PTSD, Peter knew, never really went away. He had first learned about it when he was nine. After he looked up the diagnosis for nightmares and night terrors that never went away. For why he reacted so violently to being called something as simple as 'Einstein', and how sometimes he would catch himself washing himself so roughly in the shower that his skin was become raw.

As Peter's life continued, he found himself connecting many events that happened in his life to his growing anxiety. From three of his parental figures dying before he even turned sixteen, to building collapsing on him, crashing a plane that was on fire, and literally dying.

Being imprisoned by Ross for a three weeks, five days, and six hours (Mr. Stark had told him when he had asked after he had woken up) just added to Peter's growing list.

There were so many things that were different now. The raft had changed Peter just like the Soul Stone had. Ross had deliberately set the lights in Peter's cell to the same orange-red color from the stone to freak him out. It was always cold, and Peter had little choice but to stay curled up in a corner for warmth with a blanket so thin it was more like a sheet.

For instance, Peter absolutely hated running on a treadmill. He could stand seeing them, even though it made his anxiety spike a little before slowly lowering, but the first time he had tried using one after Ross he had had a full on panic attack. The second time, he had forced himself to continue until he had passed out because there was no stopping stopping meant punishment and animals like Peter didn't deserve breaks anyway.

Peter hadn't used one since, and no one had forced him to use one. He ran around the indoor track, or the park with Mr. Rogers. Just no treadmills. Not again. Not so soon.

He also didn't spe- didn't talk as much. The silence threw everyone off, Peter realized this but he just couldn't bring himself to talk as much as he did, and forced everyone else to fill the silence Peter usually naturally filled. The first couple days after Peter had gotten back were the days he didn't speak at all. He just nodded, shook his head, or shrugged his shoulders. Slowly, Mr. Stark and May had coaxed Peter to speak, but it was still only one worded answers or short sentences. A full week had passed after Peter's rescue before Tony noticed that Peter only spoke when spoken to.

So they made sure to always speak to him. Ask him questions, and make sure that he always, always knew that he could speak whenever he wanted to. That he was never not allowed to speak his mind or express his opinions. (It was still hard because it had been drilled into him that when he spoke without permission there would be punishment. The order of 'Speak' made Peter flinch even if he just overheard as he was walking by the park.)

Another thing Peter had a hard time doing now was looking people in the eyes. He never looked people in the eyes while talking, either staring at the floor, the wall behind the person, or the spot just above the person's eyes. The fact that he was at the compound that housed people who could read him like an open book by looking into his eyes made him uncomfortable. He didn't want them seeing how broken he was, or the self hating thoughts that ruled his mind.

The others would gently remind Peter that it was alright to look them in the eyes, but never forced him. He was taught that looking into eyes was for normal humans, and Peter was too far from humans to be given that privilege.

Anything around his neck made him want to scream, and flinch away. Sometimes, Peter would wake up from nightmares to Tony or someone else holding his wrists down because he'd been scratching and tearing his neck apart in his sleep. Something that was dangerous to someone that had super strength. A necklace, or a hand on his neck made Peter go back to the dark memories of a shock collar forced around his neck. Of the pain that came with "punishment" from breaking the rules. Of the humiliation that burned through his body when Ross pointed out that an animal like Peter needed a collar to remind him that he was owned.

The day that Mr. Stark and the others had rescued him was much quieter than what he thought it would have been. He had been curled up on the poor excuse of a bed when Tony had burst through the door in his Iron Man suit. The Black Widow and Vision had lead the two guards that were station in front of Peter's cell out of the room, being read their rights the entire time.

Mr. Stark had quickly exited out of his suit to reveal the wrinkly clothes associated with the lab, before rushing his was over to Peter's cell. He had pressed in the six digit combination, before pacing over to Peter and pulling him into a hug- whispering how he had missed Peter so much, and that Ross was never going to even see Peter again.

Peter was tense for several seconds before relaxing into his father-figures arms, and let out quiet sobs. Tony smelled like home. He felt like safety and comfort and all thing Peter had missed during his days on the Raft.

Later on, Peter would learn that the Avengers had gathered so much information about Ross, that he was getting a dishonorable discharge, and was being arrested for a number of things. Peter couldn't bring himself to care- he just wanted all of the memories of Ross gone. He wanted to never hear the name again.

Imprisonment, Peter figured out, was just going to be added to the long list of traumatic events that he had lived through. This time though was different. This time he was set up with a therapist that would help him. That would work with him to find out ways that would help him handle it instead of the unhealthy habits that he used to do.

This time, Peter knew, he had people on his side.

AN: Sorry this is so short, I'm not feeling that well, but I also really wanted to push this chapter out.

Up Next? Day Eight: Bullied

Thanks for reading! Until next time!