Hey guys! This is an IronDad, SpiderSon story and Aunt May is included. (takes place somewhere in between Homecoming and Infinity War)
WARNING: Depression, guilt, Self-harm, major details of injuries, and panic attacks are mentioned in this story so if you are somehow triggered by any of those things or just don't like those things then please go to another story.
~Enjoy~
Day 1: April 28, 2017.
Guilt.
That was all Peter felt.
The only thing that snapped him back to reality was the thunderstorm passing over New York tonight. But even the loud crackles of thunder brought back memories.
Horrid memories.
Memories of a night that he wished never existed.
A night that was so recent, that the smell of burning flesh was still lingering somewhere in his nostrils. A smell he won't be able to get rid of for a long time.
He could've stopped the bomb if he only listened to his spider-sense, instead of ignoring it. Even if that was a mistake that could not be undone, it didn't make him feel any better.
In fact, it made him feel worse.
'Those people had homes to go home to. Families to go back to. And it's my fault their families will never see them again. Because I killed them. I didn't stop that bomb. I didn't listen to my spider-sense. All 5 of them would still be alive right now if it weren't for me.' Peter thought as he looked out the window of his room.
Rain hitting the glass pane was making a sound that was soothing for his over active and worried senses. The thunder drummed loud in the sky, just like the night those people died. Lighting strikes sprinkled here and there over New York. Causing flashes of lavender purple to emerge from the gray and black night sky.
Peter hadn't felt this way in a while. The only time he remembered feeling this much pain and guilt was when his uncle Ben died in his arms.
The physical pain he felt was being overwritten by the weight of guilt still heavy in his chest. Though he had barely made it back to his apartment in Queens because of his injuries.
He had 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns running all the way from his left side to his back, making it hard to lay comfortably. scratches and cuts were peppered on his body and deep cuts were on this stomach, arms and legs. The thick, crimson, liquid known as blood was seeping through the bandages he wrapped his body with earlier in the bathroom.
He was pretty sure he had a concussion as well.
Not like he was paying attention to the pain his body was in anyway since they would all be gone before the week was up because of his healing factor.
The pain he was feeling wasn't physical though. His heart ached because he didn't save those people. The people he swore to protect in order to make sure their families never felt the pain of losing a loved one like he did over 1 year ago.
The feeling of hopelessness, sorrow and grief was something he wasn't a stranger too. And keeping people safe so that they never feel that pain was the reason he became the crime-fighting, vigilante known as Spider-man.
He felt like a failure. He felt like he needed to teach himself a lesson. He needed to discipline himself for his foolish actions. He needed a razor.
Peter quickly got up from his bed and made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The rain was still hitting the windows hard and the thunder was still roaring in the sky loudly.
Peter grabbed a razor blade and held it up to his arm. He quickly slid the razor across his arm. He looked down at the some-what deep cut, blood began to leak out the sides of the cut and he smiled.
The pain was nice. The blood leaking from his cut was soothing. This is what he deserved. What's the harm in doing it again. It wasn't bad at all.
Peter held the razor back up to a different spot on his forearm and sliced it against his skin. Grinning as he watched blood spill out of his new, deeper cut.
He decided on a new way to do things.
If 1 person died on his watch, then he got 2 cuts on his arms and 3 on his legs.
If 5 people died on his watch, then he got 5 cuts on both arms and 8 on his legs.
If 10 people or more died on his watch, then he got 10 cuts on his arms and 11 on his legs.
After a few more cuts on his arms and legs, he washed the razor clean of his blood, put it back to where it was originally placed and put a few bandages on his cuts so that they wouldn't through or else Aunt May would find out.
'This is the punishment I deserve for killing those people. Those people died on my watch and I was too stupid to listen to my spider-sense' Peter thought as he turned off the bathroom light and walked quietly back to his room and the his door.
The thunderstorm softened his tense and uneasy body as he lay on his bed looking out his window. He began to fall into a deep sleep. Something his healing factor does to him whenever he is hurt badly. Thank goodness it was the weekend.
The guilt that Peter felt didn't subside even when he fell asleep, because all he could dream about was the screams of the people and the flames surrounding the alleyway.
The storm outside eased his mind so that he could sleep.
What a way to end the day.