Some people might say they have it bad. They think that their life is worse than any other. They're wrong. No matter how bad life gets for them they can work through it. For me, however, I can't see anything getting better for me anytime soon. My mom and brother are dead, Dad blames me and wants me dead for it, and I'm in an orphanage. I've been here for a few weeks now. I still have nightmares about how I could've saved them. How I had the power to choose. How I thought I could save everyone.
I'm in an office. It belongs to the owner of the orphanage. I'm being adopted apparantly. I don't know who would want a kid who is a worthless sack of crap but, hey, to each their own I guess. Ms. Warner (the chick who owns this office) walks in with a man in a wheel chair. I know this guy. Who doesn't? It's Peter Parker. The man who worked with Tony Stark and branched off to form Parker Industries. But I know him much more than anyone else on this planet. I know his darkest secret. He used to be Spiderman.
He wheels his chair next to me while Ms. Warner sits down at her desk. He gives me a warm smile and puts his hand on my left shoulder. I smile back because this means I get a second chance to make things right. To do what my mother and brother would have been proud of me for. Peter's torch was dying and he needed to pass it on. It's time for me to take a firm grasp on that torch and rekindle the flame that once shined so bright. I will become the next Spiderman.