Chapter 7- The Stuffed Bear

SATURDAY

The amount of labeled food in the kitchen had lessened considerably; for this, Peter was grateful. What he wasn't grateful for, was the amount of alcohol in the apartment increasing. Wine glasses half full and toppled over in the sink, bottles of unfinished liquor cluttered the counters and boxed wine sitting in the fridge.

Peter navigated his way around these things and poured himself a bowl of unmarked corn flakes—not the best tasting cereal, but certainly an upgrade from the 'nothing' he had been eating lately. He sat down at the kitchen table, his new friend sitting in the chair next to him. It's presence reminding him of a kinder time.

May sat across from five-year-old Peter Parker after presenting him with a pancake. It had a whipped-cream smile, a raspberry nose and blueberries for eyes. The little boy hugged a stuffed bear to his chest, the red ribbon around its neck tickling him. He had received it a week ago, before his parents had befallen tragedy and now he refused to let go of it, never letting it out of his sight. Peter looked at the pancake and to May's encouraging eyes and kind smile before him, she had tried so hard to make him happy. Burnt five pancakes before she finally succeeded! She didn't know, however, that you weren't supposed to put whipped cream on a hot pancake or it would melt instantly. The whipped-cream smile had withered, but the idea of a smile remained. Peter's sad mood lightened somewhat and May counted it as a triumph her eyes twinkling and the drying pancake mix on her cheeks cracking.

"Why doesn't your bear sit her next to you, Petey?"

Peter hesitated.

"Can he have some pancake, too?"

He asked quietly.

"Of course," May answered standing to make a pancake for both herself and the toy. Behind her, she could hear Peter stand and pull the chair out for the bear. He set the toy down and climbed back to his original spot. The cutlery clicked as he began to eat.

Peter shook the memory away and continued to eat mechanically through his cereal. The real Aunt May walked into the room and started making coffee. She turned around and frowned at the bear sitting at the table.

"No toys at the table, Peter." She said, crossing her arms.

He pulled the bear to the floor in embarrassment and hid it under his chair.

"I thought you were over that thing? In fact, I swore you threw it out."

Peter said nothing and poked at his cereal. He had thrown it out, years ago. But he dug it out of the trash the same day from guilt and tossed it under his bed. Peter, himself, was confused as to why he suddenly felt attached to it again.

May poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down in the vacant spot the bear had left. She sat, scrutinizing him and he wilted under her gaze but said nothing more. She finished her coffee and went back into her room, Peter watching her leave.

He stared back down into his bowl of now soggy cereal and sighed. His heart twisted and his stomach churned at the thought of how horrible the weekend could go now that he had no school. It would be just him and Aunt May for forty-eight hours.

The weekend however, was not as bad as he thought it would be, he barely ever saw May. She was either holed up in her room or went out to who knows where. All he knew was that when she came back, she reeked of alcohol. His enhanced senses allowing him to smell the stench from before she walked through the front door. At least, he thought, he had a warning of when she was coming. During those times, he would drop whatever he was doing, such as homework or eating, to run and lock himself in his room, fear overtaking him. He didn't want to be caught with a drunk May again.

On Sunday night, May had surprised him though, walking through the door earlier than she had on Friday and Saturday. Peter, shocked, instantly dropped his cup of water. The cup smashed onto the kitchen tiles and water splashed onto the legs of Peter's pajama pants. The loud crash attracting her attention like a terrifying monster when the victim stepped on a twig during the intense horror movie Peter had watched that evening. He hopped over the mess, his mind instantly switching into fight or flight mode, and sprinted into his room locking the door shut.

This is silly, his mind told him, he was a superhero, he could fight. But he immediately recoiled, this wasn't a bad guy! This was his aunt; she was his family! He could never fight May. She was all he had left. He would never hurt her. She pounded on the door and he gulped, stepping back and sitting on his bed to stare at the door.

"Let me in Peter! You have to pay for what you've done to this family, you worthless piece of shit! For not saving my husband! For letting him die! You deserve to be in his place! You mutant! You useless creature! How could you have let him die? Why weren't you there!?"

She screeched through the door, Peter could imagine her face turning red in fury. He covered his ears with his hands in an attempt to block out the words, but he could still hear everything. He stared and eventually, she had started crying and slid down the bedroom door. Still sobbing and pounded the door lightly with an aching fist. She wept and Peter did nothing. He simply sat on his bed covering his sensitive ears and watched the clock with anxious and worried eyes.

It was midnight when she finally stopped, simply sitting against front of the door in exhaustion. He heard her sniffle, stand, and thankfully, finally,walk away. He laid down on the bed and hugged his teddy bear, his only companion—the only one who cared, and crawled under the covers; burrowing into them like they would protect him. He fell asleep trying to convince himself that the alcohol was why May was so angry, not him. She didn't really hate him. Right? In the end, he didn't believe himself.


MONDAY

He woke up many times during the night, feeling antsy and restless. Every noise made him jump awake but he was so exhausted from stress that he fell asleep almost as soon as he determined there was no threat. By the time his alarm rang he felt as if he had gotten no sleep at all. The anxious feeling however, did not fade. He checked the behind the bedroom door as he got dressed, half expecting to find May waiting for him. But she wasn't there.

He prepared himself some unmarked cereal as he had all weekend and sat at the table facing the doorway, preparing himself. No threat ever came though and May seemed to still be sleeping. He wondered if he should bring her water for the hangover she would most definitely have, but decided against it for fear of awakening the beast inside her.

On his way out the door, he grabbed his house key, an unmarked granola bar for later, and a spare jacket. A sense of dread filled the pit of his stomach. He was forgetting something. Something very important. He began to sweat and breathing became more difficult. He was going to be alone. He was going to school and his fake friends would be there and he would be all alone! Alone. Alone. Alone! He felt cold and too hot at the same time. May hated him and he knew his 'friends' did too, and no one cared about him. He couldn't do this. What was he going to do? No one cared. No one. Except… someone did.

He rushed into his room and grabbed the stuffed animal off the unmade bed. His thoughts promptly calmed and he breathed deeply. He wasn't alone. His parents cared about him, his parents loved him, this bear was proof of that. He shoved the teddy bear deep into his backpack and covered it with the coat and a book then zipped up his companion. His new separation anxiety overruling his fear of it being discovered that he, a fifteen-year-old boy, carried a stuffed animal around.

He went to school with no further issues about the bear now that it was close to him at all times. At school however, it seemed like today was just not his day. He took a pop quiz which he felt he wasn't ready for and Ned was slightly annoyed with him for skipping out on the Lego/movie day they had planned Friday. But in his defense, avoiding May had been a top priority all weekend and it had slipped his mind.

Ned wasn't angry for long though and by the time lunch rolled around, he had already forgiven Peter, telling him that he was sure Peter had lots of Spider-man responsibilities he probably had to attend to. Peter simply agreed even though he hadn't been in the suit in days. He hoped nothing had happened while he was away and felt guilty that he had been neglecting his duties. He promised himself that he would go out soon—people needed him! But… did they really? He couldn't even save Uncle Ben… He pushed that thought away. Uncle Ben was the reason he was doing this in the first place.


Gym rolled around pretty quickly and Peter didn't break a sweat, no matter how hard he tried. Before the bite, gym had never been his strong suit. Now, however, he struggled to keep up the façade and look like nothing had changed.

He noticed Ned had a hard time in the class too, and attempted to copy what his friend was doing. If Ned breathed hard after running a mile around the squeaky gym floor, then Peter did too. If Ned could do only one and a half pull ups on the high bar, then Peter could only do two and a half. If Ned could only do ten crunches while Peter held down his legs, then by god, Peter could do fifteen.

Once gym was over, he had not even worked up a sweat, Ned however looked like he would keel over at any minute. Peter held his friend steady until he was breathing calmly again and together they walked back to the boy's locker room. The room was loud with teenage boys all showering and changing their clothes. Making lewd jokes to one and other. Peter and Ned ignored them and changed back into their school clothing after awkwardly showering as well. It was when Peter was tying his shoes when he heard it.

"Bro, did you watch the news on Friday?" exclaimed a boy putting on his shirt.

"Uh, no. No one watches the news except you, man." Answered Flash.

"My mom was watching it! Anyway, they were talking about the Avengers."

"What? Why?"
"Yeah. They were talking about how if you see a mutant, you're supposed to call it in and stuff. Like-."

Peter's hands froze and he stopped listening to the boy's conversation. He was back at home and May was yelling at him again. He could feel the rage come off her in waves and he couldn't breathe. His chest was heaving and he didn't know where he was. He fell backwards, his foot slipping off the bench and his back hitting the lockers behind him with a crash as he fell to the ground.

A hush fell over the locker room and everyone was watching him. He held his head in his hands and his heart felt like it was going a hundred miles an hour. His hands were sweaty and he felt much too hot in his sweater.

"Are you okay, Pete?" a question from his right.

He flinched away violently from the hand that had extended to help him up and almost fell over onto the concrete. Oh no. He was suffocating. The air was too hot and thick. There were too many people here. They were too close, much too close. He stood up and grabbed his backpack, then without a second thought, he bolted from the room.

"The bell hasn't rung yet, Penis!" an annoyed Flash called out to him.

Peter ignored him. The hallway air was much less stuffy but still not enough and he burst into the nearest bathroom. It smelled bad but it was empty, there was no one there but him. He pushed himself into the largest stall and sat on the ground and curled into a tight ball and pulled off his sweater. His body felt jittery and like he had to do a million things but he couldn't. He grabbed his backpack and opened it then unburied the toy. He was no longer alone; his parents were here now. This bear was a representation of their love for him. Somebody cared. The tears began. Terror-filled tears rolled down his cheeks. He sobbed into the bears stomach and rocked on the dirty bathroom floor soothingly. He was no longer alone, he repeated to himself. He was no longer alone.


Finally, he calmed down enough to stop and he could breath again. He sat on the ground with his back to the wall and hugged the bear. The feeling of it's rough fur on his skin was grounding. He suddenly wondered how much time had passed and why no one ever seemed used this bathroom as no one had yet to bother him. The door opened and he stayed still, afraid he'd jinxed it, and his solitary bathroom time would come to an end.

But it was just Ned.

"Peter?"

Peter said nothing. Ned pushed open the stall door and looked at him questioningly. Peter thought he probably looked like a mess. His sweater laid in a heap over his backpack and his button down was wrinkled, his hair was all messed up and curled with sweat, his face was tear-stained and he was holding a teddy bear.

But, Peter said nothing. Simply ignored him. Ned sat down across from him on the grimy tiles with his back to the stall wall, and he too, said nothing. The bell rang for fifth and sixth periods. Still, the pair sat in silence. When the bell rang for seventh period, Ned finally broke the silence.

"Are you okay?"

Peter thought it over. Was he okay? He wasn't panicking anymore, that had to mean something right?

"Yeah, I'm okay." He replied, looking past Ned at the wall.

"That's good. I was really worried when you ran out of gym like that."

Peter shrugged.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I think it was a panic attack." He said, dully. He was very tired.

"It looked like one."

Peter shrugged again, dismissing it. He yawned. He hadn't had much sleep last night, and the panic attack had only worsened his exhaustion. He leaned his head against the wall and was seriously considering the idea of sleeping while sitting up in a public restroom—when Ned poked his shoulder.

"Dude, you should go to the nurse and lay down. Tell her that you're sick or something. You look awful enough that she'll probably believe it."

Peter nodded his consent to this plan and Ned took the bear. Peter's eyes snapped open and he watched wearily as Ned put it back into his backpack. Ned, not even questioning why he had it, or why he brought it to school. Only concerned with not letting Peter make a complete fool of himself in front of the whole school. Ned might be a fake friend, Peter thought, but he was a damn good one. Together the two walked to the nurse's office once more.

They walked in and the nurse looked up from her computer. She stood up worriedly.

"What's going on, boys?"

Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly as Ned spoke up.

"Peter was throwing up in the bathroom." he lied.

The Nurse frowned in sympathy.

"You want to lay down, Sweetheart?" she asked him.

"Yes, please." Peter replied quietly and Ned pulled him by the arm to lay down on the recovery couch. Ned set his and Peter's things down on the ground and pulled up a nearby chair to sit between his friend and the nurse.

Peter rolled onto his side to face them and pillowed his head with his arm before falling fast asleep under the watchful, protective eyes of the school nurse and his best friend.