December 27th, 2007

Everyone just calm down. I'm fine. Call off the National Guard and the Avengers and all that. I'm fine. Okay?

I'm surprised you guys didn't find me. I was gone for a few days! Honestly.

Well, I was drugged, sedated, restrained--the works.

Guess who?

The crazy assassin lady. Am I never rid of these people?!

I was delirious and tied to a chair. Before I even spoke she slapped me across the face. "That is for the night with Daredevil. If he did not interfere the bullet would have been between your eyes rather than above your heart."

"Ow! So why slap me when it was Daredevil's fault?"

"Normally, Spider-Man, I kill my targets quickly and without hesitation. But you...I loath you. I want to make your life a living hell before I hand you over."

"Hand me over? To who?" I asked.

"The Kingpin, of course. I spoke with him shortly afterwards and he wants to break your neck himself."

"Yippie."

She punched me in the gut. And she did, she made my life a living hell. I had never been in so much pain. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. My body throbbed. What's worse, she didn't take a break during Christmas. I guess crazy assassin ladies don't do the holidays.

And for about three days I was pretty much miserable. I had a black eye, loose teeth, bruised ribs, and who knows what else wrong with me. So when she smiled an evil, evil frigging evil smile and told me it was time to go see Mr. Kingpin, I wasn't happy. I was happy to get out of there, yeah, but it wasn't like I was headed anywhere better.

I forgot how big the Kingpin is. He's really big. Huge big. 500 pounds big. Can break me in half with his bare hands big.

"Ah, Mister (last name inserted here). I've been expecting you."

I didn't say anything. I was only standing with help from the assassin lady.

He pointed to a chair. "Set him down there. Use the arm restrains, if you would." He went by the window to stare at the city he made a hell of a town while I was thrown into a chair. I had no strength in me, none. On the arm rests there were metal shackles. What kind of chair was that? She locked my arms in place, and apparently the two front legs of the chair had them too. So I was shackled down to a chair. Fun.

"Leave us, please."

"My payment?"

He threw her an envelope. I didn't look at either of them. I focused on breathing.

"You are not easy to track down, you know that? But you are a careless, teenage boy. They all make mistakes. Like lying and changing into your costume when you are almost certain no one is looking. Almost certain. Now...why my hired hands typed on your little, idiotic blog, I do not know. To worry your peers, perhaps. But nonetheless...no one will find you. No one will help you. You are mine."

"Yours? Yours? I don't know what you want from me, fatty. Kill me. Go ahead. But I don't belong to you."

He chuckled. He grabbed his cane--it had a diamond top to it. It seemed expensive. He gripped it firmly, and then with such force smacked me across the face with it. It was such a strong blow that the chair toppled over, with me in it. I shouted out with that one. I sort of wanted to die. I wanted to die, to be free of the pain. I almost heard my uncle calling me. But then I was struck again and brought back to a painful reality.

"You will die, do not worry," the Kingpin said. "But not yet."

I was taken into a room then. A locked room, with no windows, no air shafts, and a steel door that was triple bolted. My bed was stuck to the ground, and around my ankles were chains that were attached to my bed. I had just enough room to walk from one end to another. There was a toilet--how thoughtful of him. There was also a sink and a mirror. I would look in the mirror, look at my bruises. I was a mess. The Kingpin was serious about owning me. He wanted me at his will, to call me when he wanted me, to hit me when he wanted to. I didn't like it. I felt helpless. I was helpless.

It went on for two days. I sat in my room, he came in and pushed me around. Sometimes he would unlock my shackles, to let me run around and to show me how tired I was, how slow and weak I was. I didn't care. I was beyond caring.

But then he said something to me.

"That redhead girlfriend of yours is something. I'd like to bring her in here. Show her how strong her Spider-Man is."

"Don't you dare touch her!" I shouted at him.

He laughed, and I knew he'd do whatever the hell he wanted. I had to do something. So when he left I walked over to the mirror and I broke it with a jab from my elbow. I grabbed a big shard of glass that had fallen and gripped it tight. I then sat on my bed and waited. Sure enough he came in, and I stood up, hiding the glass by tucking it under my glove.

He came in, playing with the keys. "Run around in circles, move those strong legs of yours," he laughed and mocked me. He put a key in my chains and unlocked me. He then looked at the mirror, shattered on the floor. But before he could do a thing I took my shard of glass and jabbed it into his shoulder, close to his neck. He shouted out in pain, and I ran out of the door. It was stupid of him to keep it open. But sometimes smart men do very, very stupid things.

The first thing I did was go to the redheaded girl that fatty was talking about. She screamed and aided to my wounds, but I was just happy to be with her. She cried. So did I.

But then I had to tell my family why I was not there for Christmas. "Yeah, auntie--I was kidnapped and beaten up. Oh, by the way, I'm Spider-Man." So my aunt looked at me, and I lied. I told her I had spent the entire Christmas Eve and Day with my girlfriend, and that we just had a romantic time. She believed it, but she was heartbroken. I was not there for Christmas.

I can't keep doing this. I'm sorry. But blogging just ruined my Christmas. It almost ruined my life. I can't keep doing this. Sooner or later someone will track me down again.

I may update it every once and a while, if something big happens that I need to comment on. But I learned a hard lesson today. You can't trust anyone. And the internet has a lot of people you can't trust.

I'm sorry.

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A/N: I'm not going to say that it is the end, because it's not. Spider-Man's Blog is a legendary fanfic that can not have a simple "The End" conclusion. I will not be updating it as frequently, but it is NOT over. I want to thank each and every one of you. You made this fanfic what it is, and your reviews and your messages and your adds kept me going for much longer than I ever imagined. Thank you, thank you, thank you! If you wish to read on, please add this story to your alerts. I may update it once or twice a month, but I have so much going on and this fanfic is literally never ending. Thank you again!