The cut bled down his arm. He touched it and it was sticky yet fluid. He needed to go somewhere for help, but he didn't know where to go. He didn't know where he was or who was there. It was a stormy night that cleansed his wounds with a painful sting. He winced as a cold chill found its way down his spine.
He stumbled into a girl walking along an alleyway; she was in a rush to get home. When she looked up, she saw his mask. Her eyes widened to the realization of who was standing in front of her. She tried to say something, but she could not make a sound. Her lips quivered with excitement until she saw his blood dripping to the pavement.
"Oh my –" she started.
"I'm all right," he tried to tell her, but when his hand came off of his arm, the glove of his suit was dripping with blood.
"No, you're not…come with me. I can help you," she said worriedly.
"I don't want to put you in any danger. That's where this cut came from in the first place."
"Please let me help you. You're a hero, and you deserve proper care." The girl led the bleeding boy quickly to her apartment. She sat him down on her couch and retrieved her first aid kit. She wrapped up his arm and sat on the loveseat opposite of him.
"Do I get to see the real Spider-man?" she asked him.
"What do you mean? I am the real Spider-man."
"I mean that I want to see the man beneath the mask. I want to know who I am thanking for saving me next time I may be in peril."
"Oh, the man beneath the mask is no superhero. He's nothing special."
"Sure he is! Spider-man can't have all the courage without getting it from the man beneath the mask."
The boy hesitated. "I don't think you'll like the man behind the mask."
The girl smiled. "Try me."
Slowly, the mask was lifted from his face and ruffled his hair. He kept his head down in hopes that the girl would not see his face. The expression on the girl's face went from excitement to surprise.
"Peter Parker?" she said quizzically. "I-I…"
"I have to go…I'm so sorry," Peter said.
"Peter, wait!" she said as he was walking out the door. He paused to listen to her. A single tear streamed down her face.
"What happened to my father?" she asked. Peter did not respond. "Peter, please. I know you saw what happened that night on the street corner."
"I'm so sorry." With that, Peter left her in the apartment and went to the roof of the building. After swinging from rooftop to rooftop, he stumbled upon one with a journal. He trudged on through the rain to the journal, which was soaking wet. He climbed down the building and sat down up against a wall. He hugged the journal as tears began to stream his face, blending in with the raindrops already dripping from his hair. He pulled the pen out of the spiral spine and wrote down one sentence:
With great power comes great responsibility.