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You hated being home alone. When your parents first told you that they had to go to a family friend’s wedding, you panicked. You pleaded to go with them, not because you had wanted to see the ceremony, but because you couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in the apartment all by yourself. Of course they had said no, just for the sake of airfare prices, but it wasn’t that much of a letdown since you didn’t even know the bride and groom anyways. Being the stubborn girl you were though, you were relentless with your parents about going, until they finally bribed you into keeping your mouth shut.
Not surprisingly, you spent half of the money they gave you on takeout food, since cooking for one is just too much of a hassle. Plus, cooking for just yourself was yet another reminder that you were completely alone in your apartment.
Grabbing the brown paper bag of food and a soda, you made your way over to your room. You plopped down on your bed, and began to flip through channels on your T.V. It didn’t take long to find a good movie, this one in particular was actually one of your favorites, so you were quite content, getting swept up into the storyline almost immediately.
Although, at some point while watching you felt a wave of loneliness hit you so abruptly, it made your heart sore. You all of a sudden craved the presence of another person with you, just to keep you company. Knowing this feeling wouldn’t go away on it’s own, you called the first person you wanted to be with at the moment. Your best friend: Peter Parker.
Tapping on his contact, and putting your phone to your ear, you waited patiently while listening to the dial go off every few seconds. Normally, he’d pick up within seconds, the sound of his eager voice greeting you was what you had expected. But after a couple of minutes of waiting, when he answered, he spoke in a low, hushed tone. “Hey [Y/N.]”
“Hey Peter, so my parents aren’t home now and I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to come over a-”
You stopped talking when you heard shuffling sounds and yelling on Peter’s line. Where was he? “Parker, are you okay? What’s going on?” You questioned, your voice heavy with concern.
As the phone was silent, you stood up from your bed and began pacing nervously, waiting for him to answer. Your worry only began to heighten every time a sound other than Peter’s voice emitted from your cell. You began to consider hanging up on him and dialing 911, but then you realized that would be pointless since you have no clue where he is. He definitely wasn’t at home judging from the sounds of cars every so often. Finally, after a few minutes of waiting anxiously, he responded. “Look [Y/N],” he sighed, a bit of guilt laced in his voice, “As much as I’d like to come over, I’m sorta caught up with some stuff right now.”
You frowned, not only because he was rain checking yet again- even more-so when he knew you were all alone, but also because you were distraught about this whole phone call. Why was he acting so weird? Peter had been acting off for a while now, but this was a whole new level for him.
“I’m sorry, I know how much you hate being home alone,” he whispered now, rushing through his words as if he just wanted to end the phone call, which made you even more upset. “I’ll make it up to you though, I promise.”
As you heard the three beeps that signaled Peter had hung up, tears began forming in your eyes, causing a stinging sensation. Closing them, you pressed your fingers against your eyelids, trying to wipe away the feeling. How could he be so indifferent with you?
Peter had been different for a while now, and you’ve grown so used to this side of him, you chose to ignore it for the most part, almost becoming blind to it. Almost. Every now and then, you would catch him in a lie while he tried to make an excuse up for why he didn’t have time to hangout with you, but you never dared to confront him about it. It just wasn’t your style. Well, it wasn’t your style until now. This was your last straw, and you promised yourself the next time you see him, you’d ask him what his problem is.
Although you didn’t want to admit it, you were scared Peter was just blowing you off because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore. Maybe he was getting sick of you, found you to be clingy, and he was just too sweet of a guy to ever say that to your face. It was a horrible thought that made your heart hurt every time you’d think about it.
You sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders hunched forward and your head in your hands just crying, drowning in your thoughts. Even though Peter had done this for a while now, it just dawned on you how much you missed him. The intense pain of loneliness you had felt before dulled out after a while but it still hurt. You somehow knew this discomfort you felt wouldn’t go away until you could see Peter again. You wanted to hear his melodic laugh as you told him a joke, and hell, you would sign up to be a comedian if it meant listening to that forever. You wanted to see his cute little grin when he’d walk up to your locker in the hallways at school, greeting you, his eyes lighting up when you smiled sweetly back at him. You missed the science banter between him and Ned, always being on his side, even if he was wrong. You couldn’t wait to see the next time he’d awkwardly stumble, and you as always, would laugh your ass off as you watched his cheeks bloom with a tint a of red. Don’t even get started on the way he speaks with such passion about the Stark internship. He was so dedicated to the job, it made you happy he found something that he loved so much. You missed everything about him.
As you dozed asleep, emotionally and physically drained, you had one last thought before you completely slipped unconscious.
I think I like Peter Parker.
You woke up to the sound of glass breaking outside of your bedroom. It sounded a bit muffled, but it was loud enough to wake you up. Maybe it was just a cup falling in the kitchen, you tried to reassure yourself. A few moments after the crash though, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps. They sounded a bit farther off outside your room, but you knew for sure that these noises were coming from your apartment.
Now fully alert, you swung your legs around to the side of your mattress and stood up cautiously, not wanting to make any noise. Your heart began to thump hard against your chest as you tiptoed silently to your door. A plan of escape began to form in your head, which had nothing to do with going through the main doors as an exit, but you wanted to see the intruder’s face before leaving. After all, if the police were to catch this guy when you notified them later on, they’re going to need a description. Grasping the doorknob, and giving it a slow turn, you smoothly swiveled your door open and poked your head out.
Your eyes scanned your apartment, quickly locating the invader. Judging by their height and broader shoulders, this person was a man. His back was facing you as he was tearing apart your living room, not even bothering to keep the noise level down.
That’s when a thought popped in your head. He seemed to have known that your parents would be gone, since he obviously isn’t being quite stealthy. This is someone you knew. Someone who was a neighbor in your apartment. He must have assumed you had gone away with your parents if he was being so careless at the moment.
Breaking yourself out of thought, you suddenly had a brilliant idea. It would just take being careful and waiting for the perfect moment. Grabbing your cell phone from the pocket of your hoodie, you opened the camera app, holding it up to the man. As you were waiting for the burglar to turn his face, something caught your eye on the phone screen. Squinting to try and make out what it was in the dark, your eyes widened as you put your hand over your mouth in horror when you realized what he was holding. It was a knife.
At this point, you honestly couldn’t care less if you shot a good picture of his face or not, you just wanted to get the hell out of there. Preparing yourself, you took a deep breath and with shaking fingers, pressed the camera button.
You knew what your mistake was seconds too late.
You kept the flash setting on.
The whole living room lit up in a bright light, the burglar whipping his head in your direction. This man definitely lived in your apartment, you’ve seen him around before, but you never learned his name.
When his cold, menacing eyes met yours, you felt the dread of your mistake wash over your whole body like a wave. It was the most horrible feeling you’ve ever felt, the realization of how dangerous this whole situation was, now that he knew you were here.
Thinking fast, you swiftly slammed your door shut, locked it, and pushed a chair up against it. You didn’t know how you even managed to do that, since your whole body was shaking due to the fear coursing through you like venom. You ran towards your window, beginning to turn all the safety locks your parents had installed on it.
“You can’t escape from me, [Y/N].” The man said, his voice so sinister sounding, you couldn’t help it as a chill ran down your spine. The way he addressed you was so… final. Almost as if he was one hundred percent sure he was going to catch you. Finalize you.
Heart rate quickening at that thought, you began using all the strength in your arms to pull up the window, but cursing loudly to yourself when it wouldn’t budge. The locks were jammed from all the years of never opening this window, you always opened the smaller one, but you were much too big to fit through that one.
“C’mon [Y/N], think, think, think,” muttering to yourself as your eyes scanned across your room, until they landed on baseball bat. You couldn’t help yourself as you let out a cry of relief, rushing over to the other side of your room to grab it.
Ironically enough, you always kept that baseball bat beside your bed in case anything like this were to happen. You could cry you felt so grateful that your past self was crazy-cautious enough to go through the measures of putting it there.
You were just about to swing the baseball bat into the window to smash it when you heard it.
First, it was just heavy pounding against your door.
Then it was the distinct sound of wood cracking under pressure.
He was breaking down your door.
Knowing your door would only take a few more blows, you hastily struck your window with the bat, the sound of breaking glass sharp in your ears. The cold city wind rushed in as soon as the window had been smashed, nipping at your nose, but you didn’t care.
You had to keep moving if you wanted to make it out of this alive.
You swung one of your legs out of the window, straddling it, and planted your foot on the fire escape platform. The glass was cutting into your thighs and hands but you didn’t feel anything at the moment. You were numb, the only thing that mattered was escaping.
As you began to bring your other leg around the window sill, you saw a shadow move in the corner of your eye. Your neck snapped to the side and you couldn’t help it as you let out a shrill shriek, seeing the man break through the door with a loud CRACK, not even pausing as he stalked towards you. You stumbled onto the fire escape, and strangely enough, the panic didn’t fully set in until now. Panicking lead to not being able to think straight, and not being able to think straight lead you to making possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made: you started running up the stairs instead of down.
A sob escaped your lips when the realization of this mistake hit you, but it was too late anyways. The man was behind you, already climbing the set of stairs you just finished going up. You didn’t dare to look back, fearing that you would freeze up if you didn’t like how close he was getting to you.
What would happen once you reached the top? There was nowhere to go once you got to the roof. Would the man quickly end your life, so there were no witnesses to his burglary, or would he make you suffer? A shudder ran through your body as you thought about the possible ways he could slowly kill you off.
You didn’t know whether or not this was the final chapter to your life, but one thing was for sure. You would keep fighting until there was no use. When you couldn’t run anymore, you would crawl. When you couldn’t crawl anymore, you would drag yourself inch by inch, still trying to get away. That’s just how you were. You were too stubborn to give up.
You were so swept up in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize you had reached the top. That’s when the fear that you had pushed away this whole time, tucking it into a corner of your mind, was rushing back with an overwhelmingly intenseness to it. The feeling was so strong, it knocked the wind out of you, leaving you a heaving mess, gasping for air. This was it. You were done for.
And he knew it.
The man chuckled, probably because you now stood in front of him, all thoughts of escape gone. You were like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide, moving sporadically, feet planted, body frozen in place. Not knowing where to go.
Ever since you were young, you’d always made fun of the stupid teenage girls in horror movies that just stood in place as the killer approached them. Now in their place, you gulped down the lump in your throat as you realized how they had felt.
The knife in his hand gleamed under the moonlight, now so foreboding-looking, you couldn’t help it as tears began to form in your eyes. Being the stubborn girl you’ve always been -not wanting to show any signs of weakness, you fought them, trying to not let any spill, but it was too late. They were already silently streaming down your cheeks.
As you started backing away from him, not daring to turn around in fear he would jab his knife in your back, it didn’t hit you until you felt the heel of your shoe step back into nothingness: this was the edge of the roof. You had gone your limit, and now there was truly nowhere to run. A sharp pain poked at your stomach, and you let out a whimper as you looked down to see the tip of the blade pointed at you. The man was now so close, your chests were almost touching, which made you shudder with disgust. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for him to make the final move of killing you. But that never happened.
“Now, why don’t we stop playing games,” he said, jabbing the knife against your skin a bit more, “And let’s start having some fun.” His disgustingly grimy hands skimmed the waistband of your jeans, tugging them slightly and you recoiled as much as you could. As he began unbottoning your pants, thoughts raced your mind so fast, it was hard to keep track of them.
It was the way he said it that made you have a feeling what he was about to do to you would be far worse than death. So cold and unforgiving. He was looking for another way to show that he had more power than you, more control. He wanted you to be scared and backed into a corner, that’s just the way his sick, twisted mind worked. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of this: you refused to.
“Fuck you.” You snarled, surprising even yourself with the way you managed to snap out those two words. It was so hatred-filled that if words could kill people, this man would be dead and gone. You spit in his face just to have one last accomplishment before you did it.
Before you let yourself fall back.
All you remember about falling was screaming. Screaming so loud you felt like you might rip your vocal cords in half. But you weren’t the only one screaming, the wind was too. It was whipping past your ears, blowing your hair in all different directions as you free-fell at a killer speed. This was it. You were going to die. You thought of your mom and dad, and your heart shattered in half as you realized they may think you had just wanted to commit suicide. If only they knew.
Just as you began squeezing your eyes shut, bracing for the impact, you felt an object ram into you from the side. You let out a gasp of air as the force of whatever hit you knocked the wind out of you. As silly as it sounded, you thought at first it may have been a bird that hit you, but when your eyes snapped open you knew it wasn’t any kind of animal that ran into you. It was a human. More specifically, it was Spider-Man. He saved you.
Noticing you were looking up at him, you felt his arm around your waist give you a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He said, his voice so quietly comforting, you felt your heart beat steady to a normal pace soon after his words. Maybe it was just your imagination, or maybe you had misheard him due to the whistling of the wind as he webbed between buildings, but you could’ve sworn he added in, “I’ve always got you, [Y/N].”