If yesterday was bad, today was hellish.
Frankie swore she could taste her insides. Her whole mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton that had been soaked in puss all night. Her tongue was numb, lolling around in the back of her throat. It took almost twenty more steps than usual to get to the subway and her whole body was swollen. Even in her hoodie and debate blazer, she felt like she was standing in a freezer, not curled up on a bacteria coated seat on a sweaty and smelly subway car.
No one had been awake when she got up, practically crawling across the floor to get out of the apartment. She may have left a trail of cold sweat in her wake. It was still dark out so no one really bothered her. Perry had sent her an odd look when she'd almost tripped over her own feet, but she hadn't really had the energy to answer any well meaning questions.
Now she was on the subway, shivering and aching all over. It felt like she was getting a lobotomy each time the car shook. But she'd told her father she'd go to school. And what would she be doing, anyway? Laying in bed and bingeing Parks and Rec? No, she didn't have time for that. So here she was, sweating her ass off and wiping it up with the ends of her old black hoodie. Her eyes zeroed in on an old piece of graffiti on the back of the chair in front of her, a cartoon alien she'd put up a few months prior. The paint was chipping, and she could have sworn that the color wasn't that bright.
This car must have been a piece of shit, because Frankie could hear every screw and panel rattle. It dug at her brain, the noise clawing at her head and taking up too much space. The girl pressed her clammy hands to her forehead, pressing hard as if that would do anything to relieve the pain.
"You okay, kid?"
Frankie jumped, feeling like someone had just yelled those words into her ear. But when she turned her head, no one was next to her. Instead, a man in a cheap business suit several seats down was peering at her nervously. She was so dizzy that it looked like there were three of him.
"Uh… yeah," she mumbled, her lips numb and and words slurring, "Under the weather, I guess."
The man kept looking at her, leaning back in his seat like he was worried she'd jump up and attack him. She knew what she must look like. Swollen face, sweat stains, heavy breathing. She looked like a junkie, or someone about to shoot up the subway. Still, her mouth twisted up in a sneer, which only made the man stand up and move to the back of the car. Not having the energy to care, Frankie just sat back and curled back in on herself to wait for her stop.
It took a million years but it finally came. The doors slid open for her, but her legs felt like they were falling off. She held tight to the hard plastic chairs to keep herself balanced on the way out.
Each step hurt. Her ankles popped, the heels of her feet burning under her weight. She almost tripped over her feet several times, but somehow the candy-haired girl managed to make it to school. Luckily for her, it was mostly empty. An early morning Decathlon meeting was taking place, and apparently Flash was yelling his ass off since Frankie could hear him several halls down. Pushing her way through the front doors, she almost ran straight into none other than MJ.
The other girl squaked in surprise, batting at Frankie like a spooked animal. "Woah there, don't knock me over."
"Sorry…" Frankie mumbled, feeling like her mouth was stuffed with cotton. She pushed strands of sweat hair off of her forehead and peered over at her friend. Her nose wrinkled, her senses being hit by a heavy dose of MJ's deodorant. She must have dunked herself in it this morning. "Has- uh, has practice started yet?"
"It's about to," MJ responded, eyes raking over the other girl carefully, "Are you okay, dude? You look drenched."
Frankie looked down at herself, seeing that she's sweat through not only her old Jaws t-shirt, but her hoodie and her blazer. Her pits were damp and she stank of sweat and subway smell. Her head throbbed as she heard Liz yelling down the hall, trying to call the meeting to order. Frankie rolled her eyes at the sound of the senior girl's desperation to get everyone under control. Flash's nasal voice was particularly grating.
"Jesus," the candy haired girl muttered, rubbing at her head, "Could Liz just get a grip?"
MJ's brows furrowed, head cocking to the side. "Uh, what?"
Frankie pointed towards the door beside them. "Liz. She's practically screaming at Flash. Which, I mean, I guess is warranted. But still."
Her friends eyes flicked back and forth, seemingly unsure of why Frankie was pointing at the room. Her mouth opened, keeping her gaze on her friend. "Uh, dude, the meeting's down in the gym."
"What?" the blonde responded, feeling the word slur in her mouth, "Uh… oh. Okay."
"Dude, are you sure you're okay?" MJ asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You look like you've stepped off the set of the Walking Dead."
If she could physically roll her eyes at the moment, Frankie would.
"Let's call it an anti-hangover," Frankie shrugged, not in the mood to explain that this wasn't anything she couldn't handle, "I'm miserable with none of the fun stuff to jutstify it… uh, we should probably go to practice."
The taller girl nodded, nodding her head to the side towards the practice room. "I'll lead the way, Blondie."
The girls made their way over to the gym- MJ was kind enough not to comment on how heavily Frankie's feet were dragging- and pushed their way inside to find most of the team lounging around and Liz trying to calmly get everyone to start while Mr. Harrington organized his notes. The senior girl's decathlon notes were clutched tightly in her fist, crinkling and giving away just how frustrated she was under her serene face. Frankie ducked her head, trying to keep herself under the radar of her teammates and into her seat to give her legs a rest.
"Hey, Foxy Boxer!"
Ah, shit.
The girl's face twisted up as she looked over at Flash. The boy was lounging in his chair, legs up on the table in front of him as he smirked over at the two girls who'd just entered. "You look like shit."
"Thanks for noticing," she tried to bite back, but the edges of her words were going soft.
"Hart," Mr. Harrington called out nicely, waving a bundle of notes in his hand, "Glad you made it. We've got the latest topics for you to study for the next meeting."
"Actually," Liz cut in, stepping forward with her crumpled up notes in hand. Her footsteps felt like hammers against the younger girl's temple. "I've got this sort of tag team idea I wanted to run by you. And since Peter's not here today-"
"What?" Frankie cut her off, feeling her knees tighten uncomfortably the more she remained standing.
Liz's face fell apologetically. "Yeah, sorry. I thought since you and Peter are kind of our top scorers, you could work together in this next round. I know you guys don't like each other, but-"
"Yeah, yeah…." the younger girl waved off, leaning a little further into her friend at her side, "That's a good idea."
The senior peered down at the other girl, seeming to just notice how haggard the pink haired girl looked. "Are you okay, Frankie? You can take the day off if you want."
"No…" she quickly waved Liz off, pushing off of MJ and making her way towards her chair, "I'm fine. Let's just… start, I guess."
"Are you-"
"Yes," Frankie glared up at Liz, "Let's start."
The older girl shrugged, giving Frankie one last concerned look before ushering everyone else in the room to their spots. The blonde ducked her head slightly, squeezing her eyes shut against the harsh glare of the sun through the gym windows. It cut through her eyelids and made her head pound. Her breathing was labored, rattling in her chest while she tried and failed to pay attention to what Liz and Mr. Harrington were trying to explain. A few bells were rung in an attempt to say something funny. Their words and sounds swam through her head, dipping in and out of any coherent words to the point that she wanted to just give up and fall asleep right on the spot.
"Frankie?"
Her head popped up, though she regretted the sudden movement the moment she opened her eyes to find the whole room spinning. Liz was looking over at her, having apparently asked her a question. When Frankie didn't respond, she took a breath and asked again.
"The Napster copyright dilemma differs from that of earlier technologies because…"
Because the internet is more difficult to regulate. The answer was easy, almost insultingly so. The girl opened her tight jaw to respond.
"B...ecuz…."
Her hand flew to her mouth, feeling around her lips. The words felt garbled, slurred, unable to push their way out. Everyone in the room turned their head, half looking concerned and the other half glaring at Flash for laughing. Frankie might have even been glaring too if her heart wasn't trying to pound its way out of her chest. She tried again, desperate to get the word out but her tongue was numb, limp and cold in her mouth. She felt someone's hand press against her shoulder. She looked up to see Mr. Harrington looking down at her, deeply concerned. MJ was beside her, hand gripping onto her stiff wrist.
"Kid, you don't look so good," the teacher said gently, taking in the panicked look of his student, "Michelle, could you take Miss Hart to the nurse."
"Yeah," MJ muttered, already pulling Frankie to her feet with a soft hand on her shoulder.
She could tell Flash was saying something crude and sarcastic, but all the sounds he made sounded like a glob of nasal noises. It was painful, and her limbs weren't working correctly. It was like they'd all fallen asleep the moment she'd tried to stand up. Her skin prickled painfully as MJ tried to drag her forward. She attempted to open her mouth again, but as she did, black spots started dancing across her line of sight. She didn't even have enough time to make a sound before she hit the floor.
A few people cried out. Several pairs of hands were on her, trying to flip her onto her back. The movement did nothing more than cause her muscles to cry out in pain. But Frankie didn't respond, instead letting her eyes roll back in her head and let the dark soothe her headache and pull her under.
She couldn't see. Something was coating her left eye, and everything tasted like ash. There was a ring in her ears that pierced her brain and sawed through her skull. Slowly, the child peeled her head off of the concrete beneath her to see the world had ended.
People were screaming, feet barely missing the child on the ground as they ran for their lives. Creatures and heroes flew overhead, indistinguishable from each other. No one looked down at her, but she could see familiar faces in the crowd. Jack, mom's partner, was dragging some woman towards the ambulance. Frankie peered up at them with blurry eyes, just making out the rubble that was sticking out of the woman's chest and dripping with blood. The eight year old could feel her breath fall out of her lungs at the sight. She couldn't pull her eyes away as the woman was dropped into the arms of another EMT, their uniform smeared with sticky blood and silvery dust from the broken concrete.
Jack turned around as soon as his arms were free, his dirty face desperately searching the crowds.
"Heather!" he yelled out, his blonde hair falling in his face and blue eyes watery as they darted around, "Francine!"
Frankie opened up her mouth, the taste of concrete between her teeth as she was about to call out to the man. However, another voice cut her off.
"Jack!"
The little girl sluggishly turned her head to see her mother rushing over from a large crowd of people fleeing the street. She pushed her way through, dark hair falling out of her ponytail and EMT jacket thrown haphazardly over her blouse. Frankie watched as she ran towards Jack.
"Mommy…" the girl croaked, throat scratchy and coated in ash.
"Where's Frankie?" she could hear her mother demand, her low voice carrying over the screams of the crowd as she gripped onto her partner's shoulders, "Have you- where's my daughter!?"
Breathing hard, the child steeled herself for the pain of crying out. "MOMMY!"
Whipping her head around, the dark haired woman caught sight of her daughter keeled over on the sidewalk about to get trampled. Her mouth opened up in a yell that was swallowed by the chaos as she ran towards Frankie. The eight year old raised her hands up in an attempt to grab hold of her mother. Heather fell to her knees and pulled the girl into her arms.
"Oh, Frankie!" she yelled, swiping the blood off of her daughters eye, "Frankie- baby, are you okay?"
"M-mommy," she stammered, tears pouring down her face, "What's happening?"
"It's okay, baby," the older woman soothed, "Mommy's gonna bring you back to the ambulance and you're- you're gonna stay there for a while. Okay?"
"Mommy-"
"Please, Frankie," her mother begged, blue eyes widening down at her child, "Please just follow me. Follow me and do what I say."
"What about-" she sputtered, eyes darting around the crowd, "What about everyone else? We can't fit them in the ambulance."
A strange smile spread over her mother's face, like it almost hurt. Her watery eyes bore into Franki in a terrifying way as she grabbed hold of her daughters face with shaking hands.
"My brave girl," she blubbered, gathering Frankie up in her arms and pulling her to her feet, "First we need to get you safe, okay? Let mommy save the others."
Without waiting for a response, Heather dragged her daughter through the terrified crowd. They all stood so tall above Frankie, she worried they may crush her underfoot. She watched as the ambulance came into view, not able to resist as her mother picked her up and thrust her into Jacks arms.
"Keep her in there," her mom demanded, her eyes boring into Jack's, "I've got twelve civilians with major injuries."
"Yeah," Jack nodded, grasping onto the child, "I got her, Heather."
"Good…" the woman seemed to be able to breathe for a moment before turning back to the hoards of injured civilians. She turned her head towards Frankie one more time before the child watched her disappear into the crowd.
Unceremoniously, she was thrown into the back of the ambulance by Jack with shouted apologies before he continued to try and bandage a teenage boy's head. The little child clamored back to the front, eyes peering up at the terrifying swarms of aliens and light above her.
In the corner of the sky, however, was a flash of red and gold. Frankie felt her chest full with a sort of warmth and face break out into a large smile.
Pushing herself out of the ambulance, the blonde child scrambled out of the back of the ambulance and onto her knees in the street. She grunted, feeling her skin peel away from her knees and rubble dig into her flesh. But she didn't care. Frankie pushed herself up onto her feet, eyes on the sky and following the scarlet trail of the one who could save everyone.
"MR. STARK!" she screamed into the wind, waving her arms over her head in a childish attempt to get the superhero's attention.
Someone did notice, though. Her mother, hands covered in a patient's blood, started to run towards her daughter with a terrified look in her big blue eyes.
"Frankie?!" she cried out, dodging people running for help, "Frankie, what are you-"
"MR. STARK!" she continued to scream, on the tips of her toes and thrashing her arms around wildly, "HELP US! DOWN HERE!"
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on her arm hard. Frankie squeaked as she was roughly pulled around to face her terrified looking mother. Her dark hair- so much like her brothers, had it not been for the ash matting into her locks- framed her face, stuck between terror and anger.
"Francine," she yelled, gripping her daughters arms tight, "I told you-"
"Mommy, it's Tony Stark!" she yelled back hopefully, "I thought if-"
""No," Heather croaked, coughing up through the dust in the air, "Don't think. Just- just stay where I can-"
"Look!"
Frankie felt a smile spread over her face, so wide her jaw might crack. Above them, trailing scarlet in his wake was Iron Man. She gripped onto her mothers jacket as they both stared up at the superhero chasing down an alien cruiser. Racing out of his palms were beautiful beams of light as he took them down.
Then, something happened.
Frankie couldn't tell when her face fell or when she realized something had changed. But she watched as Tony Stark continued to shoot at the cruiser, light streaming from his suit. What he didn't seem to notice that the child saw was the cruiser making a sharp turn. But he didn't stop shooting.
The child stood frozen, her mouth open in a silent scream as she saw the building above them take the hit from Stark's laser, crumbling and melting like something out of a horror movie. In boulder sized chunks, the building began to fall towards them.
"FRANKIE!"
The child couldn't turn, couldn't look back. She couldn't look away from the metal and concrete coming towards her so fast that she wondered if she'd feel it when they crushed her.
But she didn't. Instead, she felt her mother's bruising grip on her arms as she ripped her backwards.
Suddenly, Frankie was flying through the air. Her blonde hair fell over her bloody face as she tumbled roughly to the ground. She didn't know if she was in pain, only that one second her mother was there and the next she was alone. She listed her head, swiping her bloody hair from her face as she looked up to see her mother running towards her, struggling against a sea of people pushing around her to move out of the way faster.
"MOMMY!" she screamed, frozen on the spot with tears leaking out of her eyes like she was a broken faucet. She couldn't move. And it looked like her mom couldn't either.
She could see met mother's mouth moving , but nothing came out. Or she couldn't hear it. She lay there on the ground, screaming for her mother as they locked eyes before-
Frankie shot up, eyes flying open. She gasped, breath ripping through her as she pressed her hands to her face and tried to push the images away from her still throbbing head.
Shakily, Frankie blinked her eyes open, feeling a stiff mattress press up under her hips. It was clear she was in the nurse's office, based on the fluorescent lights and ugly health-related lights themselves were turned up too bright, cutting through the room in a harsh glare. Her eyes, almost too heavy in her head, fell down to her legs where she saw her foot poking out over the edge of the cot. The end of her right pant leg had ridden up, revealing the old, mangled scar around her calf. Another gorish reminder of that day.
The world still felt out of focus, and her ears were ringing. She brought her fingers up and brushed them over her ears, a brushing noise filling her senses almost frighteningly loudly.
As she continued to run her fingers over her ears, Frankie nearly jumped out of the little cot she was laid out in when the nurse herself thew open the door and stepped inside. The teen whipped her head around to see the older woman standing in the little doorway, her wrinkled uniform drooping over her uncomfortably thin frame. The nurse looked her over, her sunken eyes looking mildly annoyed and completely out of her depth.
"Good, you're awake," she said simply, keeping her hand on the door handle, "I was starting to get worried."
Frankie blinked again, dropping her fingers from her ears. "What do you mean worried?"
"Sweetie," the woman sighed, looking the girl over, "You've been passed out for almost eleven hours."
"Wh-what?" the girl sputtered, shooting up from the cot, "How… uh, why?"
"No clue," the nurse shrugged, "But you were burning up for a bit. We called your father to get him to pick you up, maybe take you to the hospital. But he's still a no show, and school's out for the day so I'm heading home soon."
Narrowing her eyes, Frankie straightened up- noting that her back wasn't stiff or popping anymore. "So you were just going to leave me here, unconscious and suspecting I had a major fever?"
"Sweetheart, we're a public school."
Honestly, Frankie didn't have much of an argument for that.
The rest of the conversation was customary and stale. No, her father wouldn't come pick her up. Yes, Frankie could take herself home. No, she wouldn't pass out on the way back. Customary things.
"When did you call my dad?"
The nurse fixed the blonde teen with a look that dripped with pity. It made Frankie's stomach turn and lips twist up in a scowl. She hated that look.
"Called him this morning," she responded before turning back and shutting the door behind her, cheap shoes squeaking against the dirty linoleum floor as she went to gather her things.
As soon as the door shut, Frankie felt her head duck as she picked at the edge of the incredibly thin and cheap blanket underneath her hips. She shouldn't be upset. She knew her dad worked most of the time, and she was definitely glad they hadn't called Charlie in from class. That would've been a nightmare. But she couldn't quite tamper down the little pinch in her chest that started when the nurse mentioned neither was coming.
Leaning her head against the wall, the blonde swallowed the feeling and nodded her head against the cracking plaster. It felt cool on her still slightly sweaty forehead. She didn't feel like walking to the subway, not wanting to find out if her legs were still tight. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her hand against the wall and pushed herself off.
As she swung her legs off the cot, Frankie was immediately yanked back when a sharp ringing split its way through her skull. She cried out, a strangled and barely contained yelp of pain as she pressed her hands to her head. She hadn't even felt herself keel over, but suddenly she was curled up into a ball on the cot.
Then, as quick as it had come, the noise stopped.
Frankie breathed hard, overcome with the sudden silence in her head. The pain wasn't quite there anymore, but something lingered. Shakily, she moved her hands away from her ears and tried to sit up. However, as she did, she saw that her right hand was smeared red. Her eyes widened, bringing her fingertips to her ear again only to have them come back sticky and slick with blood.
"What the fuck?" she muttered, stretching out her fingers to see more blood stuck between them, "Uh- nurse? Nurse? Something's-"
She scrambled to her feet and ran through the door, bloody hand shaking in front of her face. But as she made it through, she heard a loud snap. Feeling her feet slide under her as she tried to come to a stop, Frankie looked down to see that the door handle was splintered and severed from the door. What… the actual fuck?
The blonde lifted her head, tufts of clumsily dyed pink hair falling over her eyes when she saw that no one was there. She turned her head, looking around to see no one. The lights were turned off and clearly Frankie had been left alone. Then how the hell had she heard footsteps?
"Fucking asshole."
Pressing her lips together, the teen quickly snatched up her things before ducking out of the nurses office. She made her way through the halls, tugging her hood up to cover her bloody ears. Shoving her bloody hand into her blazer pocket, she felt like her entire palm was prickling and like a dozen needles were pressing into her skin. And something was going on with the back of her neck. It was going cold, and she felt like something was right behind her.
"Hart!"
Without thinking, Frankie spun around and clamped her hand around a wrist she hadn't known was right above her shoulder. Apparently her grip was tight, because the person let out a yelp before she even thought to let go. Above her was Mr. Harrington, shaking his wrist as if that would relieve the pain.
"Jesus, kid," he muttered, an awkward smile on his face, "You're a lot stronger than you look."
"Uh- yeah," Frankie stuttered, hand frozen where she'd gripped her teachers wrist up in the air, "I kickbox, so…"
"Oh right," the teacher smiled, dropping his hand to his side, "I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay before I left. I heard you'd finally arisen from the dead and so on, so…"
Looking over the awkwardly tall teacher, the blonde pressed a smile onto her face in spite of harsh glare of the light giving her a headache. She lowered her hand into her pocket. "Yeah, I'm- I'm fine. Totally. Just… food poisoning."
The candy haired girl cringed, knowing full well that there was no way what had happened was food poisoning, and Mr. Harrington definitely knew that too. He nodded uncomfortably, hands twitching at his sides. She could practically hear the fabric rustling as he shifted from side to side hammering against her eardrums.
"Well," he shrugged, "I should let you go. Do you have a ride?"
Frankie waved him off, eyes darting all over the hall. "I take the subway."
"That might not be the best idea-"
"I'll call my brother," she interrupted, not wanting to continue getting the third degree.
"Oh, Charlie," Harrington smiled, "Yeah, great kid. Say hello for me."
Frankie didn't even have the energy to hold back the scowl on her face. "Will do."
Luckily for her, the teacher didn't seem to notice the sour look on her face. Or maybe he attributed it to her supposed food poisoning. Either way, he was finally leaving her alone as she pulled out her phone to prove she was going to actually call someone. He took that as a good sign and waved before he walked off towards his classroom. Then, he spun back on his heel like he'd suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, by the way," he said, digging into the little satchel he had strapped around his shoulder, "Since Peter wasn't here today, can you drop off his materials? You both have the weekend to catch up. We can't have both our best members falling behind."
"Yeah- yeah, sure," she muttered, snatching the paper out of Mr. Harrington's hands as she pressed her phone to her ear, "I'll… yeah, I'll see you in class."
She didn't even listen to his parting words as she heard the line click and her brother pick up. There was something loud in the background, and the static was high pitched and painful against her eardrums.
"What?" he said instead of a greeting.
Frankie pulled the the phone away from her ear, the ringing too much to deal with before she tentatively pressed it back. "Charlie?"
"Francine," he groaned, "I'm at practice."
"Don't call me- whatever," she didn't have time to snap at him, and she definitely didn't have the energy, "Could you- uh, can you cut practice early?"
"Why would I do that?" he questioned, his voice pitching up slightly almost as if he was concerned. Frankie knew better.
"Because I'm your sister and I need a ride, you asshole."
Her brother sighed. She could hear someone yelling at him to get off his phone. It didn't sound like the coach, but what would she know? He yelled something back, the voices garbled by the static that cut through her already throbbing head.
"Yes, I'm coming!" she managed to make out before his voice came back to the microphone, "Look, I can get out in an hour. If you just wait around I can-"
"Actually," she interrupted, her chest tightening with embarrassment at even calling her brother at all, "Nevermind."
"Frankie-"
"No, I'm- I'm totally cool." she waved off, her arm pushed deeper into her pocket and body going stiff as if her brother were glaring at her through the phone.
His voice was suddenly more concerned. "Are you still sick or something?"
"All better," she shrugged, voice going soft, "Right as rain and… and other overused colloquialisms. I'll- uh, I'll see you at home."
"Wait, Frank-"
The blonde quickly hung up and moved to shove her phone back into her pocket. As she did, however, she noticed a smear of blood across the screen. She felt her stomach drop, eyes widening as she shoved it deep into her blazer pocket and spun on her heel to run out of the building.
As she burst through the front doors, the world suddenly exploded with noise and light.
Frankie almost screamed, hands flying to her bloody hears and a groan escaping her lips. There wasn't just one sound, but a million. Screeching tires, honking horns, people speaking over each other a thousand at a time. And the sun split through her eyes, cutting into her vision like a knife and making everything blur into nothing. They all clawed through her skull, forcing her to stumble her way over to the nearest wall and press herself into it to stop herself from falling down on her knees.
She couldn't tell what sounds were coming from her and what was coming from around her. What the hell was happening? Frankie felt her hair tangle between her fingers, tugging painfully against her scalp as she pressed bruisingly hard into the concrete wall beside her.
"Frankie?"
That one word felt close by, so she opened up her heavy eyes to see none other than Ben Parker standing in front of her. His work clothes were rumpled up and he looked down at her with a tremendous amount of concern. The older man's mouth opened and closed for a moment before he seemed to settle on something to say.
"Are you okay, kid?" he asked softly, like he knew his voice was too loud.
"I- I'm fine…" she muttered, trying to push herself up straight again in spite of the pulse in her head, "Migraine, I guess."
"That's one hell of a migraine," he chuckled uncomfortably, swaying a little on his feet, "Well, I was just picking up some homework for Peter."
Frankie rubbed at her head, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes against the painful, blurry light around her. "I thought the point of being home sick was to not do schoolwork."
"Yeah well, he'd probably panic even more if he didn't have it," Ben shrugged, waving the stack of papers he must have gotten from the office, "And when Peter panics, May panics and it's a whole thing."
The candy haired girl couldn't help the little quirk of her lips, remembering the manic episodes the two Parker's could get themselves into. "Yeah, they're… they're quite the pair. Well, I should start walking to the subway, and..."
"You know," the older man said gently, taking a step forward, "I could give you a ride back."
"Oh," Frankie breathed, lips pressing together hard and tugging her hood further over her head as if that would block out the sounds, "I couldn't… I take the subway. It's fine."
"We live in the same building," Ben chuckled, stepping up to her and placing a hand on her sweaty shoulder, "Seriously. Get in the car, kid."
The noise and light were all so loud that she didn't even notice that she'd let Ben Parker push her towards the car. She only noticed she was curled up in the backseat when the car burst to life, a deep and painful screech as the engine roared to life and the tires scrape against the concrete below. The teen tried to swallow the groans that were pushing up her throat with each piercing sound. Either she was doing a good job covering Mr. Parker didn't notice or he was too polite to say anything.
It wasn't long before they pulled up to the apartment building- going by car was way faster than going by subway, it turned out- and Frankie wanted nothing more than to tumble out of the car and run all the way up to her room away from the peering eyes of Ben Parker or anyone else. She could still feel the door handle in her pocket and the blood beginning to clot in her ears. This wasn't right. This wasn't some migraine, but what else could it be? Her breathing was shallow, burning her throat as it fought its way into her lungs. What the hell was happening to her?
"Thank you," she choked out, pushing open the door before the older man could see her begin to hyperventilate.
She heard his words garble out something, covered up by the deafening slam of the car door and her feet slapping against the concrete. She pushed her way into the building and up the elevator without anyone noticing her. Shakily, she pulled her phone out of her pocket to see that she'd gotten three texts from Charlie. She didn't bother reading them, too distracted by the dried blood on the screen.
A small whimper escaped her lips as the elevator doors opened and she shoved her phone back into her pocket. The blonde trudged over to her door, nearly falling into her apartment in her rush to get in. The door slammed behind her as she ran over to the little bathroom they all shared. She came to a quivering halt in front of the mirror and ripped down her hood to reveal trails of blood clotted and crusted dry in and around her ears. Her eyes widened and chest tightened as her breathing got quicker and more difficult. Her head swam as she started scratching at the dry blood, trying to rip it off her skin.
"What the fuck…" she whispered, the words wheezy and unintelligible through her panic attack, "What the fuck- what the-"
That's when she felt it.
Her fingers came to a stop on the base of her neck. Gingerly, she felt around the hot and clammy skin only to notice something she hadn't even thought about.
The spider bite was gone.