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Your wrists throbbed within the unforgiving grip of the handcuffs, their weight a constant reminder of your vulnerability. The swelling around your wrists made every movement an agonizing ordeal. As you tugged against the restraints, a muffled whimper escaped your lips.
You had been taken whilst on a walk. While you wished you could have been more prepared or maybe wished you had seen it coming, nothing could change the fact that it was so sudden. Unlike in the books you had read, you didn’t have any sort of premonition that warned you against going out for that walk. There were no warning signs or red flags blatantly obvious. It had happened without any sort of warning. One moment you were casually strolling through the streets of New York, next you were being knocked unconscious by a man wearing all black in the middle of the day.
How someone didn’t see the spectacle go down baffled you. Perhaps they did see it; they just didn’t get involved. That was a thing you learned in your psychology class: the bystander effect. Only now were you fully realising how shitty it was.
So there you were, sitting in a damp, musty cell with no hope of rescue. You hoped that maybe your boyfriend would notice your absence and call the police once he couldn’t get ahold of you. But you knew he’d probably think that you were just busy or didn’t want to talk. He knew that school got tough sometimes, so he never blamed you if you couldn’t talk to him. Hence it would probably take a long time for anyone to find you.
You flinched as the door opened, wishing that the ground would swallow you whole. You didn’t want to die, not with Peter waiting for you at his house. He was such a good person and he didn’t deserve to worry about some nobody like you as you knew he would. Sometimes he was too good for his own good. Something you didn’t know the full weight of quite yet.
“I hear you’re close to Spider-Man,” the captor said, an ugly sneer on his face.
Brows furrowed, you replied, “I’ve never even met him once. He has never saved me or anything.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear I’m not lying!”
“Bullshit.”
You tried to press yourself further into your chair when he approached you. Your gut was turning and breaths were short. Who is this crazy man and what does he want with you?
Your head is snapped to the side as the back of his hand makes contact with your face. Two marks on your face start bleeding where his bulky rings had hit you. “You better start talking.”
“I don’t know anything, I swear!”
He scoffed as he geared up for a punch. His fist hit you near your right rib cage. You doubled over and groaned. He had a mean swing. Those stupid rings weren’t helping any.
He grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head back up. You cried out, hoping maybe someone would hear you. His fist began driving itself to your body, anywhere he could reach. Your screams and cries did nothing to make him stop, if anything, it only made the twisted man continue his relentless abuse.
Just when you were sure that you could take no more, the glass window to the room shattered. You screamed, and you weren’t sure if it was from the terror or from the last blow he delivered to your stomach.
In an instant, white webs were flown across the room. Guards and your tormentor were wrapped up in the all too familiar spidery substance you had seen on the news. In all your years, you never thought you’d be able to meet a superhero. You just wish it was on better terms.
Spider-Man rushed to your aid, calling out your name in an anguished voice that sounded a bit familiar. Your head drooped, exhaustion tearing you down. You could hear Spider-Man talking to you, telling you everything was going to be okay. You saw him reach for the phone, presumably to call for help.
You grabbed his wrist, not caring that the handcuffs were digging further into your skin. With a weak voice, you muttered, “No ambulance, just take me to the hospital.”
You saw his big white eyes narrow. “I can’t afford an ambulance. Hell, I’ll barely afford the medical bill,” you chucked at your own expense, stopping immediately because it hurt too bad. “If you don’t want to bring me call my boyfriend. He’ll pick me up.”
The hero’s eyes widened again and he rapidly shook his head. “No, no, I can get you to the hospital.”
He searched the man’s pockets, trying to find a key for those pesky handcuffs. He was unsuccessful. Sighing, he decided he’d just have to break them. There was no time to waste. You could be seriously hurt.
When the handcuffs were removed from your wrists, you practically cried out in joy. You rubbed your swollen wrists, wincing at how tender whey were.
“Let’s get you outta here, yeah?” Spider-Man muttered as he helped you up. You limped alongside him down the stairs to the street.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” You had asked him. He seemed so familiar. His eyes widened.
“You’ve uh… probably seen me before, y’know… as Spider-Man,” he stumbled over his words. You almost laughed at how he tried to make his voice sound deeper. It was adorable. It reminded you of something that Peter would do.
You gasped, “Peter!”
Spider-Man’s head whipped towards you.
“I have to tell him I’m okay, that’s my boyfriend. He might be worried about me.”
“We can call him when you get to the hospital okay?” Spider-Man gently told her as they got in a cab that he had hailed down. Spider-Man told him to drive to the nearest hospital as fast as he could.
“Okay, sure… I’m sure he probably hasn’t noticed anyway. Y’know I was goin’ over to his apartment to surprise him. He’s been workin’ so hard on school and I jus’ wanted to make him feel better. He’s been so stressed lately.” You pouted. “Now I s’pose he’s gonna be even more stressed.”
Tears came to your eyes. You wished you could say it was all from the pain, but a part of you knew that you were sad that your boyfriend would only have more on his plate with you in the hospital.
“Y‘know what… maybe I shouldn’t call him. I don’ wanna burden him any more than he already is.”
Underneath the mask, Peter was crying. He couldn’t respond to you. He knew that you’d pick up on the wobble of his voice if he tried. How could you think such things? You were the most important thing in his life. More important than his classes, more important than his Spider-Man duties. You were his everything.
How could his everything think that she was a burden? It pained his heart to know that you thought that way.
Clearing his throat, he said “I think you should tell him. He’s probably worried out of his mind right now.” He wasn’t wrong. Peter was scared shitless. You never opened up like this to strangers and your head was lolling onto his shoulder.
“C’mon, stay with me, baby. Don’t do this to me!” He pleaded. He couldn’t let someone else leave him. He couldn’t watch another important person in his life die. He didn’t want you to join the list of loved ones he had lost.
Peter didn’t even care that you or the cab driver knew he was crying now. He had every right to cry when the girl he loved was falling into unconsciousness.
“C’mon, baby. Be strong for me, yeah? I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”
Those were the last words you were able to hear before you blacked out.
Upon waking up, you saw your red-eyed boyfriend hunched over in a nearby seat. “Peter?” Your voice came out groggy and dry, but it got his attention. He cried out your name as he ran to your side. Tears were falling from his eyes as he held your hand and called for the nurse.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay, Peter. It's not as bad as it looks. I’m fine really.”
Truthfully you didn’t feel much pain, but that was probably the drugs they had you hooked up on.
“Please don’t leave me, please. I love you too much. Please don’t leave,” he pleaded, like a broken record.
You knew your boyfriend had abandonment issues, but you’d never really seen them as bad as in that moment. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re my everything you know that?”
You just nodded and rubbed your thumb over his hand. “I know, baby. I know.”