hey, y'all. it's been such a long week lol
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The next morning was somewhat of a blur. He remembered waking up for school and getting ready. He only had to wake up a few kids, since Bella woke up most of them. He made them breakfast and they left for school.
They passed the elementary school on the way to the middle and high school, so they dropped the kids off and continued on. The middle school Bella went to was right across from his high school, so they parted ways and made it to their own schools.
It was somewhat irrational, but he felt like everyone's eyes were on him as he passed. There were definitely some people who knew what happened since it was a small town, but not everyone could've known. Yet, that's what it felt like.
He got to his locker to see Spencer and Adam by it. Immediately when he walked up they asked him where he'd been and why he never answered any texts. It all seemed somewhat muffled though like their voices were just a whisper bouncing off the back of his mind.
Rather than answering any of their questions, he just said, "Aunt May died."
It hurt to say; it was like it made it more real to say it out loud. Of course, he knew it was true and it hurt, but it felt weird. He hated it. He hated that he had to say it–that he was able to say it truthfully.
Spencer and Adam looked shocked and started offering their condolences, but Peter simply nodded half-heartedly and walked away. He didn't want condolences. He wanted May back.
Classes were a blur. He was too lost in his own head to focus on anything. The teachers didn't call on him or try to get him to focus though. They must've known.
He almost wished they'd call on him and treat him like normal. Maybe then he could pretend everything was normal.
Lunch came quickly and he walked to his locker with a neutral expression. His mind continued to wander, even as Caleb approached from behind him. That's why when Caleb came up and suddenly grabbed his shoulder, he wasn't expecting it and jumped.
"Hey there, loser, " he smugly said, a smirk on his face.
"Not today, Caleb, " Peter replied quickly, his voice surprisingly cold. Caleb even looked surprised for a second before recovering.
Ignoring Peter, he continued, "You know, Friday was a great day. You didn't show up and I thought that you might've finally done the deed and you'd be six feet under by now, but I guess not." Caleb walked in front of Peter, blocking his escape to the lunchroom.
Yet Peter wasn't about to walk away. It felt like the hole already in his chest tore open even bigger at what Caleb said. A pit formed in his stomach and a sad frown settled on his face. It was a cruel reminder of what happened to May.
And for that, Peter was also unbelievably angry. His expression quickly turned into a hardened one and he felt his face turn red. Caleb didn't know what had happened–that much was obvious–but Peter was blinded by his anger to realize that. All he could think of was May and how Caleb had practically made fun of how she died.
"Shut up and leave me the hell alone, " Peter fumed.
"You think you can talk to me like that, Parker? You can't do shit and we both know it, " Caleb taunted in reply.
It was like someone else had taken over Peter's mind, and he couldn't stop himself from talking. He didn't want to stop though, even if he knew he'd get hurt. "Back off, Caleb. Seriously."
Caleb stepped closer and opened his mouth to speak, a sarcastic grin on his face. But within a second, he decided against it and just pushed Peter back. Peter stumbled backward but somehow managed to stay upright.
Without a second thought, Peter pushed him right back using most of his strength. Yet Caleb barely even stumbled and when his face turned into one of pure rage, Peter finally came to his senses.
What the hell was he thinking? He couldn't fight Caleb! His size and strength were nothing compared to Caleb's. Now he was in for it, all because he was blinded by the thought of May.
Caleb instantly recovered and stepped up, grabbing the front of Peter's shirt with one hand. There was no way out of this now. At least, no good way.
Peter mentally prepared for the hit, only for a teacher to speak up from behind him.
"Boys! Are you crazy? Get to the office, now!" The teacher ushered them both to the office, Caleb glaring the whole way. They sat in two chairs on opposite sides of the waiting room until the principal came out.
He brought Caleb in first and heard what sounded like Caleb trying to argue. Peter rolled his eyes at how dumb he was. When he walked out, he looked pissed and glared at Peter once again before leaving.
Then Peter was called in. The principal, Mrs. Florian, looked disappointed as Peter sat down.
"Peter, you know it's not okay to fight in school. Now, I realize you didn't start the fight, but you were still involved so I have to punish you. Since I don't believe you instigated it and because of your current situation, you won't be suspended, but you will have two weeks of detention and I'll have to call the orphanage and inform them."
Peter sighed, not only at the fact that he'd have detention for two weeks and that the Millers would find out, but also that he referred to the death of his last family member as a "situation". It ticked him off a bit but he didn't do anything about it. He numbly nodded his head in response.
Mrs. Florian continued, "I'm sorry for your loss, truly. I know what it's like to lose family. If you need anything, feel free to come to talk to me." She smiled sincerely, and she felt like one of the few people that actually cared. The only other he could think of was Emma, the nice police officer that brought him to the orphanage.
"Thank you," was all Peter responded with. Mrs. Florian must've gotten the message that he didn't want to talk about it and started calling the orphanage.
It sounded like Mr. Miller answered the phone and Peter grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to facing them after last night, especially now that he was in trouble once again. His hand subconsciously rubbed over the bruise on his arm, currently hidden by his shirt.
Mrs. Florian let him go, telling him to leave for the day. She said they weren't able to pick him up, so he started the dreaded walk there.
The walk gave him all too much time to think–and panic–about what would be waiting for him when he arrived there. The cold air bit at his exposed hands and face. A grimace crossed his face again while thinking about what awaited; at least the weather gave him an excuse to wear long-sleeved shirts.
He wished the walk was miles longer, for only half an hour later, his hand rested on the cold handle of the door that was currently holding back hell. Hope tried to convince him that maybe it was a one-time slip-up when Mrs. Miller had hit him, but he knew better than to hope.
Not without one last deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Already, Mr. and Mrs. Miller were waiting in the foyer, and simply put, they looked pissed.
"First day back at school and you got in a fight, huh?" Mr. Miller immediately said. "I hope this isn't a common occurrence." His words were quiet and didn't sound bad, but his cold, accusing tone said otherwise.
Peter shook his head, awkwardly standing a few feet from the door.
"Oh, so you just decided to get in a fight only three days after you get here. Are you trying to make us look bad? 'Cause that's sure as hell what it seems like," Mrs. Miller scoffed, the same scowl from last night on her face.
Peter opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but Mr. Miller spoke first. "How do you think that makes us look when we've had a kid for half a week and he's already in trouble? It would already be hard enough to find someone that would want you, but now you're making it worse. Why in the hell would anyone want you now?" He raised his voice at the last sentence, and Peter flinched.
"I didn't start the fight. It was hardly even a fight; all that happened was he–"
Peter was cut off by the thundering of Mrs. Miller's heels, and within a split second, she slapped him. Peter's body swayed to the side slightly, but he stayed in place and his hand moved up to his cheek.
"You don't talk back to us!" Mrs. Miller hit his midsection, and he folded over, clutching at his stomach and stumbling back. It wasn't a hard hit, but she hit him square in the liver.
Despite it being only half past noon, he could smell the alcohol in her breath and he wrinkled his nose. He felt like throwing up, but he pushed the feeling down.
"What you need is discipline. Maybe then you'll learn not to be causing trouble," Mr. Miller snapped, stepping up to him like Mrs. Miller had and punched him in the face. Mr. Miller turned out to be left-handed, so his wedding band cut into his cheek, leaving a small gash.
Peter breathed out harshly and stumbled back once again, this time falling into the wall. Mr. Miller pursued him, hitting him in the jaw, his ring making yet another cut. The vile taste of blood filled his mouth and his vision was swimming. He squeezed his eyes shut in foolish hope that it would make it stop, but the dizziness didn't leave him yet.
He was hit once more on the left side of his face. They said something else but his ears felt like they were filled with cotton. His ragged breathing and their muffled footsteps up the stairs were all that he could hear.
It felt too hot. He needed to change into a t-shirt. With dragging feet, he stumbled his way into the boys' room and changed into a short-sleeved shirt, then made his way to the bathroom, tears starting to run down his face now that he was alone.
Staring back at him was a boy with tears and blood dripping down his face and blood coating his teeth. There were irritated, red spots dotting his face, soon to turn into swollen bruises.
It didn't look like him. He rinsed his mouth, spitting out a couple of mouthfuls of blood, and cleaned off his face. The cuts weren't too deep, so he wrapped up some toilet paper and held it against the cuts until they stopped bleeding. It wasn't a great solution, but as of right now, it was his only one.
He didn't look much better afterward, and he'd look much worse tomorrow, but he couldn't convince himself to care.
After cautiously walking back into the foyer to get his backpack and bringing it back into his room, he laid down and stared at the ceiling. His stomach grumbled a bit, but he made no move to get up.
Why'd May have to leave him? Why'd she leave him here by himself, stuck in this nightmare? He couldn't do this, not without her. He felt like he couldn't breathe and tears blurred his vision.
What would May think if she saw this? Would she still have left him if she knew what would happen to him? Probably. Part of him hated it. That she had selfishly left him by himself, no warning. But then guilt turned on him, making him hate that he even thought that at all.
Moving his hands to cover his face and wipe his eyes, he wished he could block every thought from his head. But he couldn't. So he did the next best thing: distract himself.
He got up and made his way to the kitchen, flinching slightly every time the old wooden floor creaked and subconsciously looking up towards the stairs.
Using some of the food he bought, he made himself a sandwich and sat down to continue reading the computer-science book, easily getting sucked into it.
The hours passed, Peter only turning his attention away from the book a few times, and soon the front door opened and the familiar quiet chatter of the kids once again filled the foyer and flooded into the living room where he sat.
He still had yet to finish the book but was getting close so he settled for finishing it another time.
He heard the kids go into their rooms or into the toy room, yet immediately when he stepped into the foyer, Bella gasped, having yet to go anywhere.
To avoid having the kids see yet since eventually, it would be inevitable, Bella led him back into the living room where they sat on the couch. She seemed to observe him with knowing eyes, her gaze lingering longer on the cuts and swollen, soon-to-be bruises.
"What happened?" she asked after a minute.
"I got in a fight at school and had to leave for the day," he answered quietly. He shrugged, not having enough energy to explain what had actually happened at school and when he got here.
Bella nodded, and Peter continued, "It didn't help that they were already mad at me last night, too." At Bella's confused face, he added, "I got back late."
She nodded once again, seeming to think about what to say. "We've all learned to pretty much avoid them. It's not too bad unless you get in trouble, which I guess you know," she nonchalantly informed him, her voice quiet.
The way she said it made his emotions rage inside him. But over everything, it made him sad that she could say it so nonchalantly because this was normal for them.
With a sigh, clearing his head, he stood up and started towards his room, Bella following behind him.
When the kids saw his face, they got worried as well, but he brushed them off, falsely reassuring them that it didn't hurt at all and he was okay. It was a half-assed lie, but they were too young to realize.
For a few hours, he put all his attention on the kids. He played with them, listened to their stories, and helped with their homework until dinner. Soon, he would have to go back to work and wanted to spend as much time with them until then. Despite only knowing them for a few days, he was starting to get attached to them.
For dinner, he made everyone chicken and mashed potatoes, which they ate pretty quickly. Another wave of sadness washed over him at the thought of how much they were eating before he got here but he pushed it away. His feelings could haunt him later.
Eventually, he figured he'd regret pushing all his feelings down and burying them, but for now, he couldn't find it in him to care.
After dinner, the kids seemed to relax a bit, and not long after, they were laying down and falling asleep.
As he laid in his spot on the floor, he realized it would have been his turn to sleep in a bed. He missed sleeping in one. His old bed with Iron Man covers from when he was seven since he'd never bothered to replace them and his fluffy pillows. The warmth that seemed to surround him when he had to get up for school. But he couldn't bring himself to take one of the beds from the kids.
Sleep tried to elude him that night. Of course, part of it was because his thin blanket did virtually nothing to stop the cold. But also, his thoughts stuck to the Millers and his eyes wouldn't get heavy. Only after what must've been two hours, though he didn't bother checking, did he finally fall asleep.
A loud ringing sounded from under his pillow, signifying it was time to get up for school. His head was killing him and everything was sore. Whether it was from getting hit yesterday or from sleeping on the floor was a mystery, but he didn't think it mattered much anyway.
He could feel the bruises that had formed overnight and hoped they wouldn't be too obvious. If he was lucky, maybe Caleb would tell people that he had caused them.
His own thinking surprised him for a second. That he was thinking of how to cover for the Millers.
His alarm went off again, startling him, and this time he made sure to hit off rather than snooze. Reluctantly, he got up and woke up the boys.
It didn't take long for him to get ready and make breakfast, and soon enough they were all on their way to school.
The day was actually pretty normal. Spencer and Adam asked him what happened with Caleb yesterday, and apparently, there were rumors going around that the bruises were from him.
When they relayed this information to him, he just shrugged. Caleb would know it's a lie, but his ego would be too big to admit it so he figured it would probably be fine. Caleb did give him weird looks the rest of the day though.
After school, he had detention, but he didn't mind. He had chemistry homework, so he had time to get that done and it worked out well enough. It was pretty easy considering his interest in chemistry already.
Detention only lasted an hour and the walk back seemed shorter than normal. Despite his worries, it was actually a pretty average day.
The rest of the day flew by with the kids, and before he knew it he was once again laying in the dark trying to fall asleep.
He wished every day could be like this. It wasn't necessarily good, but he had nothing to complain about. But he knew it wouldn't last. In this hell, it never could.