Alright so long story short it's like 1 AM and this is just an experiment. This is going to be based on what my life at school and home is like usually. I've been feeling awful lately and I hope this might help me with that. Sorry if anything doesn't make sense, my mind is just so jumbled up and confused.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, or AC/DC.
"Why?" I whisper to myself. I groan into my pillow, checking the time once again. 3:18 AM. Of course. I don't know why I even bother to try and get enough sleep. It's not like I can actually fall asleep before morning strikes. I sigh, defeated, listening as the soft waves sound fades out into nothing. Another hour. I reach out and press the button on my noise machine and set it for another sleepless hour of waves. I close my eyes, trying to visualize the waves lapping at the shore, and it does help, at least a little bit.
My eyes snap open at the sound of my neighbors, screaming at the poor kids who live with them. This noise wakes up another neighbor's dog, who barks and barks all day long. Looks like I'm not getting sleep anytime soon. I grip my pillow tightly, smashing my head into it until I have a pounding headache. My muscles relax, making me drop the pillow and fall into it again. My head turns to the side, and some stray tears leak from my eyes. My chest feels tight, and my stomach churns with the anxiety of having school tomorrow. Or, rather, today. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, and wait for exhaustion to take over.
"Peter! Get up! You slept through your alarm again," Aunt May yells. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to yell. But you need to get up. Don't want you missing school!" I nod, half awake. I go straight to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face to wake myself up. I get dressed, putting on the same sweatshirt I wear everyday, a dark blue one with a small yellow design on it, and some sweatpants.
"Peter, you're not actually wearing that to school, are you?" Aunt May frowns at me, questioning my choice in clothing but letting me go nonetheless. I grab my bag, put in my earbuds, and walk out the door. "Wait, did you have breakfast?" She questions.
"No..." I mumble. "It makes me sick to eat so early." She gives me a concerned look, but quickly brushes it off.
"Alright then. Be sure to eat something at school then. Love you." This time I'm out the door for real, and I start the walk to school. On my walk, I only listen to one song, "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC. The rest of it is complete silence. Well, as silent as NYC can get.
I eventually reach the school, and I walk into the cafeteria to sit by myself until they let us in. Every morning, the school doesn't let us into the hallways until 7:10. I check my phone. 7:03. The time in the morning always passes the slowest, having nobody around to hang out with. I would talk to Ned, but he made some new friends in his gym class, and now he spends his mornings with them. MJ doesn't even get to school until 7:20, and by that point it's better to just go to class. So in the mornings, I'm alone.
When the bell finally rings, and the hallways open up to the students, I go straight to class. Even though class doesn't start for another 15 minutes, I don't have anybody to hang out with, and I don't want to roam the halls and risk running into some teacher that will try to stop me to talk. So I go to class. I'm the only one in there for awhile, not even the teacher bothering to be there until she absolutely has to. So, once again, I'm alone.
History is boring, but at least Ned's in my class. We pass the time while our teacher drones on about the notes we took and the test next class, but nobody's really paying attention. Eventually, though, the bell rings and we can leave.
Biology's next, and as much as I love science, this has got to be one of the worst classes ever. And, even worse, I don't have anybody to talk to during class. I stare at the board, feeling my eyes droop. I'm so tired, I could fall asleep right here. But I know I shouldn't, I have to get good grades and try not to make my teachers all hate me.
"Peter! Tell me, what is the powerhouse of the cell?" I sit straight up at the question. Panicking slightly, I rack my brain for the answer. I know this one.
"Mitochondria," I state, confident in my answer.
"Good. Now class..." once again, I find myself struggling to stay awake. I glance at the clock. Only 3 minutes left. Sighing, I put my head down and wait for the bell.
English. I hesitate before walking in. Maybe it would be better to skip? Before I can make a decision, I'm pushed in by some classmates joking and laughing together.
"Hey, Penis Parker, where's your project?" Flash bellows, elbowing past me. "Or were you too poor to build it?" He laughs obnoxiously. I did do my project, in fact I had brought it in this morning. Earlier, I had felt pretty good about my work. But now, looking around at all my projects, I get jitters. What if mine's not good enough? Ohhh man, I am totally gonna fail...
The presentations start strong with a kid who made a costume. He put it on, showing off his sewing skills to the class. Flash snickers from the back of the room, but he quickly shuts up after the kid, his name was Robin, passed around grape juice. And for the next few presentations, he's quiet, distracted by his small cup of juice.
"Alright, I'd like to hear from Peter next. Do you have your project here?" I gulp, nodding wordlessly. "Ok, then will you go up?" I slowly stand up, grabbing my small model.
"Whenever you're ready." I take a deep breath, and start my presentation. Wait, no, something wasn't right. I was actually just standing there in silence, causing a whisper to ripple through the classroom. I clear my throat, try to speak, but no sound comes out. Now I was shivering with fear. Who would believe that I, the Spiderman, was paralyzed with fear while giving an English presentation, of all things.
"Umm... I, uh, I forgot what I was going to say." I cringe slightly, but start giving random facts about my model, stuttering through the whole thing. At one point Flash yawns loudly, causing the other students to giggle and my face turns red, even more red than it already was. I finish the presentation, barely holding back a panic attack. My breaths were coming in rapid bursts, and I felt rather faint. I sit down, and the only applause I get is from the teacher. I put my head down for the rest of the class, ignoring the other presentations.
After that torturous class had ended, I headed to the cafeteria to sit with Ned and MJ for lunch. Ned had his packed lunch, MJ had a small salad with an ice cream from the school, and I had my usual: nothing. By this point, I hadn't eaten anything at all yet today, and I was starving. But I couldn't eat. Eating makes me feel sick, so nauseous that I feel like throwing up. So, no food for me.
"Can I come over after school? I've got a new Lego Star Wars kit I'm dying to build!"
"Sure Ned," I smile, but it quickly falters. "Actually, you can't. I've got something I have to go to today." Ned nods, understanding.
"Actually, no," I admit. "I have an appointment."
"For what?" Ned wondered.
"Yeah, Parker, tell us!" MJ butts in.
"I have my first therapy session today." They nod in understanding.
"Oh yeah, so that's today? Well, then good luck," MJ said.
"Thanks." The bell rings, and I groan. "I'm really not feeling geometry today."
"Then skip," MJ suggested. "Just don't get caught in the hallways without a pass. Here, I have one from last week. They won't stop you if they see it in your hand."
"Wow, thanks MJ, but I don't think I'm gonna skip class. Thanks anyway though."
"Yeah, sure, whatever. See you losers later."
I headed to geometry, arriving just as the bell rang. The class is easy, and I get through the assigned work quickly. The rest of the class I have free time, so I lay my head down and close my eyes, trying to block out the noises of the room. But, before I can fall asleep, the bell rings, and I grab my bag and run out the door.
I walk home, my pace a little faster than usual because of my anxiety about the therapy session. What would I say? What do I want to talk about? Should I be super honest? What if I went up to her, saying "Hi, I'm Peter, and I want to kill myself,"? No, that might be a little too honest. Or maybe I could just try to focus on the most mundane part of my problems, my trouble with falling asleep? Yeah, maybe getting more sleep could help.
"Peter? Are you home already? I made you a snack, eat it now so we aren't late to your appointment," May smiled. I dropped by bag off by the door, walking into the kitchen.
"I'm not hungry," I mumble. She frowns, her eyes filled with concern.
"Peter, honey, you have to eat something. You've been skin and bones lately, it's not good for you." I roll my eyes, but grab a slice of the apple she cut up and eat it anyway. It's crunchy, and that's about it. Nothing tastes like it's supposed to anymore. But, I don't want Aunt May to worry, so I give her a smile and a thumbs up, before heading to my room.
I close the door, listening to the muffled click of the knob. Sitting down on my bed, head in hands, I wait for my aunt to come in. And, before too long, she's knocking on the door, telling me that it's time to go.
"Hurry, Peter, we don't want to be late!" She calls through the door.
"Coming May!" I respond. I don't want to go. Why did it have to be today? I'm not ready for this, I'm going to screw it up somehow, how did I even get myself into this? Closing my eyes, I bring up the memory.
"Peter, I have to talk to your, uh, aunt. Please wait here, and I'll be back soon." I nod, waiting for the doctor to close the door. He had looked almost disturbed, like he had seen something that chilled him to the bone. I wonder what he needed my aunt for. I hope it's not shots, I really hope it's not. I hate needles. They freak me out, even looking at them makes me anxious. Interrupting my thoughts, the door opens, revealing Aunt May and the doctor. Aunt May has tears on her cheeks, and the widest eyes I've ever seen. She didn't say anything, just stood there, unblinking, staring at me. The doctor cleared his throat, tapping his clipboard with a pen.
"It says here that you've been feeling down lately, is that correct?" He questions.
"Yeah..." I answer apprehensively. My heart sinks down into my stomach. Oh no, oh no no no no...
"And you've had days where you feel like there's no hope?" I nod slowly. "And, you've had thoughts that you'd be better off dead?" I stare at him, unsure of how to answer. Do I tell the truth and get a long speech about mental health, or lie and said I made a mistake? The thoughts bounce around my head, and I feel pressured to answer now.
"Yes." My voice is no louder than a whisper, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear May weeping from the corner, and I immediately regret my choice. Now she's going to be upset about it.
"Alright. I recommend seeing a therapist, and having a depression screening. I'll leave you two here for a moment while I go get your shots." I cringe at the very thought of having to get those shots. Needles.
"You could've told me, you know," May said, her voice wavering and slightly hoarse. "I could've gotten you help sooner, or helped you through it." I open my eyes, but refuse to look up at her.
"I don't need any help. I'm fine, I can handle it, I-"
"You're not fine, though. Peter, you know I love you, and I want you to be happy. Please just let me get help, if you don't like it I won't make you continue. Please, let me help you."
"Ok, for today I have two shots for you. This first one is for meningococcal, and this second one is your flu shot." The doctor takes the disinfecting pad, rubbing it over my upper arm. I bite down on my lip, hard, squeezing my eyes shut again. I clench my fists, feeling the needle slide underneath my skin. And then another disinfecting pad, this time on my other arm, followed by another needle. Then, it's over. Flanked by my two matching Tweety Bird bandaids they always give you, I stand up, letting out a shaky breath I didn't know I had been holding.
By the time my little "flashback" is over, we're there. We walk into the building, up a small spiral staircase leading to a waiting room. It looks like this place used to be someone's house.
"Peter Parker?" A young lady with dark brown curly hair comes to the door. My head shoots up, looking at her with wide eyes. "Will you come with me please?" I follow her silently to another room, this time with a couch and bright decorations on the walls. She closes the door, looking at me.
"Hello Peter. I'm Tessa, and I'll be your therapist. In this room, I want you to feel safe. You can tell me anything, and I can't tell anyone else, unless someone's safety is at risk. Now, is there anything you'd like to talk about?"
"Yes," I say. "Yes, yes, yes. I feel like I don't want to keep on living. I wish I was dead."
Except I didn't say that. I never even mentioned it. Instead, I talked about how I can't sleep the whole time. Which, to be fair, was an issue. Of course, part of it was that I wasn't in bed, I was swinging above the streets of Queens. But I didn't mention that part.
"Look, Peter, I don't think you really need to see a therapist." Ohh, if she only knew. "You seem to be doing ok, maybe a little high on the anxiety scale, but otherwise fine." Yeah, maybe 'cause I didn't talk about my depression. "Have a nice day!"
"You too," I mumbled, plastering a grin on my face, which disappeared as soon as I was out of sight.
"How'd it go?" May asked as we walked back to the train station, to take us home.
"It was ok," I shrugged. She hummed, smiling at me.
"Well, I'm glad you tried it." I nod, waiting for the train. When it arrives, we get on, and stand in silence for the entire ride.
Alright. It's over. That was basically supposed to be what my life is like, but obviously some things are changed. The therapist thing and terrible presentation are both real things that happened to me though.
Anyway, I'm not sure if I should write another chapter. Let me know in a PM or review if you think I should either leave it here or add another chapter. Thanks.