It was a perfectly normal Tuesday. Peter was patrolling like he always does after school when he heard a shattering crunch down in the street below him. He swung down as fast as he could, narrowly missing an ad board. He leaped into the chaos of the crowd of people, eventually opting out to view the situation from above. He climbed up a tall glass building to his left, nearly losing his grip at the sight below him. A seven-way car collision covered three blocks. Four of the cars involved in the collision were crumpled like soda cans, while the other three had still sustained considerable damage. He watched in shocked horror as people were dragged from the scene, limp and bloody. “Oh, my god.”
Although only seven cars had crashed (that’s still a lot) over 20 people had been injured. He rushed down and began helping people out of the way and hauling people out of cars. As he made his way to the last car, he felt his heart rate spike with anxiety.
“AUNT MAY!” Laying in her flipped over red Honda was Peter’s, Aunt May. She had a deep gash in her forehead, her eyes closed as thick blood dripped down her face. Peter sobbed as he ran forward, ripping the door off the car, quickly but gently pulling May from the upturned vehicle. He panicked all over again when he glanced down and couldn’t see her breathing. He ran over to the EMT’s, placing his Aunt gently onto the board. He held her hand but was forced to let go as the emergency responders lifted her into the ambulance.
His heart clenched painfully in his chest as people eagerly crowded around him, shaking his hand and thanking him for his help. Peter barely pulled himself together and politely excused himself before he broke down. He waved goodbye and swung to a building down the street, landing on the barren tarmac, sobbing in distress. “Please be okay,” he whispered.
He took a moment to gather himself before swinging back to him and May’s apartment, ripping off his mask and jumping out of his Spider-Man suit and into his normal clothes. He raced out of the apartment (zooooom) and ran two miles to the hospital.
“Has May Parker been admitted?” he huffed to the receptionist, his eyes still red and puffy with tears. The receptionist looked at him with concern in her eyes before typing furiously at her computer. Peter’s heart sank as she looked up with pity, before saying the six words that shattered what little piece was left of his happiness. “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.”
Peter nodded numbly, his eyes blank as he attempted to process what he was truly alone now. “C-can I see her?” his voice cracked with grief. The receptionist nodded sadly, “Room 375, floor 2.” Peter thanked her quietly, walking slowly to the elevator. He hazily pressed the 2nd-floor button, the beep of the elevator shocking him out of his daze. He ran down the hall, his lungs constricting with fear. His mind raced as he sped past the rooms. 352. 357. 368. 371. 374. 375. Peter stopped cold, his mind frozen.
He reached out and jerkily pulled the door open, the sterile scent of alcohol stinging his nose. He barely stepped foot into the room before he caught sight of his Aunt May lying in the hospital bed, her face marred and bruised with injuries. But worst of all was the sight of her still chest and her cold skin. Peter rushed to her side with a cry, his body feeling ready to explode with agony at the sight of his last living family member lying still before him.
The tears he had been so desperately trying to hold in burst out, his crumpled frame shaking with sobs. His cries grew and grew as he realized he was truly alone, and that he would be put into foster care. Peter soon fell asleep to the stillness of the empty hospital room, his hand still clutching tightly to his dead Aunt May’s.
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