SPIDER-MAN: DARK WOUNDS
GRIEF:
The sun streamed a steady glow of late morning sun throughout the entire apartment. It cast out shadows stretching across the apartment giving the place a very varied look. I threw my free hand up in front of my face as the sun attempted to blind me. My other hand was holding onto a bowl of Cheerios, which, by this point, had taken the appearance of a sponge. A cloud rolled past and hid the sun from view, letting me concentrate on the television again. I let out a silent sigh as I noticed it had changed to commercial while I wasn't paying attention.
"Are you tired of debt weighing down your life?" The TV advertised, showcasing a young woman with straight blonde hair acting in front of the camera. A slideshow of black and white pictures of depressed people fading into one another behind her.
My cereal won over my interest as I stirred around the near liquid breakfast. One bite was enough to tell me the milk had done its magic and was eating the cereal for me. I set it down on the coffee table and began to wonder when my Sunday morning 'shovel-ware' cartoons would be back? A commercial with a grass-green background caught my attention almost instantly.
A man in a nice gray suit with white under-shirt and deep red tie was addressing me this time. "OSCORP: Where Dream Meets Reality."
OSCORP. Harry. I had completely forgotten.
I rubbed my temple in disgust at my stupidity. MJ's party and The Goblin completely preoccupied me. Harry was my damn near only friend and I had forgotten about him. Ben was at the Bugle for a mandatory meeting with 'sour-puss' and had left me a list of things to pick up sometime today. I suppose I would pick them up, return home and try calling Harry. Harry never was one to wake up before three in the afternoon.
xXx
The 'Ding-Dong' of the supermarket doors was one feature of life I had NOT missed while hiding in my own misery. Funny how they always come back in the most obnoxious of ways.
I swung out the tired and worn piece of paper from my pocket with the list of food to get. Was obviously a quick-list judging by the five things written: Bread, Milk, Pretzels, Peanut Butter and Oranges. Bread was in isle three which was at the far left of the chilled market. I made my way down the green and white checkered floor and chipping yellow walls. Each isle was covered in advertisements for toothpaste, crackers and other products. Sunday was 'church day' and being a predominately Catholic city, the streets were quieter than usual and the supermarket more open. I began to pass the cashiers when a friendly voice shouted my name.
A man and woman, both my age were at the checkout line with a cart barely full of items. A gallon of water and some red, plastic cups were the two visible items, but I assumed there was more. The man was heavy with a growing goatee and skin-head. He was dressed in a red sport jacket and jeans. The woman had dark, flowing brown hair and a medium amount of make-up. She was wearing a fur coat and jeans as well. Kong and Liz. "Peter!" Kong called again, waving me over.
I went over mostly because I had nothing better to do and I really was interested in what Kong wanted to talk to me about. "Yeah?" I sighed, slightly annoyed at his appearance.
"Just wanted to see what's up." Kong shrugged, noticing the hint of anger in my voice. "Oh, and Peter, I assume you know Liz…" His beefy left arm director towards Liz.
"Oh…yeah." The drunk bitch who kissed me. "Why?" Liz gave me a dirty look, obviously remembering that night, and turned towards the cashier who began to make small-talk with her.
"Just introducing." Kong explained, scratching his clean-shaven head.
"Uh, cool." Waste of time. "I need to pick up a few things, so I'll see you in school, Kong." I turned to walk away, secretly shaking my head at Kong's need for attention.
"Oh, Peter!" Kong stated urgently. "About school…"
What's interesting about school? "Yes?"
"Flash is spreading stuff about you…" Kong let out an embarrassed smiled. "He's a sore loser, I guess..."
"Flash is scum. Nothing more, nothing less." I growled "You're his bitch, you should know that."
"Hey! I'm no ones bitch!" Kong defended.
"You're Flash's bitch!"
Kong leaned in towards me. His height giving him the advantage to tower over me. "And to think I defended you."
Liz made her way over carefully, sliding her arm along Kong's bicep and sliding it up to his shoulder. Her eyesight never leaving Kong's face. "Come on, Kong. Let's not start now."
"Look, I don't regret your help. I just need you to understand that as long as you let Flash treat you the way he does, you'll never be any different than him." I explained.
"You-" Kong started.
"Never."
Kong let out a deep sigh as he lowered his guard. "I appreciate the…help. Or whatever you want to call this, but Flash has influence."
"And you have muscles." Liz backed up.
Kong smiled, showing his slightly yellow teeth to her before turning his attention back toward me. "For whatever reason, people have some sort of need for Flash's approval."
"You too?" I wondered, feeling like I was stumbling onto something.
"Flash and I became friends through football." He shrugged. "I never thought about it too much…"
I stood there for a minute, replaying the conversation in my head. "You say Flash has been talking crap about me?"
"Yeah. It only started a day or two after you kicked his ass."
"Kong…" I smiled. "I have a big order for you to fill out."
"'Sup?" Kong tilted his head to the right slightly, mimicking an owl.
"How do you feel about rocking Flash's shit?"
"I-I…I have no idea. Why?"
"If the school sees his best friend, you, turn against him…he might lose influence."
"Why are you so obsessed with Flash's takedown?" Kong furrowed his brow, Liz slowly pushing herself off of Kong's frame.
I turned toward the door. "I don't like Flash. I thought that was a unanimous feeling."
xXx
I kicked open the door to the apartment while trying to juggle the bag of groceries. I placed them carefully on the counter, shoving my keys in my pocket. The paper bag crumpled and fell over, the contents spilling all over the counter.
"Ah, crap." I sighed, ignoring the mess and walking over to the phone. A vibrant number 1 flashed across the tiny screen, an obnoxious beep following each flash.
Ben's voice emitted from the speaker as I pressed the play button. "Hey, pal. If you don't get this message I assume you're at the store. The meeting is running a little late, and afterwards me and Kingsley are grabbing a few beers. I should be home at around six or seven. OK, thanks." Another beep initiated the end of the message.
The current time was 3: 46. Plenty of time before Ben got home. Might as well check on Harry. Harry had ignored my past three cell calls. Maybe his home phone would be luckier.
I punched in Harry's number and waited mind-numbingly through a series of repeating rings. After six rings, his answering machine picked up.
"Hello and welcome to the Osborn Residence." Norman's voice. "We aren't home at the moment, so if you could, please leave a message."
Beep.
"Hey, Harry, it's Peter. I've…I've tried calling you a few times already. Is everything-" A loud crash rocked the background and diverted my attention. "Harry? Harry, what was that? Harry!" No answer. "Dammit, Harry! I'll be there in twenty minutes!" I dropped the phone into the holder and raced for the door.
xXx
I tumbled into the balcony of the OSCORP building, crouching precisely in front of the clear, glass doors leading into the living room. My mind was racing through possibilities as to what the crash was. It was racing so fast that I only bothered to wear the mask of my suit. No time to put on the rest of the suit.
I tore the mask from my face and shoved it in my pocket and doing the same thing with my web-shooters. The glass doors squeaked slightly as I made my way into the living room. The faint odor of alcohol and bile wafted in front of my face. The living room was neatly-kept aside from a few bags of chips and a dirty glass on the coffee table. The TV was left on, the rhythm of rap music emanating from the speakers as MTV aired a music video. I continued past the couches and toward the kitchen. The hallway to Harry's room was through the kitchen and I figured if he was anywhere, he was there. As kids, Harry and I would hang out only in his room. We played nothing but Xbox and giggled like idiots at a Playboy or two. Kid stuff. So simple compared to this crap.
The sparkle of glass caught my eye as I turned the corner to the kitchen. The wine cabinet in the corner by the stove had been broken to pieces. A blender lie beneath it, scratch marks riddled its frame and the plastic was cracked. The wine from the cabinet was gone aside from one bottle which had been broken with the cabinet. Its olive-green liquid flowing from the bottle and over the shelf, drenching the floor and broken glass. The lock around the handle was secure and unmarked. Possibly a burglary?
Even with the growing ease of a burglar, I continued towards Harry's room. The smell of puke becoming more consistent. I wrapped my hand around the door knob, the sound of clanking glass sounding from the other side. With a heavy sigh, I turned the knob and let the door drift away from me. My eyelids jumped from my pupils, my hand snapping upwards to cover half my mouth.
Harry lay across the floor, his upper back resting against the foot of his bed. His head was tilted toward the ceiling as he downed a bottle of booze. Three more bottles lined up on his right. The same kind of bottles that were in the wine cabinet. A dozen or more empty bottles of various alcoholic drinks were scattered around the room. A puddle of vomit lay by his computer in the far right corner, another on Harry's left. Harry's right arm was dripping with blood. Several scratches lined his hand and lower forearm. He gasped for air as his head dropped back to its resting position. Black rings had formed around his eyes, his skin taking on a bright white color with a hint of yellow. The bottle rolled away from his fingertips and into an unoccupied spot on the wood-covered floor.
"Harry…" I shook, my joints locked in place, eyes still focusing on Harry. "My God…"
"Hhheeeyyyyy…Peeeettteerrrrrr…" Harry's voice was straining as his brain fumbled through months worth of alcohol looking for letters.
"Holy shit." I gasped, my mind beginning to grasp the image. "What the hell are you doing?"
Harry didn't answer. His head had slumped to his chest; spit dripping from his gapping mouth. My mind began to relax as I realized Harry wouldn't fight me when I brought him to the hospital. My heart imploded as I took a better look at him.
His chest was unmoving.
"No…" I raced towards Harry, kicking away the wine by his side. I pressed my ear to his chest, checking for a heartbeat or some sort of breath.
One one-thousandth. Nothing.
Two one-thousandth. Nothing.
Three one-thousandth. Nothing.
"HARRY!" Harry was dead, or close to. No heartbeat, no breath, no life. Dead.
I threw Harry onto his back, flattening his body out for a better chance at air. I opened his mouth and wrapped my lips around it. With all my lung-power, I forced three breaths of air into his lungs. Nothing.
"No, God dammit. Not now." Two more.
Nothing.
With a shaky hand I pulled out my cell-phone and called 911 and got up to my feet. My head hurt, the tears welling up in my eyes.
An operator picked up instantly. "Hello, 911, what's your emergency?"
"MyfriendisdeadHedranktoomuch-" I was talking too fast to understand.
"Please, sir. I can't understand you. Could you slow down?"
"MY FRIEND IS DEAD! WHY THE HELL IS THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?" I shrieked, punching the wall beside me.
"We have your location; we are sending help right away."
Beep.
I looked back over at Harry. He still wasn't moving. I fell against the wall the tears streaming down my face. I tried to hold them in, telling myself it would be alright. I started to calm down, the flow of tears stopping for a split-second. I took a deep breath of air looked back at Harry. His cold, rotting body was too much for me as I began to sob again. My breath came short and quick as my chest began to spasm. The tears drenched my face and pants, head in my hands.
Anyone but Harry. Anyone.
xXx
The hospital was loud, bustling. I sat in an uncomfortable, black, plastic chair across from room three twenty. Harry was having his stomach pumped within, the very idea churning my stomach. The only thing running through my mind was why Harry would do this. Harry wasn't an alcoholic, at least not as far as I knew. Why would he drink his life away? Literally. I shook my head out of confusion and took a look at my phone.
5:48 PM.
I had already been here for a little over an hour and a half. Felt like so much longer. I needed someone to talk to. Things were deteriorating fast. I was on the verge of a breakdown.
The elevator sprung to life as it pulled up to the floor. I cocked my head behind me out of curiosity, not because I was expecting anyone. My heart fluttered as I took in the sight of Gwen emerging from the elevator. I sprung from the chair, standing in the middle of the hallway, facing her. Her eyes were slightly teary, her walking speed increasing with each step. She hopped into the air, slamming into me. Her knees were bent to keep her feet off the ground, arms around my neck. She buried her face into my shoulder, tremors from her tears violently shaking her body. I hugged her back, securing my arms under her shoulders.
"Oh God, Peter." she cried, voice muffled by my shoulder.
"I know…I know." I assured, holding back tears myself.
Gwen dropped her grasp and secured her position in front of me. Mascara ran down her cheeks, her tears further liquefying it. "Is he…?"
"No, thank God."
I turned from her and looked at the door. No sound emitted from the room. The hallway, on the other hand was booming with life. A doctor jogged past me, clipboard in hand. A woman's voice called out of the loud speakers for a Doctor Stephen Strange. I assumed that was the doctor who had just ran past me as I retook my seat across from the room Harry was in. Gwen looked at me for a moment before taking the seat beside me.
"Are you OK?" She wiped the stream of mascara from her face.
"No." I sighed "I-I feel…helpless. Harry's my best friend and I-I let him drown in alcohol and shit. I…I…." The tears began to spur up again.
Gwen noticed the emotion gushing from my face and embraced me. "It sucks, I know."
The tears began to pour from my eyes, wetting my cheeks and Gwen's shoulder. I gently eased myself out of her grasp and smiled at her. "Thanks…thanks." I swiped away the tears with one hand and looked at the door again. "How did you find out? Your Dad?"
"No, my cousin, Philip, is a 'Doctor-in-training'"
"Ah, well, I'm glad he called you. I had forgotten…" I admitted while my mind was buzzing with scenarios of why he would do this and what would happen next. A bolt of realization shot through my body as I leapt to my feet.
Gwen jumped up beside me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I just realized…" I began, staring numbly at the door. "I found Harry…at home…"
"Yeah…?"
"…Where the hell was his Dad…where the hell IS his Dad…?"
Gwen stared at me dumbly, eyes darting across my face. I looked back just the same. "I…I don't know."
"Do you think he…abandoned him?" I whispered, trying to keep it secret.
"I-I don't know…I'd rather-"
Gwen was cut short by the click of Harry's hospital room opening. A doctor in turquoise colored scrubs emerged with two nurses behind him, each dressed the same. He crossed the hallway, placing his clipboard in the holder beside the door and carefully taking off the white mouth-cover from around his jaw.
"So?" I began, moving towards him.
"He'll be fine." the doctor smiled reassuringly, crossing his arms. "There was a lot of crap in his system. Even some medicinal drugs. We couldn't identify them completely, but they didn't cause any more harm than the alcohol."
"Thank you so much." In my mind, I was on my knees; kissing his ass.
"Can we go in to see him?" Gwen asked quietly, trying to match the volume of the doctors voice.
"Yeah, sure. Just don't touch his abdominal area or wake him. Visiting hours end in a few minutes, though." He smiled casually, patted me on the shoulder, and walked off down the hall.
Gwen and I entered the room cautiously, trying not to hold too much hope that Harry would look fine. The room's walls were green on the bottom half and white on the top half with a clean white tile floor. On the far side of the room, in front of a row of windows the size of me was Harry's bed. A nightstand, the same grey color, stood on its left, a heartbeat monitor on the right. A box of tissues, flower and a radio sit nicely atop the table adding to the atmosphere. Harry was tucked tightly beneath two layers of baby blue blankets. He was thinner than usual thanks to the stomach pump and pale, his rich blue veins showing above his translucent skin. Strands of his dark brown hair spread out in many directions as his head lie propped up against the overstuffed pillow. A thin wire connect from the heartbeat monitor to his wrist, the metal clip hidden beneath a layer of surgical tape. Gwen circled around the bed to his right side, I took the opposite direction. We both looked down at him in grief, neither of us exactly sure what to say and how loud to talk to prevent him from waking.
"God, he looks terrible…" Gwen noted, placing her hand on Harry's shoulder.
"At least he'll be alright…" I shrugged, looking her in the eyes.
"Don't know how much that means."
"Me neither."
We both smiled at each other softly, trying to lighten up the situation. But it stared us down, destroyed our defences, and left us both feeling terrible. Miserable. We couldn't help Harry and we were his friends.
"I can't stay here any longer." Gwen sighed, walking back toward the door.
"Whoa!" I darted for the door, and held it shut. "Why are you leaving? You can't leave me…"
"Peter, it's not you, it's not Harry...it's me."
"What?"
"Ever since my Mom died, I've never been good with death. It's always felt…weird." She looked at the ground before snapping her head back up, a black hair-band keeping her hair from moving in front of her eyes. "I know it's natural, but it makes me wonder. Ya know?"
No. "Yeah…I do."
"Now please, Peter." She stepped in close to me. "Can I go home?"
"No." She looked at me in shock and disgust. "Only if I can walk you home." A smile spread across my face indicating it was a joke.
xXx
We passed by the front desk, the middle-aged woman behind it smiling pleasantly at me as we passed by. I smiled back out of courtesy. We neared the door as I realized I hadn't called Ben. I pulled out my phone and looked at the time, my feet stopping my movement. Gwen looked back as she noticed I wasn't beside her anymore.
6:23 PM
Ben might be home. I wouldn't know unless I called. No need to make him worry.
"Uh, Gwen. I need to call Ben. He might be wondering where I am."
"OK, I was just thinking about getting something from the cafeteria anyway."
I could use a coffee. "Could you pick me up a coffee?" Gwen nodded, pulling a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket. "Thanks, wait here until I get back."
We kissed quickly, both of us knowing we would see each other very quickly. I glided through the automatic doors and out into the sidewalk. The street was busy both on and off the road. The sidewalks were packed shoulder-to-shoulder with pedestrians, most in suits and ties with a briefcase. The roads were bumper-to-bumper, the majority of the cars being taxi's. That's Rush Hour for you. I opened up my contact list on my phone and began to scroll down.
A scream blasted out into the evening air. A girl's scream, from the alley beside the hospital. A few people on the sidewalk had heard it to, judging by the way they all suddenly turned and looked at each other, confused. I put the phone back into my pocket and raced for the alleyway. Two silhouettes stood against the pale moonlight, one a man, the other a woman. The woman was protecting a purse as the man mercifully beat on her.
"Hey! You!" I called toward the thief. He snapped his head in my direction, right hand still holding the woman's sleeve. "Leave before I call the cops!" The man continued to look at me, his face hidden beneath his hood and a layer of darkness. He looked down at the woman and then back at me. I crept the phone out from my pocket and began putting in 9-1-1. The man still looked at me silently. The awkwardness of the situation becoming more and more uncomfortable. "Last chance!" I called back.
The man picked up the woman by the throat holding a knife to it. The woman screamed at the sight of his weapon, the moonlight reflecting off of it.
"Don't do it!" I shouted. "Put the knife down." After a moment of silence, the man pulled the knife away and dropped it on the ground. His grip on the woman still strong. "Now-now…put her down."
In a flash, the assailant twisted the woman's neck; the sound of breaking bones rattling my ear drums. She slumped to the floor, head backwards. I stood wide-eyed at the dead figure, paying no attention to the killer. I looked back up at him, but he was gone. All that remained was the poor woman's corpse, lying helpless and broken among the snow-covered alleyway.
"Hey, Spider-Man." A voice cackled beside my ear.
I knew who it was instantly. That terrible laughing voice. His slimy hand wrapping around my throat, the other swiping at my phone, knocking it to the concrete. The Goblin stood firmly in the middle of the alleyway, darkness hiding us both. His gloved hand holding me above his head.
His other peeling away a hoodie.