more relaxed state.

"Sure thing, kiddo. If that's what you want, it can be arranged." He smiles, and I match it with a grin equally as big, but such less authentic. Mister Stark escorts me down the hall to my room. The familiar setting definitely puts me at ease, and the bed is ten times more comfortable than the one I had been sitting on before. I spread out my arms, stretching across the bed. I sink slowly into the soft mattress and fluffy blankets that had been laid on top.

"Thanks," I whisper, guilt gnawing away at my mind. Mister Stark merely gives a nod, smiling gently from his position in the doorway. I watch as he leaves, and I wait until the echo of his footsteps are gone to shut and lock the door. Then, like a whirlwind, I start searching my room for my blade. After a solid 3 minutes of looking, I realise that it was probably confiscated.

I sigh dramatically, flopping back on the bed. For a split second, another thought crossed my mind. A loophole. Doing my best to ignore the increasingly more tempting option, I close my eyes in a feeble attempt to do something good. I know that resting is the best option right now. Except... no. No. I won't do it. I groan, clenching my teeth and gripping my hair. I want to scream, to just let it all out... but I can't. I need to hold on to the best opinions of me, the ones that depict me as a happy, carefree hero, completely sane. Not whatever I am now.

But then again... it's nearly impossible to think that about me now. So why bother trying to keep up appearances now? Especially since I haven't been doing that for awhile. What the hell, I don't have anything left to lose. I sat up, making a beeline for the bathroom, when a tiny, beaten down voice made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Peter," the voice cried. It sounded familiar, like- May? "Don't do this. Tony still loves you, I still love you. Everyone loves you just the same. They need you, Peter. Just as I needed you when I was alive. Please, honey, make the right choice." Her voice sounded cracked, like she was on the verge of tears. I was too. The hot tears dribbled from my eyes, running down my cheeks and dropping to the floor. I broke down, falling to my knees. I knew what I had heard couldn't be real. But, at the same time, I knew it wasn't fake.

I sobbed, curling up into the fetal position on the floor, hugging my knees close to my chest as I rocked back and forth steadily. May...

I barely heard the knock at the door, and when a worried looking Mister Stark ran in, I gladly reached for him. He froze, but only for a second, quickly engulfing me in a safe, warm hug. I sobbed into his shirt, letting myself be vulnerable. I felt him gently twist my arm to view my wrists, and I heard him sigh in relief when he saw only old scars there.

We sat like that, me in his arms, on the floor, for what must've been about an hour. It felt good, letting my emotions out, without having to explain myself. Mister Stark knew. He knew it was better not to talk, but to let the silence to the talking. He knew it was better to have the snot and tears on his clothes than to have the blood. He knew it was better to have me here and a mess than have me six feet under.

But he also knew that I was heading for the bathroom to slice my skin to ribbons.

ok I feel like the end was kinda weird? Idk whatever

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