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'every hour has come to this...'
[WORD COUNT: 3k]
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Confusion struck you in the chest like a poison dart as you watched the colour drain from Peter's cheeks. His movements were shaky, but non the less quick; gripping the hem of your gown and lifting it up the frame of your body to expose your lower stomach.
Nothing. It was gone.
"Peter what are you doing?" you quizzed, collecting his hands in your own but he pulled them away from your cradle, placing them on your stomach as he dropped to his knees. He could practically hear his own heart shattering inside his chest as he stared blankly at your empty stomach. There were bruises and marks where his baby, your baby had been removed... "Peter, what's going on?"
It hurt to breathe his chest was tight with agonising pain, struggling to keep a focused stare on your damaged skin. Every hope and dream was deceased just like the life that had been growing inside of you, gone without a goodbye. And you were non the wiser as to anything what was going on.
Regarding the fact that Peter was listening to a word of what you were saying, you lowered yourself down to your knees, finding his empty expression that lay across his face as his hand's departure from the material of your hospital gown and fell into the lake of his lap. He looked lifeless and confused, but more so his eyes were clouded with what looked like anger and frustration. It was sad to see the person you loved upset over something that you couldn't comprehend, you wanted to fix it, but you weren't sure how.
"Did he do it?" Peter asked through a tightened throat, his voice cracking near the end of each symbol.
"Who, Peter?" you quizzed, brow sharp and folding in on one another as they almost touched in the centre of your forehead. Peter sighed as his head drooped. No matter the love and passion he held in his heart, the one place you would always live; he couldn't bring himself to look at you. But where else would he have to look if not at your face but your arms that were resting by his on your knees? The black stings of venom that flowed through your once blue veins scorched flames inside of Peter's chest. No matter what had happened over the last few weeks you were still burning on the inside, and no matter what anyone said it could have or would be, it was still inside of you and Peter wanted it out.
He wasn't sure whether it was the pure and natural instinct that he had to protect you, or whether it was out of a decision that he made in the back of his mind, but he was certain he knew that he wanted that thing out of your body as soon as possible. He wanted the old you back, not some hyper alien life form version of you. Call him crazy but Peter didn't want you to evolve like he did, he wanted you to stay normal and human, something for him to come too. There was always the risk of you getting hurt if anything was to change - if the cotton wool that he had wrapped you in where to break or snap and your skin was to so much as he flicked by something harmful he may as well implode on himself.
