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Chapter Thirteen – Consequences

I awoke from my sleep with a start, chest heaving and covered with sweat. The room was mostly dark, a small amount of light slowly beginning to shine through the curtains, and I reached out quickly for my cell phone. Surely it was just a nightmare, it couldn't be real. I unlocked it and swiped through the news app – there is was:

MAN FOUND DEAD IN CENTRAL PARK – SUSPECTED GANG HIT

In the early hours of this morning the body of Seymour O'Riley, 21, was discovered in Central Park. Officers suspect that this killing was in connection to the recent news story linking O'Riley with the identity of the vigilante Spider-Man. Police have confirmed that a note was found also referencing the death of Silvio Manfredi, a prominent suspected player in the New York underworld known as the 'Silver Mane', another event connected to the Spider-Man. Three additional bodies were also found, but police have not yet released any further information on the cause of these deaths.

I swore quietly to myself and collapsed back onto my pillow, hands gripping my curly brown hair and tears filling my eyes. No matter what I did people continued to die, no matter how tenuously they were connected to me. Faces flashed through my mind: Seymour, Gwen, my Uncle Ben, all my fault. At this rate I wouldn't have been surprised to find that my parents died because of me. I ripped the pillow from under my head and held it hard over my face and let out a scream into it as I felt tears soak into the fabric. After a few seconds the pillow was ripped from my grasp: Harry was stood over my bed, a look of concern on his face.

"What the matter Pete?"

I held my phone up to him, and he took it as he stumbled back to his bed.

"Fuck man." He whispered to himself once he had finished reading. He tossed the phone back onto my bed and just sat in thought. Neither of us spoke to the other for what felt like hours, we merely sat. We all took a day off that day; as time went by the pair of us walked to Ned's and Flash's room to break the sad news. Flash took it the hardest of all of us – Seymour had been his friend for years when he was younger and although they hadn't spoke in months that friendship was still there. Later on in the day Liz and Betty arrived, makeup smeared and eyes blotchy, to sit with us and just be together. The conversation remained on Seymour, of memories, of experiences, but I couldn't shake off the last sentence of the report: 'three additional bodies'.

Thoughts of these three thugs ran through my mind – surely I didn't kill them. I'd remember that, not completely forget it. All I remembered was finding Seymour's body, but I'd remember if I had killed someone wouldn't I? I thought back to something Harry had told me from his psychology lectures about repressed memory to deal with trauma, but I shook that off. One thing was clear to me though, and that was even if I didn't kill them directly, I had responsibility. I had left them there, so if someone else killed them that was on me, same as with Silvermane. No more justifications, it was my fault.

"I'm going to break Brock's face next time I see him." Flash muttered under his breath, dragging me from my thoughts.

"What?" Betty asked.

"He's the one who got that scoop remember? Saying Seymour was Spider-Man."

Flash was right: if it wasn't for Brock's information Seymour would still be alive right now. Whoever he had trusted was either an idiot or evil, and much like my responsibility for the potential death of those three thugs, he had responsibility for Seymour. We found out later that day that his actions had brought about effects for the twenty-five year old. His internship had been swiftly terminated by JJ in a very loud manner, with the editor ranting about unreliable sources and journalistic accountability, as well as phrases such as forging documents and bringing the news outlet into disrepute. This apparently continued into Brock's education, with the university announcing they were suspending Eddie until investigations came to a full conclusion as to how much responsibility he had in the murder of O'Riley.

The days went by slowly until the weekend arrived: the day of Brian's party. We were all invited, as always, but the idea of going to the party conflicted us. It didn't feel right, but as Harry said it was what Seymour would have wanted. Despite this only half of us ended up going: Flash, Ned, and Betty chose to stay behind. Flash was still reeling from the impact of O'Riley's death, and Ned had to be in the Bugle early the next morning. Betty opted to stay with both of them, not feeling much like partying herself. The three of us remaining ended up at Brian Braddock's apartment on the Sunday evening at nine, and by half ten Harry and myself were already drunk. We were trying to forget everything and leave the feelings of loss and guilt behind. I looked around at the faces of the people, both familiar and strange, and turned back to Harry and Liz.

"Isn't that Brock's girl?" Liz said, looking into the crowd.

"Good thing Flash isn't here." I slurred.

"Yeah especially since she's heading over to us." Liz added.

"Shit." I heard Harry mutter.

I turned around in my chair and saw Felicia Hardy approaching, her light blonde hair curled and bouncing as she strutted towards us in a low cut black sequined dress, her arms and neck adorned with gold jewellery. She smiled at us and took a seat next to Harry.

"Hi." She purred in her low feminine voice.

"Hey, been a while." Harry said to her smiling. I noticed the proximity of their bodies.

"You here with Eddie?" Liz asked. Felicia shook her head, and I felt myself feel slightly happier. He was one of the last people I wanted to see at the moment.

"We're not together anymore." Felicia said after taking a mouthful of her drink. "Ended it with him a couple nights ago. Had to after all the stuff that happened with his article and that poor kid." The last comment hit me in the stomach.

"Sorry to hear that." Harry said.

"Don't be, it was never going to last."

The four of us chatted and drank for half an hour, swapping stories and memories. The more we spoke the more attention I paid to Felicia. There was something about her that felt familiar, that felt safe. Before I could focus on the feeling we heard a commotion out in the hallway.

"Where the hell are they!" A voice shouted.

"I hoped this wouldn't happen." Felicia turned to Harry, as the figure of Eddie Brock burst into the room, pushing aside two guests I didn't recognise who were trying to hold him back at the door. He was angry, his face twisted in fury, and his eyes were focused on Felicia.

"You out sleeping around again?" He asked sternly walking in our direction as Felicia stood.

"Eddie we're not together anymore." She replied, the room silent watching this display.

"And here's your new boyfriend." Eddie grabbed Harry by his lapels and dragged him off his seat. "Tell me why I shouldn't break your face right now pretty boy."

"I didn't do anything." Harry said grasping at Brock's hands. I tried to stand but Liz pulled me back down, trying to keep me from getting involved.

"Bullshit." He snarled. "You're a liar just like your dad."

Harry's face turned into a scowl and he raised his fist, punching Brock in the face. The larger man dropped him and turned a punch of his own, a much harder strike which knocked Harry to the floor. Before he got up Brock's booted foot connected with Harry's stomach who let out a groan of pain – Felicia got in between the two men.

"Fine it's true, but Harry didn't start it. I did." She fixed her eyes into Brock's and he backed down.

"He's still responsible." Brock said angrily. "He knew we were dating every time he was in your bed."

A large hand rested on Brock's shoulder. "It's time for you to go." Brain's English tones announced.

Brock turned to look at him, considering his chances, before shrugging off his hand and slowly walking towards the exit. He turned to face Harry and Felicia, who was helping him back up to his seat.

"You'll get what's coming to you. You and him, and Jameson, and Spider-Man. All of you." His hand clenched around something on his chest. "They will bear the punishment of their iniquity: Ezekiel 14:10." He left the room, Brian following to escort him out. The room slowly filled with muttering and conversation as the party resumed.

"What an asshole." Felicia muttered standing up and flattening out her dress. "I'm going to go see if I can find a first aid kit or something."

As she left I looked at the face of my best friend. His eye was already beginning to swell and he had a large cut across his eyebrow from Brock's punch.

"So that's this girl you've been seeing?" I asked.

"Leave it Pete." He muttered, looking sorry for himself.

"What the hell did you expect would happen?" I asked. "You sleep with another guy's girlfriend and think everything will be fine?"

"Listen, I know I fucked up."

"Then why did you do it?" I demanded.

"Because we're not all good people like you!" Harry snapped.

The breath left my lungs – any reply I had vanished with my conviction. Harry still viewed me as a good person. He had no idea of everything on my mind, Silvermane's death, the bodies of those three in the park, my new found anger as Spider-Man. Despite all of that I was still, at least in Harry's eyes, a good person. I suddenly felt guilty thinking about the changes I had been going through, and in that moment all of my justifications that I had been using broke. I felt tears well in my eyes.

"I'm going home." I stood and walked towards the door. I heard Liz call after me, and Harry told her to leave it. On my way down I thought of Gwen, of Uncle Ben, of Aunt May. I wondered how they would think of me. Would they agree with my justifications? The answer was no. They wouldn't let my behaviour slide, same as I wouldn't let Harry's. As I stepped out into the cold air and felt snow crunch under my shoes I knew I needed to think, to get to somewhere that I could clear my head. Somewhere that I could get back to being a good person.

Song Recommendation: We Don't Deserve Love - Arcade Fire