sorry wrong number

Part 24

Trigger warning: mentions abuse

I land on the floor as quietly as I can, wincing as my left foot touches the ground. I must have twisted sometime today. Boy is that going to hurt tomorrow. I quietly close the window, it's nearing 1am and I've passed my curfew by a while. I take off my suit, my aching muscles begging for me to stop everything and fall to the floor. I'm used to it by now of course, I've been going through this almost everyday for 2 years, it doesn't ever really get easier.

I quickly try to change into my pyjamas. I'm sure if it was just the Spider-Maning, I wouldn't be in this much pain. It's the whole mixture of bullies, evil villains and if course the person I try to avoid the most. The person responsible for me not being able to eat as much as I really need or want to, who I spend most of evenings hiding from. The person who makes my life a complete hell, adding bruises upon bruises to my already scarred body. Yet, I always seem to forgive her, always seem to think 'that it'll be different today', the person who no matter what she'll do, I'll probably always love her and consider my family cause she's the only one I have left. The person I'm trying really hard not to wake up. I'm just about to head to bed, when I accidentally trip over my spider-suit and not-so-gracefully land on the floor with a big thud.

"PETER BENJAMIN PARKER" is screamed across our tiny apartment. A sound so familiar, echos through the hallways. I swallowed nervously and my breath quickens. This really isn't my night. I quickly get up, ignoring my weak spidery-sense, warning me to stay hidden, to not make myself vulnerable to the hurt and abuse I know I'll face on the other side of the door. Yet like a fool, I feel myself walking towards the voice, I'm drawn to the door like a moth to a flame. The familiarity of it all lures me in, the whole vicious cycle that keeps knocking me down. My fingers feel the coldness of the door handle. With a deep breath I turn the handle, ready to face my impending doom.

/—/—/—/—-/—-/—-/—-/—/—:—/—/—::—:—/—

I hiss, as I bandage my poor acing body. There is no part of my body at this stage that doesn't hurt. I bring the set of tweezers back to my forehead. I never saw the glass beer-bottle coming towards my head, but I sure did feel it. On a good day my spidey-senses should warn me of this, however I haven't eaten a full meal in a few days and I'm starting to feel the side effects. Plus, dodging it would not have been good for my health. I shakily take the last piece of glass off my forehead, my body will be working overtime to fix the damage of tonight.

The punches get numb over time. You eventually get used to them, they don't and never will hurt as much as the insults thrown at me. Those injuries last a lot longer too, always replaying in my mind. It's a constant reminder, that my last family member, my own aunt, doesn't care about me. And if she doesn't care about me who will?

The punishments started a few years back, I can vaguely remember what Aunt May was like before it begun. It was back when Uncle Ben was still alive, she was happier back then. I was happier back then. But then I had to go and get Uncle Ben killed, and Aunt May never really forgave me for that, and to be honest I never did either. She started drinking, a lot. The apartment always filled with more empty bottles, then unopened. She'd stop going to work as often too, meaning I had to get a job to pay the bills, and hopefully buy some food if I had extra, but that didn't happen often. I can still remember the first time she struck me. The rest though is a dizzy haze of punches, kicks and insults thrown at my face. I had lost hope that she would change about a year ago, and I knew the old Aunt May was never coming back.

I finish putting the bandage on my head. I quietly exit the bathroom. Aunt May was asleep, she'll probably be gone tomorrow. She usually leaves after a big fight like the one tonight. I quickly look through the kitchen to find some food, any food. There wasn't much, but I managed to find two granola bars, they're probably expired but they'll have to do. I gobble them down as quickly as I can, just in case Aunt May wakes back up and takes them from me. I go back to my room. I turn the lights off, hop into bed and check my phone. Mr Grammar didn't message me today. That's ok, he's probably too busy for me anyway. I turn my phone off, and curl up into a little ball. I pull the blanket up a little higher. I feel my eyes close, and hope that tomorrow will be a good day. With that thought I fall into a deep, restless sleep.

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A/n: Hello everyone, hope you're all doing good. Sorry for this kinda long, and a little sad chapter. I'm also sorry for making Aunt May abusive, I just didn't want to kill her off later on, so this seemed like the best option in the long run. Also thank you for 92k views, you are all insane and I will always be eternally grateful:)) hope you all have a nice day/night.