Sorry this took a bit. I actually wrote it a while ago, I just didn't edit it till now. Enjoy! (And you actually get told a little why it's called Cold Hands)


Looking behind me as I held my skateboard, I saw that girl from yesterday trudging a good distance behind me. She was the one who gave me, like, fifteen of her pencils and looked at me like I was Jesus or something like that.

I don't know her name. I had seen her face before. Many times. She's been at this high school the whole time. But she never spoke to anyone. I think people talk about her, they say rude things but I supposed it could be worse. Just about as much as I've heard is that she's a bitch. Is that true at all? She didn't seem like one.

I turned around before she could notice, but I doubt she would; she had her music in and she looked pretty out of it. The next class I had been with her, maybe I could get a chance to speak to her. I never see her with anyone, maybe we could be friends. Everyone needs a friend.

"Hey," I walk back to her, but it seemed she didn't hear me. Pulling out of her ear buds with my finger, I smiled slightly, "Hello." I said more clearly now she was able to hear me.

She gave me that same look as she did yesterday. I have no idea why she did though, it made no sense, "H-h-hi," She stammered, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"I'm Peter Parker." I smiled, sticking out of hand to her. I was trying to be my kindest to her.

She looks at the hand for a moment before taking it gently. Her hands were freezing. The coldest hands I have ever touched. Why were her hands so cold? Were they always like this? "Hazel Lily-Rose Willows." she says plainly, swallowing roughly.

Then I saw it, on the edge of her sleeve. She had bruises seeping out for the fabric. Was she okay? I hope it's nothing serious, "Hey, you okay?" I look at her, furrowing my eye brows slightly.

Her expression changed. It was scary how fast someone could change, "Mind your own fucking business." She hissed, yanking her hand away, "Leave me alone." Her vile tone echoed in my ear as she walked to class. What had I done wrong?

Sitting next to her in class, she had her hood up, eyes looking down to her notebook and music playing in her ears. I wonder what she likes. The Black Keys of course from her shirt. I almost said something about it-being that I love the Black Keys-but there was a bit of an odd occurence between us yesterday with the pencils.

"Fuck... Off..." She whispers, slightly turning her head to me, I couldn't see her face, but I could tell she was upset. She obviously knew I was staring at her. I'm not very discrete on that type of thing.

"I'm sorry if I angered you. It was not my intention, I was just trying to help." I looked down at her hunched over as my eyes grow sad. Were things really that bad for her? Maybe it's not my place to say anything.

"I don't need your help, Peter." Her hushed tone only grew angrier as she turned her attention back to her sketchbook, a simple rose being drawn on her page. It was simply beautiful.

I guess if I-Peter Parker-can't help her, I'll have to have my friend deal with it.

===/===

I push through my front door again, only being able to get halfway up my stairs before a voice spoke, "Hazel, come here dear." My Aunt calls for me from the kitchen. I shuffle through the shit piled up and see her in the kitchen, cutting up apples, "Do you have a fifty?" she asked in her quiet, sweet tone.

"No, Uncle Joe took all my money last night. I'm sorry." I say in a small tone, looking down.

"What have I told you?" She tsked, "You need to get a job. If you don't, you know what going to happen to you, Honey." Her back was turned to me, but I could tell she was frustrated.

"I'm sorry. It's not easy. I've got school and then there's homework and I have to study-" I began, but she wiped around so fast it was scary.

"You will get a job and make money to support this family or you will be kicked out to live on the streets! And you remember what that was like!" Aunt Jen holds her knife out in front of me, her angry face soon fading to a sweet one, "Come here, Hazel." I didn't move, "Come here, Sweetie." She smiled and I finally complied.

She guides for me to stand in front of her. She always treated me like I was six. My hands were soon cupped by hers. With her guiding me, we cut the apple together, "Isn't this nice...?" She hummed to herself.

It wasn't long before she fucked up. My hand was sliced right across the top, "Ooops!" She said innocently as my blood poured over the cutting board. I looked at it. What had happened? The white apples soon turned red, my pale hand soon turned paler. I looked at it and gaped. My aunt was gone. She was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't move my left hand as it poured nonstop. I rushed for a rag to try to stop it.

Though I stopped. I didn't apply it on just yet. My whole body froze as I watched the crimson trickle down my hand on on to the floor. It would stain for sure. I had no issue with that. I hadn't seen unintentional blood in so long. It looked much different then when you don't want it there.

Snapping out of my trans, I gripped the towel to my hand tightly.

I stood on the tiny what you could call a porch outside my room. I could take a step onto it, and only one person could stand beside you. I looked out at the kitchen rag was clutched to my skin. Life fucking sucked.

"You okay?" I heard a voice behind me. Wiping around, I squeaked and looked up to find a blue and red spider on top on my roof. Spider-Man. I never paid attention to the little bastard. He had enough attention, I didn't want to be apart of it. He never came to save me, maybe that's why I disliked him so much. But right now, that might change. I supposed I was starring at him too long he spoke again, "You alright?" He repeated.

"Wha-? Oh, this?" I held up my hand, "Yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing." I shook it off like it was nothing. In all honesty though, it hurt like a motherfucker.

He hopped down in front of me, standing inches from me due to lack of space on the porch, "You're lying. Don't lie." He said simply and took my left hand, removing the rag slowly, I winced at the pain. It looked a lot worse than I thought it did, "See, it's not okay. Where's your first aid kit?"

I scoffed and looked at the masked man, "You think I have a first aid kit?" I laughed softly though I just wanted to cry, "I don't have one." I sighed.

"Then hold on," His arm snaked around my waist and we were soon pulled off my porch.

"I swear if you take me to the hospital..." I warned him, being completely freaked out with everything flying by me like this.

"I wont take you to the hospital. I've got a place better than that." There was a sound of hope in his tone. I just had to wonder where the hell he was bringing me.

The ride was silent. My eyes were closed for most of the ride. To say the least, this freaked me out. I am not seeing me do this again anytime in my future.

When I hit the ground, and I opened my eyes, I looked to see Spider-Man nowhere. He just left me. Well that was kinda a dick move. Now no one has help me and my hand hurts like fuck. I looked around, the gashed thing dangling by my side. All life was taken out of it now. I sighed, and walked down the sidewalk trying to find a bus.

"Hazel?" A voice stopped me. I turned around to see the last person I would want to see, "You alright?" He races off his porch to come look at my hand, "Come in, Hazel, I can help you."

Normally I would have denied Peter's invitation, but this really needed some help.. I nodded my head slowly and walked with him into to his house and eventually his bedroom, "Now, I understand if you don't want to tell me what wrong, but I will be here for you."

I glance around the teen's room. It looked so normal. I would love to live in a place like this, "You don't know me and yet you'll still be here for me," I said it more ironically, but it pieced together why he was so pure.

"Yes, it's what us good people do. Now come here," He patted the space on his bed, "So would you like to tell me what's going on?"

I follow to where he requested me to sit. Looking at his hand holding bandages, "Oh, it's just a kitchen accident..." It wasn't a complete lie, more bending the truth. I squinted when he took a wet rag and wiped away the blood.

"Alright..." He could sense I wasn't tell the complete truth, but after this morning, I think he learned not to press on with that sort of thing, "How did my find my house anyways?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, uh, I don't think you'll believe me, but... Spider-Man kinda brought me here... It's kinda crazy I know." I giggled quietly, blushing slightly.

Peter just looked at me then smiled, "Oh, yeah, he's a cool I guess. You must like him then, huh?"

I took a moment before I answered, "No, actually. Well. I mean, I didn't before today. He never helped me out, I guess, but today he did, so he must not be so bad after all." I shrugged as Peter cleaned my wound.

"Oh," He said simply, "Well what do you mean by 'help'?" He said quietly, trying not to push my buttons.

I frowned, trying to hold back my anger, "I just need some help at home is all." I said plainly, but my tone was harsh, sending the message for him to back off before he got into it.

I could see Peter swallow hard as he looked at me, "Oh, okay." I could tell he got it, "Hey Hazel..." He looked me right in my cold blue eyes. It was almost intimidating the way he looked at me. It was so bad I couldn't look at him. No one looked me that dead in the eyes except my uncle. It scared me.

"Wh-what." I squeaked, looking at the ground. I squeaked again once Peter rubbed alcohol over my wound.

"I want to you to look at me so I can talk to you," His tone soon became worried.

I looked up at him, returning his strong gaze. It only lasted a few moment before it became soft and I couldn't keep my eyes on him too long. I kept thinking if I did, he would kick my ass. Something I learned quickly when I moved in with my aunt and uncle when I was fifteen.

"I want you to know, I will be your friend. I will keep you as safe as I can. But you have to tell me what is going on. I can't do anything if I don't know." It was almost as if he was pleading to me. But why? We have only known each other for less than a day. Why was he already working so hard to keep me safe? "I need you to take this off so I can wrap your hand up.." He tugged at my sweatshirt and I pulled my hand away.

"No!" I snapped, "No, Peter. I don't need you to keep me safe, I don't need you to clean my wounds, and I don't need you to tell me what to do!" I scowled at him, holding my slowly bleeding hand to my chest, my jaw clenched.

"Hazel," Peter looked at me with serious, yet slightly angry eyes. It was strange to see it from someone so kind. And I didn't expect him to lunge forward and pin me down to the bed, grabbing my wrists, "Hazel! Look at yourself!" He pulled my sleeves down, about to make a point but he just gawked at me. No, it was more my arms. He looked so surprised for a while. In a trans as his fingers traced over the red lines down my arm. Peter swallowed hard before his frown only turned into burning anger, "See! Look at what you do to yourself! Not to mention the bruises! Hazel you have to tak to someone!"

"I don't have anyone!" I shouted back, my teeth stuck together. I tried to shake free from him, but his grip was too tight, and fear started to flow into my brain, "If I had someone wouldn't I have stopped doing this?!" I nudged to my arms, "THERE IS NO ONE TO PROTECT ME PETER!" I shook violently as his grip was getting painfully tight.

"Then let me help you! I don't want to see anyone in pain like this!" His face inches from me as he frowned, his eyebrows would have almost come off they were so tightly knitted together, "LET SOMEONE HELP YOU!" His hands gripped me so tight, tears strained at the corner of my eyes.

"P-P-Peter... I-it hurts..." I whined. My strong loud voice was now small, pleading. Like how I speak to my aunt and uncle, "Le-let go... P-please..."

I didn't think someone's face could turn so white so fast. His hands let go and I got off the bed to sit in the corner farthest to him, holding my wrists, my hand still bleeding.

"H-Hazel... I'm so sorry..." I think he saw now what I went through. I didn't need to tell him. He could see it in my eyes. He knew what I lived with. Slowly, carefully, like I was a hurt bird, he wanted to help but he didn't want me to try flying away, "I just... I just want to help. Please let me help, Hazel..." Slowly, he sat beside me. He was a slight distance away from me, but still close enough to make me a bit uncomfortable. I supposed it showed.

Finally, I looked at him and blinked, the tears rolling down my face, "I need help. I've need help since I was ten..." I cried, pulling my legs in, "I need someone to fix things. I need a reason to get in the morning other than to get out of the hell that is my house. I need help trying not to ruin myself more than I already have. I need help taking away that gun in my room..." I mumbled the last part, but I could feel Peter looking at me, "I need help figuring out what kind of monster I am..."

Peter slowly inched closer, a gentle arm wrapping around my waist, "I will help you. As much as I can." He whispered, a thumb brushing my tear aside, "But what do you mean by 'monster'? You seem perfectly fine.."

I swallowed before I answered, "I can hear people thoughts. I see auras. I'm such a freak..."

"No. You are not a freak. I honestly think people like you are amazing." He smiled, and I looked at him.

"Well thanks I guess. But my abilities are the least of my worries." I sighed, looking forward.

"Hazel. I want you to have dinner with us. And you can stay in here for the night." He smiled, "I want you to treat this like your home. Aunt May will love you... As long as you are nice to her..." He choked out.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I sat up, frowning, but it soon went away, "Never mind. I know... You know, I honestly don't try to be mean... I just..."

"I know... I think you have a right to act the way you do..." He comforts me, "Now.. have you eaten at all?"

I snap my head to him, "No. I haven't eaten if four days. May I please eat some food." I rushed the words all together. It was pleading and excitement put together.

He just stared at me, in shock and amusement, "I think we will get you more than just 'some'." He stood up, holding his hand out to me, "Come on. I hope you like pizza." He smiled kindly.

"I love pizza." I smiled. I haven't had it since I was ten. I barely remember the taste...


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