The Weight of Us ｡ Peter Parker [3]

8 - Nothing to Lose

Dear humanity, on behalf of the women and men that honoured this world against Thanos, darkened and ridden with spite, you are welcome. You are welcome the Avengers set aside their grief to come back to return the light to the shadows. You are welcome Daredevil returned from hiding to defeat Kingpin, after you ruined his good name and threw him aside like dirt, like he meant nothing to New York. You are welcome Black Widow was not the heartless killer you made her out to be all those years ago. You are welcome these heroes we tarnished and casted aside as vigilantes, threats to humanity and even labeled monsters, decided we were good enough to save. You are welcome they cared enough to return when we branded them, imprisoned them and pushed them into hiding. You are welcome they sacrificed themselves when they had everything to lose, when we, as a society, turned on them once upon a time. 

Printed words stared up at me during breakfast, twisting my stomach like a rubber band. My father had fanned the newspaper from Seattle across the kitchen table, knowing very well the words written by a snarky journalist would create a hole in my heart and burn the fire in my stomach brighter. 

Dear heroes, on behalf of humanity, the ones that regret the many things we put you all through over the years, we are sorry. We are sorry you lost more than you would ever admit, to save millions of lives that never felt you were worthy. We are sorry you are now burdened with great sorrow, something many of us will never understand. We are sorry, you deserved better from the world you cared enough about to save many times over. We admire you, many of us did prior, but you did the impossible. You, with great power, with great motivation and desire to help, gifted us with the best possible thing you ever could. Your help. Even when we did not deserve it. 

Something deep within my body, my soul, squirmed with uneasiness. My eyes snapped back to my parents, who were busy pretending not to watch me read the words written by Sutton Cohen, a fierce journalist who had written a letter to the world about the events that still burdened many of us. 

My mother was making faces at Adelaide, who was in the middle of getting her porridge everywhere and my father was taking large sips of his burning coffee. They were both trying very hard to not say a word, but with his article placed perfectly within my grasp this morning, they were practically shouting at me. 

"Very sneaky," I said quietly, folding the newspaper into my lap. "How long have you planned this little intervention?" 

"Whatever do you mean, darling?" My mother's words were clipped, which meant she was most definitely hiding something. I watched as her eyes flittered towards my father, who had finally finished his coffee and now adjusted his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

I wiggled in my chair. "I don't need to be babied." 

"You're very correct, you're a grown adult, almost. So, do you want to talk about your visions?" My father started slowly, eyes focused solely on me. I had not mentioned to them that my visions were back, but maybe they didn't need to be told out loud. "Or about the suit Tony Stark left you? A suit you will not try on?"

My heart clenched with his questions. "I did try it on."

"Once," My mother sighed deeply, moving Adelaide's juice from her tiny hands, not wanting her to spill it down her shirt. "It's been locked away in your room ever since then. We've not wanted to push you into anything...but maybe it's time to rethink your options."

I could still remember how the metallic suit felt against my skin and how it fitted my body like a glove, Tony Stark very good at tinkering around with such things. I could still feel how my lungs had dried up and my muscles tensed wildly inside the suit. I could still hear my voice crying out for my parents to take the thing off, to get me the hell out of here.