For as long as Spider-Man existed, the idea of him ever needing help from Ravencroft seemed impossible to the public, and to Peter Parker himself. Ravencroft was known for treating the likes of Doctor Octopus, Electro, and Venom, all whom had regularly come into conflict with Spider-Man before Peter threw his costume in the garbage. Even though a number of the world's superheroes, such as the Avengers, had stepped up their efforts in wake of Spider-Man's disappearance, it wasn't enough to keep the crime rate from going up in New York City, but that was the least of Peter's problems at the moment.
He was not in a good place. He had experienced so much adversity and misfortune over the course of his life, and recent events had brought him to his breaking point. His parents had abandoned him at a young age and he never saw them again after their deaths. Shortly after he had acquired his amazing abilities, a careless mistake resulted in the death of his uncle. He had constantly been looked down on and mocked by his peers at school before graduation. His elderly aunt could have a fatal heart attack any day. His double-life had caused him to miss out on time with his friends, and even put him at odds with them. J Jonah Jameson among other people would go off on his masked identity no matter how many good deeds he did. But, the recent death of his girlfriend at the hands of the Green Goblin caused him to hit rock bottom.
Peter had hoped he'd get closer to the end of the tunnel of misery he was in. He had thought now that he had with his friends it would make things easier, but it didn't. It was just impossible for him to hear Gwen's scream as she fell from that bridge. He couldn't forget the Goblin's laugh after he heard Spider-Man's reaction to her death. It was all just too much. Peter had become withdrawn from his friends, bought two six-packs of beer every week, and became attached to sleeping pills. He only ever came out of his apartment, or out of bed, whenever he had to take pictures from the Bugle. He was only able to keep his job was because he got lucky. Despite having no Spider-Man to take pictures of, the support of Betty Brant and Robbie Robertson led to Mr. Jameson keeping Peter around. But the income didn't buy Peter happiness. He was just waiting for all of his feelings to end, even if that meant no more positive ones.
Peter's loved ones knew how devastated he was from Gwen's demise. Some of them were friends with Gwen, too. It was hard for them to move on, but they all had moved past it. They noticed Peter was still mourning, but they had a feeling something else was wrong with Peter, but didn't know what. It wasn't until a visit from Aunt May revealed the cause of his behavior. Shortly after, May organized an intervention comprised of herself, Mary Jane Watson, Harry Osborn, Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, and Flash Thompson believe it or not. They pleaded with him to get professional help despite his denial of the situation. After some thought, he decided that if had any chance of finding any happiness in his life, he set up a meeting with one of the few people in the world who knew who Spider-Man was under the mask, and one of the few he trusted. His aunt told them that therapists couldn't legally share what their clients tell them, and his trust in Dr. Kafka was enough for Peter to give it a try.
Dr. Ashley Kafka of the Ravencroft Institute was no stranger to therapy, but she was somewhat surprised when Peter requested an appointment. Ravencroft didn't typically treat patients who weren't criminally insane, but she agreed when Peter told her about the intervention. But, before he could speak to the doctor about his troubles, Peter had to go through the mandatory meetings of filling out paperwork sharing personal information as part of the standard operating procedure. Now that those three meetings were finally over, he would finally know if there was any reason for him to keep existing.
Peter sat in the waiting room patiently. He wasn't in a rush, and with Spider-Man out of the picture, he didn't have to worry about canceling any appointments.
"Peter?" called a voice from a door down the hall.
Peter got up from his chair and walked towards Dr Kafka's office.
"Good to see you, ma'am," greeted Peter as he took a seat in the chair in front of Dr. Kafka's desk.
"Good to see you, too," replied Ashely, as she sat in her desk chair. "Have you been feeling any better since you were last here?"
Peter's face fell as his head faced the floor.
"Not really," he sighed. "Still thinking about Gwen. Still hating myself. Still wishing for an escape."
"Are you still drinking?"
"No. If I wanted to prove to my aunt that I'm doing better, I had to give that up."
"So, if your aunt didn't have a problem with the drinking, you'd still be doing it?
"No! Uh.. well.. Okay, yes. If I can keep her from worrying about me, that's a start. Or at least keep from worrying about me like she always has."
"And the sleeping pills?"
"Yeah, I'm still taking them. It's hard for me to sleep when all I can think about is, well, you know."
"That's understandable. And speaking of your aunt, how are things between you and her?"
Peter's modest nature often kept him from admitting something is wrong with him, but he knew he couldn't deny anything if he wanted to get anywhere in this process.
"It's been better," he admitted. "And that's pretty much my fault. I should've known she wasn't going to let me isolate myself from her. But, I've been calling her everyday since the intervention. If I can fix things, the least I can do is be there for her when I can."
"That's good," replied Ashley. "And what about you and your friends?"
"It's rough," answered Peter. "I've kinda been brushing them off for a while and ignoring their calls and texts. And I didn't make things better when I denied that something was wrong with me during the intervention. I think I only made things worse. I know I got to tell them I'm sorry, but I'm kinda scared to face them right now."
"Why's that?" asked Ashley.
"Because, well, they might just yell at me and cast me out. I guess I deserve it."
"But they're your friends right? If they really are your friends, they would understand. Especially if they know you're trying."
"I guess, but how do I know that? I didn't have many friends when I was a kid, and I whenever I tried making friends, it never went well. I'm just scared it's going to happen again. I don't want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed and again. I've been disappointed way too many times in my life to get my hopes up at this point."
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how confident are you that they'll forgive you?
Peter paused to think. He honestly had no clue.
"I don't know," he answered. "If I had to be honest, I'd say 50-50. I know they could, but I don't know four sure. Something unpredictable can always happen, and not a good kind of predictable."
"True," agreed Ashley. "But you told me before that you and Flash weren't always friends, right? Did you ever think you guys could ever be friends back then?"
Peter knew she had him right there, but that seemed to be only one moment of rare good fortune for him.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "But that was one of the few times I've been lucky. I'm not saying nothing good has ever happened to me, but it seems like every time something good does happen to me, something bad enough happens to take all the good feelings that came with all the good things. And it's going to keep happening again, again, and again until I'm dead. I'm not saying I want to kill myself or anything, but my aunt doesn't have too many years left, and I'm not sure I'll last much longer than that when it happens."
"Have you ever had suicidal thoughts?" asked Ashley.
"Well," began Peter. "I haven't exactly wanted to live, but I don't want to kill myself. It's mainly because of how the people I love would feel if I did it. Not to mention I'd only be making making things worse for myself if I even tried it."
"That's good. Are you still working for the Bugle?"
"Yeah. It's rough, but I guess I can't complain. I'm getting paid and everyone else is going to work and doing their part."
"Not everyone has a job, Peter," reminded Ashley. "Some people don't even want one and like being freeloaders."
"I know, but. Well.. Um," stuttered Peter.
"Don't you think you can be too hard on yourself?" suggested Ashley.
"No. It's obvious that I should be getting out of bed and go to work everyday, but I'm not because I'm weak on the inside. I have no actual excuse other than saying "I don't want to go to work"."
"You're not the only one who doesn't want to go to work everyday."
"I know. My aunt's told me that before, and I know it's true. But it doesn't make me feel better. I'm sorry if I hurt you by saying that, but it just doesn't."
"Don't be," reassured Ashley. "I'm not surprised you've heard it before. What I'm trying to say is you're not the only one who isn't sure about getting up everyday. It's hard for people to go to work, and I think you doing that is a sign of your strength. One would say staying in bed all day is a sign of someone taking the easy way out."
"Yeah, but I'm getting worked up so easily about it. I can't say I know many people who are as vulnerable as I am."
"But you're being honest with your feelings, Peter," clarified Ashley. "That takes a lot of courage. Sometimes being honest can be harder than your job."
Those words suddenly struck a chord with Peter. It wasn't easy for him to open up, and it made some of his moments of webbing up thieves look easy.
"Well," began Peter. "When you put it that way, you're not wrong."
"I'm glad to hear it," smiled Ashley. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about today?"
Peter sighed. He needed to get his thoughts together before he could start.
"Yeah," he said. "I just got to think for a second. Sorry."
"No, no, no. Go ahead," reassured Ashley.
Peter rolled his wrists under his chin as he tapped his foot. He needed to know what exactly he wanted to say before he could say anything.