Featured song: The World Calling – There For Tomorrow / Heavy Heart – Gabrielle Aplin
I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie and additional deleted scenes, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise!
Reminder: I have never studied psychiatry or any behavioural therapy studies. I do research and use my personal experiences for certain scenes so I hope they read well.
(Please note that I have been very ill over the past few months, with numerous hospital visits, so apologies my loves I know you've been waiting patiently.)
Hayley shifted about awkwardly on the grey couch looking anywhere but at the woman seated directly in front of her. It had been a long time since she had been in the hot seat like this and the redhead did not like it one bit. Beside her was Harry who looked as equally uncomfortable, body rigid with a standoffish air similar to her own. It was a miracle that they were in the same room let alone sitting next to one another.
The doorbell had rung through the silent manor like that of church bell, piercing and out of place for the early hour. Before she even knew what was happening, Harry had entered her room, grabbed her arm, and grumbled something that sounded like "Uples eraphy." He had then hastily led her out into the living area, her body too tired to resist and argue about his rough handedness yet again. So Hayley had let him pull her like a doll, and that was how she had ended up in couple's therapy this drizzly autumn morning.
The air was thick with an emotion, a feeling that she could not pinpoint. All she knew was that it made her want to run for the hills.
Harry coughed awkwardly breaking the silence, and she glanced over to him, getting a proper look for the first time in days. His neck was extremely red with irritation whilst the green patches that mottled his skin were as strong and prominent as ever. Those usually sharp, icy blue eyes were now tired with dark bags beneath them. The everyday neat, billionaire ensemble was replaced with an outfit that appeared like he had tried to make an effort for this meeting but failed half way through. A black, silk tie hung slack around his neck like a rejected noose and his dress shirt rumpled and unbuttoned. Even in his less than polished state at least he was semi presentable. Hayley however, was the personification of scruffy in her comfy jeans and ratty t-shirt. If she had known about this appointment ahead of time then her clothes would have been vastly different. It was embarrassing to sit across from another psychiatrist appearing every bit her young age and not an equal.
There was another cough from the young billionaire as he shakily brought the mug that was cradled in his hands up to his lips. Just because the carefully masked liquid was no longer in its original bottle, it didn't mean that she could not smell the distinct strong aroma of Bourbon. It was sadly pathetic how far and quickly Harry had fallen from sanity, and the redhead began to feel guilty at her choice of ignoring him for so long.
Why have I let this happen to him?
"As much as I enjoy sitting in silence, I am getting paid by the hour," spoke Emily Baker at last, her tongue clicking at the end of the sentence like she was chastising naughty children. "Shall we begin the session?" she asked, pointedly staring at the Osborn boy.
Hayley also stared expectantly at the man beside her, before rolling her eyes when he took yet another sip of alcohol. "Um, can I ask why you are here, Doctor Baker?" she questioned honestly.
The older psychiatrist shifted her gaze to the redhead, her eyebrow quirking curiously, "Am I correct in assuming that you are not aware of the purpose of this meeting?"
"I was not aware there even was a meeting until ten minutes ago."
"Mr Osborn, would you like to explain why you called for my services?" the psychiatrist glowered at the young man.
Harry drained the remainder of his alcohol, needing the liquid courage. "Erm, we are in couples therapy, Hayley," he muttered pompously, brushing the limp hair from his eyes, "I think that is rather obvious."
"Couples therapy? You are joking, right?"
"No Hayley, I am not joking," Harry confirmed with a dejected sigh, placing his empty mug on the coffee table before them.
"You are such a hypocrite Harry Osborn! You're happy to talk and participate in her therapy sessions but not my own?"
"How else are we going to have a decent conversation?" he snapped back.
"How are we meant to discuss our many, many issues when…" Hayley stopped and swallowed before inching closer to the source of her animosity, hissing into his ear, "when she doesn't know about certain things."
"You needn't worry Miss Carmichael," Baker interjected, noting the girl's desire to protect Mr Osborn's secrets regardless of their current relationship problems. "I have signed a binding contract not to discuss or reveal anything incriminating that may come up in these sessions. Besides, I would prefer not to be on the Goblin's hit list, so all your secrets are safe with me."
Hayley reeled at the psychiatrist referring to Harry's alter ego like he was present in the room, because, of course, he was indeed. "How much does she know?"
"Everything," he confessed putting his face in his hands – it was way too early for this type of drama. His head was already pounding and the alcohol hadn't offered the little respite he hoped it would.
"Everything?" she enquired suspiciously, for there was always a catch with the crafty Goblin. "Are you sure? Does she know about the OsCorp box that is stashed under your bed?"
"Do we really have to discuss that now?"
"When else are we going to have a decent conversation about it?" the redhead retorted using Harry's own words against him. She knew this would most likely antagonise him further but what choice did she have other than to pick apart his actions with a fine-toothed comb.
Nothing was ever what it seemed, a factor she had learnt from experience.
"This, this is couples therapy, Hayley," Harry reasoned despairingly, his thumbs rubbing at his temples soothingly," not a tell-all campfire story about our personal secrets."
"Fine. Are there any areas that we are not allowed to discuss?"
Almost predictably, Harry's hand darted into his jeans pocket. He plucked free a crumpled, folded piece of paper, the expensive kind that had a letterhead and printed signature. When he placed it in her expectant hand, a wide smirk decorated his face. The smug bastard's eyes twinkled green as she opened the paper. It revealed a neatly written list of non-negotiable topics that they weren't to discuss in therapy.
God, I hate it when I'm right, Hayley thought sourly, her eyes glowering upon seeing Harry's own drink in her silent and broody demeanour.
The list read as follows:
You will NOT discuss these topics:
My time and our relationship inside of Ravencroft
Your personal connections with Ravencroft and its staff
My involvement in the deaths of your co-workers, Kinsey, and Kuzmin
You will keep their deaths and their effect on you as minimal as possible
Do not mention the box under OUR bed
Fiers, Kraven, and Sytsevich are not be mentioned
We may discuss Peter Parker and Spider-Man IF necessary but do NOT reveal his identity
Pumpkins
Hayley reread the list five times before she really took in the second to last line; did Harry actually want to protect Peter? It was an interesting development that caused the redhead to smile involuntarily. She folded up paper before handing it back to Harry, giving him in small nod to show that she understood his terms. Their fingers touched and eyes met. The moment was a millisecond but enough for them both to feel those long dormant butterflies start to flutter in their stomachs once more.
Maybe couples therapy was a good thing? Hayley pondered.
"So, shall we begin?" a very impatient Emily Baker asked, her presence almost forgotten, "Mr Osborn, how about you start by expressing some concerns or feelings you have about the current state of your relationship with Miss Carmichael."
Hayley inwardly cursed the older psychiatrist. Of course she would empower him further by presenting him as the victim who reached out for help. It was her only angle at this point to force a dysfunctional dialogue between the two of them. How else would the psychiatrist assess and discover their various issues? Especially since this was not a textbook, black and white case. There were many, many, many grey areas to their relationship. The Green Goblin and his fiery girlfriend had countless delectable secrets. Any psychiatrist would jump at the chance to take on such a high profile and vastly unusual case. Who wouldn't be intrigued by its uniqueness? Anyway, wasn't that the very reason why Hayley herself had agreed upon treating the Goblin? She had readily accepted the position blind to all the risks and dangers his treatment at Ravencroft could entail.
"She ignores me and is completely unappreciative of everything I do for her, everything I give her – "
"That is not true and you know – "
"Miss Carmichael," Baker interrupted sternly, "I think you of all people would know not to stop a patient mid sentence. Please, Mr Osborn, continue."
Closing her eyes and mentally counting to ten, Hayley tried to remain claim, all the while bitterly thinking ill of Baker: That's right, make me appear as unprofessional as possible so he will trust your guidance and advice over mine, lecherous bitch.
"I have given her so much. Given her a job, a place to live, a bed to sleep in, everything within my power and money to give her she can have, but now I'm starting to think she doesn't care about me at all," Harry revealed, his voice distant and heavy, though she couldn't tell if that as from emotion or the alcohol.
"I don't want your money Harry. You're trying to buy off my love, fill the gaps in your insecurities by gift giving. All I ever wanted was you. Not your money."
There was a small pause whilst the couple stared at each other indignantly, neither one wanting to accept what the other was saying.
"Might I remind you Miss Carmichael that you are the patient in this instance. So, please leave all the psychoanalysis to me," Baker instructed irritably with a not so kind smile. "Have you considered that the only way Mr Osborn can currently express his love is to buy you gifts? That maybe he does this because he knows no other way?"
"Yes, but – "
"And that by rejecting his presents, you are in fact rejecting his love?"
"I do not reject him!"
"Could have fooled me, Ginge."
"I haven't!" Hayley beseeched them both despairingly, trying to rake her brain for any small thing that could have been misinterpreted as an action of rejection. Small tears started to form in her eyes as she questioned herself quietly, "I haven't…have I?"
"Mr Osborn, are you able to recall a particular instance where you felt Miss Carmichael spurned your love?" the psychiatrist asked, her critical mind greedily anticipating his answer. "Please explain how you felt in that moment"
It was as if she were a witch on trial at Salem. Whichever evidence Hayley gave, whatever opinion or feeling she spoke of, it was all being thrown back in her face.
"Do you have any idea the lengths it took to reacquire that emerald necklace?"
"Yes, you kill – "
Harry patted his pocket where the list containing strictly confidential topics now rested. The action effectively silenced her retort of Kuzmin's death. Instead, the Goblin continued, "It required a lot of time and skill to locate the necklace you so carelessly lost – "
"It was stolen not lost – "
"The elation I felt once I plucked it from the dirty place it had appeared in, was nothing short of marvellous and miraculous. Instead of thanking me, you argued relentlessly over how I got them back. No appreciation was uttered, only hostility. If I remember correctly you barely had them on for five minutes. Oh yes, and throwing a pill bottle at me was how that conversation ended. Utterly ungrateful Ginge."
The redhead could feel rage boiling inside of her as the Goblin spun out lie after lie after lie. All she could do was listen and seethe quietly. Hayley wanted nothing more than to explode and argue back, add fuel to the ever-growing fire. The increasing in tension was causing them to grow further and further apart as each day passed, and all she could do was stay silent. Besides, if Doctor Baker were the top psychiatrist she claimed to be, then surely she would see through his pointless lies? Anyone who watched the news recently would be aware that the necklace had been stolen.
All his words continued to lick deceitfully at her ears; their false meaning ignored until his voice suddenly lost its hardness.
"I give you everything that I am, everything that I have, but it is never enough. Never." His hands shifted about animatedly, expressing not only his anger but also his intense pain and insecurities. "It's as if she's in love with someone else. I'm just some insignificant fly, unworthy of her attention. How can I compete when she's caught in another man's web?"
The spider symbolism was not lost on her, and Hayley could do nothing more than to gape astounded at his confession, "Is…is that really what you think? What you really feel?"
"Yes!" Harry replied exasperatedly as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."
The psychiatrist looked at the bickering pair. A spark of intrigue was evident in her eyes as the secrets and emotions tumbled out of their mouths. "Miss Carmichael, your thoughts?" she questioned placidly, all hint of excitement void from her voice and composed demeanour.
Hayley was beginning to feel ashamed of herself and her actions. Taking his ill hand in hers, she implored him, "I had no idea that's how you felt. I'm so sorry. You're not a fly. If anything…I'm the fly. I told you I would never leave you, and I truly meant that. I still mean it." She rubbed her fingers comfortingly across his hand even though it was evident that her touch irritated him. "I have never left your web…I wouldn't know how…I couldn't."
Harry's hand was limp in her hold. He started to release himself from it before changing his mind and crushing her delicate fingers, "Without you, Ginge, without you I have no purpose…I have nothing," he growled quietly. His green eyes locked onto hers, almost daring her to alert the psychiatrist of the discomfort he was causing.
Surprisingly the redhead kept her expression blank even though the Goblin was a squeeze away from breaking more of her fingers. The only evidence that she was in excruciating pain was the slight clench in her jaw and narrowing of her eyes.
The Goblin glanced over to Doctor Baker, pleased to find her attention on the notebook in her lap. Pulling Hayley towards him, he hissed menacingly in her ear, "Without me, you, you are nothing! Nothing! I made you, Ginge, don't you forget that."
His words stung and she accepted them. Not because they were threatening, but because they were true. Every syllable, every vowel, every consonant, every single word sliced into her heart like razorblades.
"All I want is for you to notice me, to love me again. Without you, Hayley, I am nothing," Harry repeatedly murmured before pressing his lips chastely on her cheek. Then he shifted away, releasing her hand just in time for the psychiatrist to glance up from her scribbling, missing their little moment completely.
"Our time is up, but I think we have made good progress today," Doctor Baker proclaimed confidently. "Between now and our next session I would like you both to make special time for each other, whether it be a date or another type of engagement. Same time next week Mr Osborn?" When he nodded in response, she gathered her belongings and sauntered over to the exit, "I shall see myself out."
That night marked a change for the better in their relationship. Although she had started the night off in the adjoining room, she had ended up asleep at Harry's side.
Hayley's eyes flew open, her already uncomfortable slumber disturbed by painful howling. The familiar noise filled the apartment like it had done many, many times previously, its harrowing nature ringing in her ears. The girl's resolve was in pieces after their therapy session and the strength she once had to ignore Harry's nightly terrors had completely dissolved. Every time she replayed his words, another crack shattered her heart. He was an insecure, confused, lost boy who needed her. Because that was what he had always proclaimed without any doubt…the fact that he needed her.
The screaming was getting louder and more soul destroying to listen to. This only furthered the notion that he did indeed need her in many different ways. As a friend, a lover, a confidant, and a caregiver, though he would never admit it. His pained night terror, this one sounding far worse than any she had heard before, was enough for Hayley to forget all his transgressions. In an instant she overlooked that even though he was indeed a lost boy, he was also a villainous man.
Jumping to her feet she quickly padded from her room through the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. Like usual, Harry was thrashing about in bed, curling and unfurling fitfully in the fetal position. Stiff and clenched fingers were digging into his temples and forehead in agony. His actions reminded her of the security footage she had once watched of Harry administering the spider venom into his arm at OsCorp. The way his body shook violently was reminiscent of his initial Goblin transformation, the Retroviral Hypodysplasia symptoms accelerated. Hayley often pondered that maybe the trauma and memory of his metamorphosis was the root of his night terrors. Even though they frightened her at times, she was done standing idol. She was still angry but being a spectator to his pain was no longer acceptable.
"Baby steps, Hayley," she whispered to herself as she crawled onto the bed to kneel beside him.
The terror continued despite her sudden presence, though she was certain that Harry was aware of her. Their eyes had locked for only a few seconds but it was enough. Carefully, Hayley inched closer to him until they were mere centimetres from touching. Her cautious hand reached for his flexed, shaking one, fully prepared for him to slap her away like he had done many times previously. But instead he surprised her by accepting her touch, his body almost instantly stilled and settled. All that was left was jittering muscle spasms and his constant trembling hands.
Hayley shifted her position so that their bodies lay parallel, eyes transfixed on the one another. Words were not necessary because they both understood that regardless of the many issues in their dysfunctional relationship, they needed each other in this moment. They fell into a peaceful sleep with the redhead stroking Harry's hair soothingly.
A little while later, when the clock struck midnight, a pair of mischievous, green eyes gleamed in the darkness. The arms of the Goblin tightened their grip on Hayley's tiny waist, his body some how having spooned hers during the hours after she had joined him. Her soft, sleepy sighs were like music to his ears. So much so, that he felt compelled to utter his own silly tune.
"Incy Wincy Spider climbed up the clock tower spire, down came the Goblin and wiped his girlfriend out. Out came the fire sparked from the redhead's pain, and Incy Wincy Peter never walked again…" he sang quietly, all the while grinning from ear to ear
The clear, starry sky was visible though the giant crater he had created in the familiar building's ceiling. And although the night air was cool, the heat of a growing, monstrous fire caused the temperature to soar to burning heights.
Around him lay smashed bricks and dusty smoke, as well as discarded fragments of orange, exploded pumpkin bombs contributing to the destruction littered area. Chaos ensued behind where he floated, with Kraven and the Rhino engaged in combat; however, his focus was on the one man in front of him
"It should really come as no surprise," the Green Goblin chuckled atop his hovering glider, "as soon as you crossed me, you were destined to die by my hand."
He had a burly, bald man pinned against a stark, white wall. Blood covered the man's face and was barely recognisable from all the swelling. Even a few front teeth were missing having been knocked out during the struggle. The battle scar across his lip now hung open, the flesh torn and bleeding. His head was split with bruises covering his body, many resembling that of boot footprints. Tattoos that were once noticeable blended in with the purple bruising.
The spikes of the Goblin's glider were millimetres from his victim's jugular. One wrong move from either of them and the man would be dead. Not that it mattered much to the Goblin because death was imminent.
"Rich brat! When Hayley finds ou' 'bout what you 'ave done, she'll – "
The Goblin cackled hysterically, momentarily interrupting the man's empty threat.
"She'll leave ya!" he continued bravely.
"Oh, I highly doubt that," the Goblin grinned manically, "she barely batted an eyelid when I killed those nurses and that criminal, so she won't miss you." His eyes gleamed and widened in glee at the man's nervous swallowing. "You see, Ginge isn't entirely innocent as she would have you believe! This," he proclaimed, raising his armoured arms upwards, "this is all for her."
"You 're insane!"
"Insane?" he pondered letting the word roll on his tongue. "Insane is such a strong word. I prefer devilishly wicked."
"Goblin," came the authoritative voice of Kraven the hunter, "time to end this."
"Aw," the Goblin pouted, glancing over his shoulder at his mentor, "but it's so much fun! We are having fun, right?" His victim did not answer but he barely cared enough to torture him further. "Any sign of Spider-Man?"
A monstrous crash resonated behind them making Kraven roll his eyes despairingly, "Not yet. I fear Rhino's destruction shall quickly alert the spider to our location."
The Goblin nodded in agreement, understanding the man's urgency to have the job completed. "Are the other's dead? Their bodies in place?"
"Of course."
"And the pumpkins?"
"All is as you wish Goblin."
"Good," he grinned, before turning back to his victim. "How does it feel knowing that Spider-Man cannot save you? That no one cares if you live or die? I care. I care that you die. You and your buddies may have had your fun with me, but now it's my turn."
Sirens wailed in the distance alerting the three criminals that New York's finest cops were rapidly drawing closer. Their presence also meant the possibility of Spider-Man showing his masked face.
"We must leave. A true hunter's identity must be kept hidden from those who wish to end the hunt."
The Goblin nodded and crouched lower on his glider, his face level with his victim'. "You all have to die," explained Harry, his change of voice causing confusion to flash on the man's terrified face. "When you're all dead, then she'll have no one else. No one. Only me."
"Ya can't force 'er to love you," the man spat, droplets of blood mixed with saliva dribbled down his chin. "She will 'ever love a monster like you."
"I don't need to force her…because she already does love me," finished the Goblin, purring victoriously.
Pressing a button on the glider controls on his right arm, the thrusters engaged with a roar. The last thing Colin saw before his head fell cleanly from his body was the evil, manic grin of a green madman.
Hayley was feeling anxious as she yet again sat uncomfortably beside Harry in their second therapy session.
This morning's news had reported of a fire breaking out in Ravencroft. Several prison guards and orderlies had died in the tragic incident, with the police treating the accident as suspicious. The institute's security footage had gone missing, hinting that the crime had possibly been a premeditated, inside job. Either that or an external perpetrator had knowledge of the facility and its layout. There was also much suspicion and speculation about the ten staff member's cause of death. Surely a small, localised fire could not have taken so many lives?
There was no doubt in her mind that the calm and collected man sitting on the couch with her was guilty. Although, he most likely had help since the job was obviously complex and not the work of an individual. This led Hayley to the assumption that Kraven was mostly likely involved. Come to think of it, she had a vague memory of Harry taking a shower around three in the morning. The sound of water had woken her, along with a strange smell that reminded her of a bonfire…
"How was this past week been for you both," Doctor Baker asked, breaking Hayley from her thoughts. When neither of her patients replied, the psychiatrist pressed on, "Did you complete the homework I set you?"
The redhead blanched. Damn, forgot about the homework, she thought miserably, it's like being back at school!
Harry seemed too busy with his suspicious mug of coffee so Hayley piped up reluctantly, "Does sleeping in the same bed count?"
The psychiatrist appraised the girl over her glasses, "It's not exactly what I had in mind but that is progress at least. I would have preferred you both to spend time together in a setting where you are awake. And, where you could talk. A date would – "
"We have a date planned for next week."
Hayley glanced over to Harry in surprise, her reaction almost foiling the validity of his statement. Not that she could or would ever take him seriously when he was tipsy. As it was, he had finished his mug of disguised alcohol and was now twirling an OsCorp pen between his fingers distractedly. The liquor had clearly taken effect since his posture and attitude was somewhat relaxed in comparison to the usual tension that filled his body as of late. Harry even had a hint of a crafty smile on his face!
"Mr Osborn, would you care to elaborate?"
"The Osborn and Fisk foundation is hosting a Halloween ball next week to raise money for the charity," he replied plainly, reaching out to hold the redhead's hand with grin. "Hayley and I will be attending together of course. Right, doll?"
It only took a beat for her to catch onto his game – he didn't want to incur Doctor Baker's wrath either. Whether this proposed date was a blatant lie or entirely truthful remained to be seen.
"Right," Hayley agreed with a winning smile to match his own, glancing over at the billionaire lovingly to seal the deal.
Although she was acting, her heart had started to thump as soon as Harry's fingers entwined with hers. She realised that he was careful in his actions and not overly possessive for a change. However, as soon the psychiatrist looked down at her notebook, he removed his hand from hers.
Emily Baker was not convinced with their little charade, so she tried a different tactic. "Mr Osborn, I'd like to remind you that the consumption of alcohol during these sessions is prohibited," she chimed in with a satisfied smile when Harry's body stiffened, the look of guilt on his face as potent as the liquor. "Is there any reason why you feel the need to be intoxicated?"
"It's a coping mechanism," Hayley interjected bluntly. "There isn't a day that goes by where he doesn't have a drink. I think he's dependant on it." Though it may have appeared to an outsider that her comments were cruel and unnecessary, she was genuinely concerned about his unhealthy habit.
Obviously Harry couldn't detect her caring undertones. "Let's discuss your coping vices shall we?" he retorted hotly. "What about all the medication you stole from Ravencroft, huh? I think you should tell the Doctor how you abuse prescription drugs!"
"Harry, please, that's enough!" Hayley hissed hurriedly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable – if he didn't shut up she could loose her medical license. "Can we not bring that up – "
"Is this true Miss Carmichael?"
"No…I mean, I did take medication assigned from my consultant, but I don't take them anymore." She hoped and prayed that she had saved a situation that could destroy her career. "You," Hayley glared back at the source of her anger, "took them away from me, remember?"
Baker's eyes narrowed crossly at Harry, "Stopping one's medication abruptly can cause issues, Mr Osborn, and it is not something I would recommend. Have you been experiencing any withdrawal symptoms Hayley? Any nausea? Headaches, malaise, dream and sleep disturbances? What about restlessness, irritability – "
"That's the word to describe her! Irritable!"
Tears filled her eyes as the redhead had finally had enough of the constant badgering and attacks on her person that seemed to be the only thing she got from attending the sessions. "I'm sorry that I'm not perfect, Harry! You always said that you don't do complicated, but look at me! I'm as complicated as they get! Why are you even with me? You're clearly not happy anymore. Leave me if that's what you want, because that's what it sounds like!"
Harry stopped, the numb cloud provided by the alcohol disappearing with every single tear she shed. "Hayley," he said softly, trying to take her hand but she quickly shifted away from him, "you don't have to be perfect. I really do lov…look, I get that because you were burnt by your pyromaniac parents – "
"Don't you dare say that! You know nothing of my family! Of what happened to me!"
"Then, why don't you share? Seems only fair that I should know more about my pyromaniac girlfriend – "
"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Hayley screamed, hands clasped protectively over her ears. "I am leaving. I can't deal with this anymore." Getting to her feet she raced from the room, leaving the Manor entirely in her upset.
Emily Baker shook her head in despair and began taking notes describing the girl's unstable outburst.
"Well Doc," the Goblin said full of curiosity, "wasn't that little explosion rather telling?"
Hayley hated their couples counselling with a burning passion. The worst aspect of it was that she could tell Doctor Baker enjoyed the role reversal of power. However, she continued to go to them regardless because she could tell they were helping Harry.
Their relationship was no longer in tatters because now he had a safe place to identify, discuss, and address his issues instead of letting the anger boil up inside. Though it didn't stop the sessions beginning and ending with arguments.
Harry's Retroviral Hypodysplasia had calmed down significantly, his green hue no longer prominent and over powering. Other than the sore on his neck, all his other wounds were either healed or under control, thanks to the diligent care of Doctor Aldington. Even Hayley had to admit that the doctor was doing a much better job taking of Harry than she ever had. She tried not to let that fact get to her, telling herself that the doctor had years of previous experience with the disease since he had treated Norman Osborn. However, the feelings of self-loathing and failure continued to edge their way into Hayley's mind.
Doctor Aldington had cleared Harry to return to work now that his goblin-like appearance had subsided. That meant they now had to suffer the long morning car journey through the Manhattan traffic. It was the only time they were in close contact with one another, except for therapy and the occasional nights Hayley slept beside him. Their journey consisted of either total, icy silence or the soundtrack of Harry aggressively shouting down his cell phone. These stressful situations only heightened the redhead's anxiety.
Shifting about nervously in the crowed elevator, Hayley tried to remain calm as she ascended. It took awhile to get to the top of the elevator shaft due to various OsCorp employees milling in and out, but by the time she reached its end, she was alone. Only Harry's office graced the top floor. It had been some time since she had been up there, the last being when the billionaire had argued with and tried to kill Donald Menken. She actually felt quite awkward about her visit because she was seeking out Felicia, not Harry.
"Hey Fe," she called out softly as she tentatively entered the luxurious office, choosing to stay standing by the glass doors.
She was surprised to find her friend also standing by the room's entrance, her back against the marbled wall, usual clipboard in hand. Hayley noted that there was a lot of tension in the brunette's body and that her hair less perfected and polished. There came a loud, repetitive, thumping noise, which caused Felicia to twitch in response, though she sighed deeply with irritation like she was used to what was happening. It was then that Hayley observed the rest of the office.
Harry, who was smartly dressed, was near his glass desk, throwing a black, bouncy ball against the thick, glass, window like walls. The little performance was fuelled with aggression and stress. The ball whacked its intended target with such ferocity but also with an unexpected air of grace. His overarm technique was flawless, the ball returning to his hand every time. The movements of his arm and hand were extremely fluid considering how much the Retroviral Hypodysplasia caused them to shake. Hayley was momentarily caught off guard at the way his strong body exuded power and control over such a silly game. It stirred something deep inside her, and her mind couldn't help but recall the way his wanting hands gripped her body when he roared with ecstasy…
"Oh, hey Hayley," Felicia replied offhandedly, barely glancing at the redhead as she kept her eyes fixed on her clipboard and Filofax. Every so often her brown eyes took a quick peek at her boss, his recent change in behaviour had her deeply worried.
Hayley ignored the brunette's unenthusiastic greeting, knowing that she probably had a million things on her mind. "Did Karen text you about the OsCorp Halloween ball? It's cool that us girls should dress as a group since Manners is bringing her, but I'm not really comfortable with – "
SMASH!
"Fuck!" Harry yelled in frustration as a particularly violent throw caused the rubber ball to nick a vase on his desk. The object fell to the ground in a thousand pieces, the ball rolling away in insolence. He kicked the broken shards before stalking away, "ARGH! Hold my calls, Felicia! NO one disturbs me!"
The two women flinched at his venomous order and watched him stalk away to the balcony area.
Harry's OsCorp office was so elaborate what with its mini bar, sofas, interactive desk, and marble decorative scheme, that Hayley always discovered something new every time she dropped by. It was only recently that she had realised there even was a balcony. It was discreetly positioned in the far left corner away from the communal area. There was yet another glass door, which blended in with the clear, glass walls, hence why Hayley had never noticed it before. Through the door was a small, steel balcony that was in keeping with the hexagonal outer architecture. The platform consisted of five hexagons, slotted together like honeycomb, with a similar structure making up the railing. Each hexagon was filled with thick, robust steel and glass to prevent any accidents. The balcony was safe, but Hayley had yet to venture out onto it.
"That's the second vase," Felicia commented with a sigh. Her boss did seem to insist on throwing that ball around the office whenever he was stressed.
"I gather he's in a bad mood?"
"When is he ever not," replied the brunette with a sad smile. She moved forward to collect the scattered pieces of the broken vase, which was worth more than her apartment. "He had a meeting with Manners this morning, and he's been in a fouler mood since."
"What was it about?" Hayley followed suit and helped her friend to gather the pieces of china. It was clear that Harry's habit of smashing objects was not restricted exclusively to the Osborn Manor.
"I cannot be certain, but…I overheard them discussing Fisk and the charity ball," Felicia whispered, her brown, doe eyes shifting from Harry on the balcony, to the vase, and the redhead.
"Yeah, about our costume choice for the ball – "
"FUCK!" exclaimed Harry, smacked his hand on the balcony rail, causing both girls to jump at the sudden noise. He then proceeded to run his trembling hands over his face and through his hair agitatedly.
The two women shared a concerned glance.
"Maybe you should go talk to him Hayley."
"I, er, I don't think…I mean, we aren't really speaking at – "
"I know he wants you too," Felicia encouraged gently. "Besides, I'm pretty capable of cleaning this mess up myself. I've had a lot of practise."
Hayley sighed, "So have I."
Reluctantly getting to her feet, she slowly left the safety of her friend and stumbled over to the dangers lurking on the balcony. The handle of the glass doors was cool in her hands, and it took a few attempts on her part to pull it open and step outside. Harry stood stock still, glaring at the metropolitan world below. His whole body was held with rage and agitation, and his fingers rapped on the metal railing intensely. Even in his perturbed state, the power that oozed from him was like that of Zeus passing judgement on mortals from atop Mount Olympus – truly terrifying.
"Topping yourself is not going to solve anything," the redhead commented darkly. She folded her arms, resting them and her chin on the silver rail before her, Harry a few paces on her right.
"What are you wittering about?" Harry snapped unkindly. He paused to rub his forehead before continuing, "I don't have time for your pointless commentary Hayley. You're only adding to my headache. What are you even doing up here?"
Hayley shrugged and replied plainly, "It's my lunch break so I came to see Felicia."
"Ah, still avoiding me I see," Harry smiled gloomily, disappointment evident in his voice.
"Harry, we live under the same roof and work in the same building – "
"And yet we are still distant."
Glancing around to make sure no one was around, namely Felicia, Hayley hissed "You killed more people, remember?"
"Oh, I do remember," the Goblin chuckled, his previous forlorn face changing into that of immense satisfaction. A wicked grin appeared as he replayed in his mind the torture he had inflicted on the prison guard Colin. "It was necessary!"
"Necessary? Necessary! Eating is necessary, killing is not!"
Harry chuckled at the girl's fiery face, "Funny that the girl who barely eats thinks of food as a necessity."
"Says the man who wastes pumpkins for some sort of murder calling card."
"Have you even eaten today?" he asked unkindly, the question seemingly an antagonising dig rather than out of worry. Though deep down, Harry was very concerned for her health.
"Thanks for the pumpkin pie by the way," she commented icily, ignoring his question entirely, "I'm surprised you had enough to spare after carving so many."
"I'm betting you threw it away? Such a waste Hayley."
"Argh! Stop turning this on me! You are the one killing people! I have done nothing wrong! You have! I am not the bad guy here. I just don't understand – "
"You may not understand now, but you will."
"I very much doubt that."
Harry's cell phone started to buzz, and it didn't take long for him to begin shouting orders down the receiver at some poor employee. The wind whistled around them, carrying his barks and Hayley's ginger ponytail swirling around in the breeze. The Manhattan skyline was still beautiful to her regardless of her flying theatrics with Spider-Man, though it had lost the breath taking awe it once held. Its architecture differed from where she used to live in England but the overall feeling was the same; small and insignificant. Different country, same emotion. Except…that was wrong. There were times when she didn't feel that way. Four people made her feel important; one was dead, one she was forbidden to see, one was in the other room fretting over a vase, and the other was Harry.
The redhead closed her eyes and felt the breeze drifting across her skin and through her hair. From now on, I will try harder, I will make more of an effort, she thought determinedly. I made it this far, I'm on the balcony, so I should take a leap of faith…
"Useless!"Harry snarled down the phone before ending the call. He shoved it back into the depths of his designer, charcoal trouser pockets, his fingers reaching for a little respite from the morning stress.
You just have to be brave Hayley. One small act of kindness, of affection, will ease the tension…just…jump…
A familiar smell whirled its way into her nostrils, the aroma jarring and cruel. Painful images flashed into her mind and before her eyes. She was back in that dark, cramped place, screams surrounding her, the cancerous stench trapping her in the past she tried so hard to escape from…
Opening her eyes, Hayley wildly spun towards Harry and grabbed the freshly lit cigarillo perched between his lips. She sneered in disgust as she cast it to the ground and stamped on it aggressively. Relief began to wash over her at seeing the end no longer burning bright. It was then that the redhead noticed her breathing was shallow and erratic, heart thumping violently.
Crisis averted…crisis averted…
She was about to give the young billionaire a piece of her mind when her blood ran cold. In his hand was a full pack of premium, imported cigarillos, each dormant one mocking her with the promising smell of burning nicotine. It only took a beat of a pause before she reached out for the offensive item.
"Hayley, what the f – "
The pack of cigarillos was out of his hand and flying over the railing to the streets below before he even knew what had happened. Harry stared at her in shock. Her face was paler than usual, eyes hollow and void of any real emotion. That was a look he had seen many times, though not as vivid as it was in this instant. However, it was her body, coiled tight like a spring, ready to strike like a caged animal, which really had him mystified. He was certain that her sudden pettiness ran far deeper than preventing him from smoking.
"Hayley," he said sternly with complete seriousness, "I am going to reach into my pocket, and lit my last cigar – "
"No…no you are not!" the redhead shrieked hysterically, shaking her head from side to side.
Harry made his movements very slow, inching his hand back into his pocket, "Now, I'm going to look past the fact that you just threw away imported Cubans. They cost more than you could make in a month!" There was a clench in his jaw, and his eye twitched as Harry tried to hold the Goblin's anger at bay. As he brought out his last fag, her green eyes watched it like a hawk. "If," he paused seriously, "if you take this from me, I will not be able to hold him back. Do you understand, Hayley?"
She nodded in response though she could barely comprehend what he actually said. All she could hear was the rapid beating of her heart, loud and erratic, insistent like a heavy metal drummer. Every single muscle in her body was shaking; it wasn't just Harry who was trying to hold something back. It was taking every ounce of herself to prevent any further reaction from her body. Sweat dotted her forehead and the phantom screams of a child were ringing in her ears.
Inch by inch she watched him bring the lighter closer and closer to his puckered lips.
It'll be ok, it'll be ok, Hayley repeated continuously. Her mind's voice was desperately trying to drown out the screaming that was steadily intensifying.
Second by second she held herself at bay as he brought the lighter upward, its destination ready and expectant. Her mouth dried with the anticipation of the cap opening, and her heart almost stopped as her worst fears started to come true before her very eyes.
Harry had planned on keeping his eyes focused solely on her but at the last minute he glanced down as he flipped open the cap, releasing the naked flame. And that's when it happened.
"STOP!"
In the blink of an eye the boiling flame before him was seemingly extinguished. In shock, the last cigarillo fell from his lips to the ground. His eyes widened in horror as Hayley's pale, delicate hand gripped the lighter, her palm being licked by the fire. Small curls of amber danced on the flesh between her fingers, the burning smell becoming stronger as the seconds ticked by.
"Hayley! Let go! You idiot, your hand!" Harry yelled urgently, but his pleas were met with silence.
The eyes of his girl were completely dead.
Forcefully he grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from the lighter before chucking it over the balcony. "Why did you do that? How did you…Hayley?" he asked, all initial anger morphing into distress.
As he carefully inspected the small burn wound on her palm, Hayley stood motionless. The screaming in her head had stopped as soon as she touched the flame, as soon as the cigarillo was no longer in danger of becoming ignited. Nothing around her seemed real, and even though it was a sunny day, everything to her was dark. The world had lost its vibrancy. It was as if a vignette had coated her vision, the darkness slowly creeping in. She barely registered that she was now sitting on one of the office sofas until her hand became cool and wet. Glancing down she saw her hand was submerged in a shallow, glass bowl of water and ice.
Felicia and Harry were talking to her, or at her, she wasn't really sure which, for the sound was muffled. The only thing she really heard was her name over and over again.
"Hayley!"
"It's ok Hay, bathing it in water will help…"
"Ginge!"
"Hayley, you idiot what…what…Hayley, how did you do that?"
"Hayley are you in pain? Can you say something Hayley?"
"Hayley!"
"I am ok," she managed to whisper in response, reality slowly returning to her.
"Don't ever do that again!' Harry reprimanded, still baffled at what had just transpired. He gently gripped the hand with the fingers he had so carelessly broken, and rubbed soothing circles across her knuckles. "You, you can't just do things like that! It's dangerous!"
"Are you in any pain?" Felicia contributed. "I can get you some painkillers – "
"No! No medication," the young billionaire cut in sharply, his words law.
"It does not hurt. I can't feel it. The burn is on the surface. It should not scar."
"What do you mean you can't – " he began before his phone cut in with a shrill whistle. The number it displayed instantly soured his mood. "It's Fisk. I have to take this," he snapped bitterly as he moved away from the two women.
As much as he wanted to stay with his girl and take care of her, he had to answer Fisk. That man was becoming increasingly noisy in OsCorp's affairs.
The call took twenty long minutes, and the whole time his eyes never left the redhead. Not once. Felicia was talking to her comfortingly, bathing her burnt hand, and changing the water when it lost its coolness. He felt relief in knowing she was in good hands, though he wished those hands were his.
It was hard to concentrate on what Fisk was saying: Harry was so torn between his duty as a CEO and his responsibility as a boyfriend. He wished that he could devote all his attention to her even though they were still fighting. However, that was not presently possible. Fisk was a huge risk to his company, his criminal activity, and to Hayley.
If only she knew everything that I do for her, he thought as he ended the call, placing the cell phone deep in his pocket.
Without his attention elsewhere, Harry was unsure what to do with himself. Talking to Fisk was always draining, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest with a cool drink. However, he still had Hayley to worry about. He walked back the short way over to the two women and plonked himself beside the redhead. Though she didn't react to his presence he made sure as not to dislodge her and her injury.
"How is your hand feeling?" he asked Hayley expectantly. No response was uttered, just catatonic silence. Harry leaned forward with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose stressfully, "Felicia, get me a glass of Bourbon."
"You should not drink alcohol. Remember therapy?" Hayley reminded coolly.
"So you can have your vices, your pills, but you won't allow me to have mine? I can't smoke or drink? Tell me how that's fair? We would love to know."
"You forbade me to take my pills remember? I have nothing! Your true vice is murdering people," she retorted, completely forgetting Felicia kneeling beside her in the heat of the moment.
Strangely, the assistant did not react to the news of Harry's incriminating pastime.
"Seriously Hayley? I don't kill people when I'm stressed – "
"Could have fooled me."
"And we are back to this!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up despairingly. "Felicia, that drink…now!"
"Fe, get him some soda please."
"You do not get to order my staff around! I am the CEO of this company!"
"It's always about power with you isn't it?"
"Felicia – "
"Fe – "
The brunette stood and walked anxiously to the bar, smoothing out the creases of her dress whilst she observed the two argue over something as simple as a drink. She had to admit that Hayley had a point, though it was not her place to say. For someone of his age and social standing, Harry drank way too much alcohol on a daily basis. Whenever she would prepare his drink, Felicia would slightly water down the liquid, though not enough for him to realise. Anything to curb his alcoholic appetite.
"It's been a very stressful day back, and since you threw my cigarillos over the balcony, I need a drink to – "
"Argh! Harry Osborn, you are an alcoholic!" Hayley burst out, standing to her feet in frustration. The shallow glass bowl containing water to cool her hand bounced dangerously on the sofa. She was thankful it didn't fall; otherwise Felicia would have another mess to clean up.
An uncomfortable silence coated the office, its female occupants uneasy and unsure of what could happen next. Defiantly, Hayley matched the venomous, green glare of the Goblin. The small action of raising her chin slightly showed that she was not going to back down from her truthful statement, no matter how much it hurt him.
"Take. That. Back!" Harry growled slowly, teeth clenched in fury. Even though his eyes glowed green, the Goblin had not fully emerged. This anger stemmed deep from the young billionaire himself. "Never, call me that again."
"It's the truth."
More silence followed.
It was a battle of wills between the two, with the redhead boldly holding her own, something she never could have done when they first met. He was almost proud of her conviction…almost.
The quiet could have lasted for a while if it had not been for Harry's phone, which interrupted the tense atmosphere with its piercing ringtone.
When he didn't immediately reach for it, Hayley said stonily, "Answer the phone Harry. It's probably important."
"Not until you take back what you said."
"Then we'll be standing here all day."
Eventually the phone stopped ringing.
To their right, Felicia jumped as her own phone began to ring. "Yes. Yes, I understand. Ok, I'll tell him," she spoke formally, adjusting her Filofax that rested on the bar to make a few notes. Then she called out, "Harry, that was Manners. He said to answer your phone."
Her boss rolled his eyes as his pocket began to vibrate and ring again. Grabbing the frustrating object, he snapped into the receiver, "What? I'm busy!"
Hayley took that as her cue to leave. "I'm going," she called softly to Felicia, who gave her a warm smile.
"No!" Harry barked at her, his sharp eyes trying fix her into submission. "You will not leave until I say you can. You will stay here until you apologise."
"I have work to do Mr Osborn, and my lunch break is over," the redhead said blankly, quickly making her way to the glass door exit. "I wouldn't want my boss to fire me for slacking off," she mentioned icily before vanishing from the office.
"I will fire you if you leave this room! Hayley! Don't leave! ARGH!" Harry roared, kicking the sofa in frustration. When she did not immediately return, he fell back onto the sofa, completely exhausted by their little encounter. "What?" he snapped down the phone, "I am not acting like a child, Manners! Felicia! That drink!"
Hurriedly bringing over half a glass of whisky, Felicia sighed as her boss downed the drink in one go. He barely even winced at the sharp flavour. Then he shoved the glass back into her hands, a clear demanded for another. But before the brunette had even taken a few paces from him, he changed his mind.
"That'll be all," he ordered, dismissing his assistant. As Harry listened to his lawyer, he picked up the forgotten rubber ball on his desk and started to bounce it off the wall again. "Have you got the device? Good. Send it to the Manor immediately."
"I thought a one-to-one session would enable us to delve deeper into a subject that we touched upon in one of our previous meetings."
Emily Baker paused to gauge the redhead's reaction. The seasoned psychiatrist noted the instantaneous way the girl's shoulders hunched further and how her face fell. Her expensive pen glided over the notebook beneath it, scribbling in shorthand the outward signals and body language that the girl was exhibiting.
"I am familiar with your case," she continued, "and have thoroughly read the report from the previous psychiatrist and caseworker that were assigned to you after the death of your parents."
Still no response except a slight quiver in Hayley's body and hands, almost like someone had walked over her grave. The colour had drained from her face whilst the light was quickly dissipating from her glazed eyes. Clearly the memory of her parent's death was a sore spot for the girl, especially considering her reaction to Mr Osborn's comments from an earlier session.
"Your file mentions that you never cried over their death - am I correct in believing this comment to be true?" Yet again, Baker's words were met with silence. "I am sure the memory is very painful for you to talk about. Their death must have been traumatic for a child of ten, yes? Do you suffer from nightmares or flashbacks?"
"I won't talk about it no matter how hard you try," Hayley spoke finally. Although her conviction was confident, her pained face betrayed her true feelings. "Using prompts from my file will not force me to talk to you. I know what you're trying to do. You seem to forget that I am psychiatrist also."
"In this instance you are not," Baker snapped sharply, a firm yet strained smile upon her lips, "you are a patient in need of therapy."
"Bringing up supposed facts about that event will not make me talk about it. You cannot make me relive the past. I know all your tricks – I had the same education as you."
Sighing impatiently, the psychiatrist rubbed the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. The girl's insistent refusal to cooperate was wearing, though completely understandable. It was hard for any medical professional to relinquish control of their position and training, especially behavioural therapists. However, Emily Baker was not deterred; she still had a few tricks up her designer jacketed sleeve.
"Surely Mr Osborn's openness and increasing confidence in expressing himself shows you that this is a safe place for personal discussion. Underneath his anger, there was real concern about how you are handling your past on a day-to-day basis. Though his methods were questionable, his heart was in the right place."
"Reverse psychology…really?"
"I am merely stating my observations. As a psychiatrist, I'm sure even you recognise that his behaviour deserves to be rewarded. It might help him to understand your actions and behaviour. Do you not think that he deserves to know more about your past?"
"He knows enough!" Hayley yelled standing furiously. She thought back to that night when Harry had seen her scars. It was one of the hardest, most freeing things she had ever done. But revealing the rest of her fiery past would not provide the same feeling; it would most likely destroy her.
Baker did not flinch at the sudden outburst but merely surveyed the redhead from behind her thick spectacles, inwardly smiling – finally, she was getting under the girl's skin. Nonchalantly, the psychiatrist scribbled down a few sentences before delivering the final blow.
"It must have been hard for a ten year old to lose both her parents and younger sister in the same month," she said, as if the statement did not hold that much significance. Her eyes were trained on the notebook in her lap, hiding her anticipation for the girl's response to her next question. "Her name was Alison, yes?"
"Don't…please…I can't talk about her…please…" the redhead pleaded, her eyes scrunched shut in an attempt to escape from the situation.
"She died of blunt force trauma to the head – "
"Please, p-please stop…"
"The report states she fell down the stairs; you testified as a witness to that fatal accident, correct?"
Hayley sank back onto the couch, tears streaming down her face, "I-I-I beg you…please, I can't take about her…"
"The coroner also documented that there were a variety of burn marks on the four year old. Her back suffered the worst, along with smaller marks on the child's abdomen, legs and arms," Doctor Baker continued, her verbal assault on the girl nowhere near complete. "According to a statement from your parents at the time, Alison accidentally picked up lit cigarettes and injured herself on multiple occasions. It also states that you both were playing with a lighter and you burnt your sister's back."
"W-w-what?" Hayley breathed shakily, intensity returning to her eyes venomously. "Is-s…is that what it says? Does it really say that I hurt her?"
"It does," the psychiatrist replied delicately; she had captured the redhead's attention and opened up a verbal dialogue. All that she needed to do now was carefully pries the truth from her.
"I never touched her! I never hurt my sister…I would never…I tried to protect her!"
"Your parent's claimed that you hurt Alison on multiple occasions."
Hayley looked up to the ceiling as if everything she ever knew was a lie…because it was. "It was them," she implored, every syllable laced with devastating emotion. Her sobs raked her tiny body as tears peppered the trembling hands in her lap, "It was them!"
"Breathe Hayley," the psychiatrist instructed, "I want to remind you that you are safe here: nothing leaves this room. What was "them"?"
Shaking her head, Hayley continued, "They never touched me. Never. Just her. They only hurt her…only Ally…why?"
"Keeping breathing deep breaths, and try to calm yourself - "
"Calm down? I just found out that my parents tried to frame me for their abuse, and you want me to be calm?!"
"Hayley – "
"They used to burn her," the redhead said quietly, her body suddenly eerily still, voice steady without emotion. "They would stick their lit fags on her arms and legs. As they burnt her, they laughed. They laughed as she screamed and cried. They laughed as the smell of burning flesh reached their noses. Every time she did something naughty, moved wrong, played incorrectly, looked in their direction even, they would burn her. Any excuse to flip open that lighter and run the flame down her back."
Emily Baker listened entrapped by the girl's solemn confession, the pen slack in her hand, its purpose long forgotten. There was never a moment for her to interject, and she had no reason to.
Almost out of guilt, Hayley reached for her ponytail, twirling the long, ginger strands in her fingers, "I've always had long hair and she always had short hair. My parents enjoyed holding a flame to a pair of metal scissors, heating them until the blades glowed amber. Then they would hold it to her hair, watching as the strands singed and charred. For four years they abused her…but…they never once touched me."
"How do you feel about that? That they hurt your sister but not you?"
"Like the most vile human being on this planet. I'm as much to blame as they are."
"You were only a child at the time, Hayley, no older than ten," Doctor Baker reassured. "Did you not consider going to the police after she died, or even a teacher at school?"
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Even at ten years old I knew it was my word against theirs. Besides, I never saw any of it happen," Hayley smiled sadly. "I was always told to go upstairs and sit in my closet until they called for me to come out. I would sit in the dark and listen to her screams. I couldn't protect her. I failed at being a big sister. They killed her, and all I could was hide. I was powerless."
"How did your parents act after your sister's death?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did they start harming you?"
"Once…only once," she said numbly, her voice shallow and haunting, "only once… the day before they died." Hayley's mouth broke out into a sinister grin, an expression that did not sit well on her petite face.
"Their death pleased you?"
"Of course. They deserved to burn for what they did. They deserved to feel every licking flame burn them alive. It was such a fitting death, wouldn't you agree?"
Emily Baker stayed silent as a dangerous spark ignited in her patient's green eyes – it was the same vengeful look that Harry Osborn had exhibited when he was the Goblin. They both had the eyes of a murderer.
"Are you…are you admitting to being involved in your parent's murder?"
"It seemed only right for them to die by my hands. It was the only thing I could do for my sister. We all deserved to die that day. I should have burnt to death in the very closet where I hid in fear."
"Do you feel guilty for having lived?"
"Every single day."
Harry stared at the listening device that sat next to the cold cup of coffee on the bureau in front of him. He had heard every word between his little redhead and the probing psychiatrist.
Realisation washed over him now that the full extent of the damage inflicted on Hayley's back had been revealed; it was the mark of a guilty bystander, a testament to the abuse of her sister, and a permanent symbol reminding her that she should have died that day. Harry was glad she hadn't. Even if living was a constant struggle for her, he was happy that she was alive. Without her in his life, he was nothing. She had shaped him, supported him, loved him…all of him. He really was being a jackass.
Casting his mind back to the argument they had in his office, Harry now understood her animosity towards him smoking. It had been a reminder of the torture little Alison had endured. He made a mental note to dispose of every cigarillo packet at his office and in the Osborn Manor. It was a small gesture, one that would probably go unnoticed, but he didn't care – it was the principal of the thing. His actions held meaning, and as long as he knew their significance then that was all that mattered. It was the least he could to make amends. He was meant to be her protector, her hero, and all he had done was play the abusive villain.
So lost in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed the loud sobbing coming from the speaker; "I'm a murderer…and I would do it again if I could," came Hayley's voice.
"I suspected our little Ginge was hiding a secret, but this is simply perfect! She is even more complex than we thought," the Goblin pondered gleefully. "You have to admit, this recent revelation is a turn on! Our scarred little redhead, beautifully damaged and corrupted. She is – "
" – a murderer."
"As are you. She is a cold blooded murderer, and she is – "
"Perfect."
They listened to the remainder of the therapy session in silence, wanting to drink in every single word and delectable secret that tumbled out of those distressed lips.
"You know, I think Hayley might enjoy the final phase of our plan."
""The "burning man"? What do you have in mind?"
"Would it not be fitting to have our girl complete the final act? To have justice be inflicted by her hands?"
"That's the best idea you've had yet Osborn. Yes. We'll have Ginge strike the first match."
HELLO! God it's been forever! Thank you all so much for your kind words, patience and understanding – you are all gems.
Guess what happened on June 12th? This story became a year old! I could not have achieved this without you, my dear moosey readers. So you all get a treat…. ANOTHER CHAPTER THIS MONTH!
Sorry if you can't review this chapter because you already reviewed it when it was "message" content.
MUCH LOVE XXX
P.S. (Exciting behind the scenes decisions)
It took me forever to decide who had contacted the psychiatrist in the previous chapter. It was a toss up between Peter, Felicia, and Harry. I think Harry was the right choice to make, though for a while I was leaning towards Fe!
A deleted scene inspired Harry's stress relief ball throwing antics – it can be found on the DVD's Special Features.
Also, I think we all guessed Hayley's past wasn't a pleasant one, but I thought that to have the abuse happen to her was a bit cliché for an OC, so that's why I chose her sister.
This chapter was a bitch to write…hopefully it doesn't suck!
