Chapter Text
He could feel them reaching out for him with their dirty, bony hands. But they never touched. Why didn’t they touch? They always touch. Always. They’re everywhere—they live in the dark corners of his eyes, in the creases on the walls, in his hair and in his soul, but even when he turns around it always seems like there’s nothing there.
"Isn't he a pretty one?" he can feel the beer breath washing over him from behind. His skin crawls as he hears another drunkard take a gulp. He should know by now that people can smell fear when you're covered in it.
Peter woke up with a startled gasp, feeling sweat break out along his spine as if someone had reached into the deepest part of his brain and grabbed his heart by the roots. It was still dark outside, only the thin light coming from the windows cutting through the darkness like a knife. A dream had left him trembling ,he rubbed at his eyes to try to calm himself down enough to fall back asleep. But after several minutes, he finally gave up.
He sat up against the headboard of his bed and tried to clear his mind.
"Do you know what time is it?"
Peter jumped seeing Skip his foster father in the bedroom doorway, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he looked at Peter expectantly, waiting for an answer.
"No," said Peter without thinking.
"Sorry." He looked away. He wasn't going to have a repeat of last night's incident .
His foster father rolled his eyes. "Come downstairs to the kitchen. I'll make us some breakfast. You don't really want to stay in your room all day today, do you?"
Peter couldn't stop staring at him, trying to figure him out. He hadn't done anything wrong. And yet… the feeling of dread lingered. It was a feeling he knew well, the kind you got from something bad happening. Something bad had happened. And he had a very good idea who had caused it.
When Peter eventually decided he needed food, Skip took him downstairs to the kitchen where he helped himself to cereal. As usual, the other man didn't say anything to him. He just handed Peter his bowl and then started eating his own.
After finishing the cereal Skip tossed him a bag.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"What's this?"
Skip shrugged. "Just stuff for today. You need to deliver it before school."
"Zip?" Peter asked
as Skip walked away, his shoes clomping loudly on the wooden floor.
"Yes. Just zip, cocaine, Big C, or whatever you call it, you hear me? No more talking to anyone. No more asking questions. Got it?"
Peter nodded.
Without another word Skip walked out of the room.
The thing is Peter should be able to stand up to Skip.
After Peter got bit by that radio active spider from that field trip he's got this weird freaky powers.
He should be able to use it to get out of these shitty situations. Yet whenever Skip's icy blue eyes looks at him he'd be back at the cold dark room with Skips rough hand inside his shirt. With Skips ugly sneer right behind him, his words seared hot and painful into Peter's head: “Do it. Do it right now! I won't be so nice next time!"
Maybe Skip has some sort of weird power too…
He got out of the apartment.
He’d rather spend the day away from the Skip's apartment anyway.
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Peter roams aimlessly. He doesn't want to go anywhere.
In fact, everything makes him feel even worse than he already did. Everything is so overwhelming. He walks past buildings he knows by memory (which is to say he passes them twice) and feels every single time like he's walking towards his death. The bag of cocaine feels heavy in his backpack. The air is filled with the stench of rotting flesh, but he still keeps on walking.
Eventually he reached the address where Skip asked him to deliver the package.
As soon as he stepped foot in the warehouse, he felt uneasy.
Every fiber in his body is telling him to flee.
"Parker long time no see" said an old voice, deep and menacing. Its owner approached him from behind. He recognized the familiar smell of rotting fish and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
"been around" Peter said with a false sense of bravery.
"you've got the package?" another gruff voice asked behind him.
Peter nodded.
“Can I have a hit?" Peter asked
“You got money?”
Peter frowned
"Thought so" said the first guy.
"Can think of another way to pay" the second one said, stepping closer. ‘There are plenty of ways to pay for what we want, sweetheart.”
Peter swallowed the bile back to his throat. And smiled "whatever you want"
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Peter was getting tired. There were too many shadows and too much light.
The shadows moved like spiders, crawling all over his skin.
The light hurt his eyes, made him feel nauseous.
He kept rubbing at his eyelids.
What would happen if he stopped touching them? Would they disappear like a bad dream?
And then, when the room was completely black, there was an enormous bang, so loud that Peter felt his ears ring and saw stars.
"Did you see where I put my pants?" he asked to no one.
He hears sirens in distance. Peter stumbles back to his feet, the only way out is through the window.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The glass broke as Peter reached for it. He swayed in his feet. So far away from the ground.
But the police are here now. The next thing he knew, someone pulled him up by his arms and shoved him into a cop car.
Peter demands a lawyer first thing.
"Later" the officer said.
"I'm gonna sue you for Police brutality."
The cop laughed and started to talk to someone on the phone.
"I want a lawyer" peter screamed
"we need your parents name kiddo" one of them said
"Good luck finding that" Peter scoffed
The officer shook his head. Then he looked at Peter seriously
"Listen. This isn’t funny."
"Never said it was, They're dead dumbass. Or I hope they're dead I'm not so sure. Never knew them" peter said.
"I'm in foster care"
He gave them Skip's number not that he'll come and bail him out.
"So everyone at the warehouse says you're their dealer."
"they are lying"
"Listen kid you could go to jail"
"I'm fourteen"
"So juvi then"
"I want a lawyer "now peter sound like a broken record
The officers stared at him blankly and left without another word.