Web of Lies

The darkness clings to Aleksei Sytsevich as he slowly regains consciousness, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin—or what should have been his skin. But something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

His eyes flick open to nothing but shadows. He's lying on a cold steel table, the weight of his body pressing down like he's been buried under a mountain. His arms, his legs—they're impossibly heavy, alien to him, as though they've been grafted with stone. He can't move.

"What—What is this?" His voice comes out hoarse, raw, as if he's been screaming. But no, he hasn't. Not yet.

The lights flicker on, harsh and blinding. The sudden brightness sears his eyes, and when his vision clears, he sees them—two scientists in white coats, hovering near the door, fear plain in their eyes.

"Mr. Sytsevich," one of them says, his voice shaking slightly. "The experiments worked. Your efforts have paid off."

Paid off? Aleksei blinks, disoriented, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He tries to lift his hand, but it feels like iron shackled to the table. He glances down and what he sees sends a wave of nausea rolling through him. His skin—it's no longer skin. It's like stone, gray and hard, ridged like a rhino's hide. His muscles bulge grotesquely beneath it, far beyond anything human.

"No... no, this isn't right..." His voice is rising, panic creeping in. He thrashes against the restraints, feeling metal groan under his strength. "What have you done to me?!"

The scientists back away, fear spreading across their faces like a plague. One of them, trembling, reaches for a button on the wall. "Mr. Sytsevich, please, if you would just calm down—"

"NO!" Aleksei roars, his voice deep and guttural, something almost inhuman. The restraints creak louder as his rage fuels his strength. He glances at his reflection in the glass panel on the wall, and what he sees isn't Aleksei anymore. It's a monster. His body is a grotesque mass of muscle and hardened skin, and his head—his head is capped with a massive, jagged horn, like that of a rhino.

"This... this is NOT what you said it would be!" His heart is pounding, a drumbeat of fury in his chest. His vision swims with red, the blood roaring in his ears. "This is NOT what I wanted!"

Suddenly, the intercom crackles to life, and a calm, measured voice echoes through the sterile room. "Mr. Sytsevich, I understand your concerns, but this is exactly what you asked for—unrivaled strength and power. You are now unstoppable."

Aleksei's blood turns to ice. That voice—he knows that voice. It belongs to the man who promised him everything, the man who twisted his words and turned him into this living nightmare. "You!" Aleksei snarls, spittle flying from his lips. "You did this to me! You made me a monster!" His voice reverberates through the room like thunder, shaking the walls. "I'll kill you for this! I'll tear you apart!"

There's a cold, detached pause on the other end. "I'm sorry to hear that, Aleksei. Goodbye."

The intercom clicks off, and the door swings open, soldiers flooding in with weapons drawn. They form a line, rifles trained on him, but there's a hesitation in their eyes—they know what he's capable of.

"You think you can stop me?!" Aleksei roars, and with a terrifying burst of power, he rips the restraints from the table as if they were made of paper. Metal screeches, and for a brief, eerie moment, there's silence. All eyes are on him—this hulking behemoth of flesh and stone. He slowly rises from the table, his head brushing the ceiling. His hands grope over his head, feeling the horn jutting out like a crown of death.

"You'll die for this, Mr. Green."

The soldiers panic. Gunfire erupts, a cacophony of bullets tearing through the air, but it's useless. The rounds ricochet off Aleksei's hide with a hollow thud. He laughs—a dark, twisted laugh—and with a single swipe of his massive arm, he sends two men crashing into the wall like broken dolls. Blood splatters across the sterile white walls as their bones shatter on impact.

Chaos erupts. Screams fill the room as Aleksei charges forward, his horn goring through a soldier's chest with a sickening crunch. His body moves with unnatural speed for its size, barreling through anyone who dares to stand in his way. He's a wrecking ball of flesh, blood, and rage, every step shaking the foundation of the building.

The scientists try to run, but they're too slow. He catches one by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The man's legs kick uselessly as Aleksei's grip tightens. "You made me this way," Aleksei growls, his voice a low rumble. "You made me a monster." With a sickening snap, the man's neck breaks, and his body goes limp.

Gunfire and screams blend into the background as Aleksei tears through the facility, each death fueling his rage, each life snuffed out like a candle in the wind. He leaves no one alive. No one escapes.

As he steps out into the night, the facility behind him is nothing but a graveyard of shattered bodies and broken walls. Aleksei breathes in the cold air, his breath steaming in the night like some great beast. His eyes burn with the singular thought of revenge.

With his newfound strength, he's going to make the man responsible pay. And anyone who dares stand in his way will be crushed underfoot.

There's no turning back. Aleksei Sytsevich is no more. Only the Rhino remains.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, just substitute X with Y, and the equation solves itself. See? Not that hard once you break it down," I say, explaining as simply as I can. Gwen sighs, setting her pencil down in defeat.

"You're smart, Peter. Smart enough to know that no amount of studying is going to save me from bombing this test." She smiles, but there's a weariness in her voice. "I'm hopeless."

I shake my head, scratching the back of my neck, trying to hide the faint sting from last night's encounter with a guy swinging a metal bat. "You're far from hopeless, Gwen. Once you get the formula down, everything else will start to click. It's just about cracking that first layer."

She twists a strand of her blond hair around her finger, giving me a sideways glance. "I know Mr. Harrington asked you to tutor me, but don't you have better things you could be doing right now? I feel like I'm wasting your time."

For a second, I'm caught off guard, just staring at her. Gwen's beauty always has a way of making time slow down, even if I'm usually too shy to say it. I snap back to reality, wincing as I subtly grab my side. "Trust me, Gwen, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now," I say, trying to sound as warm and sincere as possible.

She stands up, walking over to her nightstand. From the drawer, she pulls out an old photo. "Remember this?" she asks, handing it to me. It's a picture of the four of us: Gwen, Harry, me, and...Mary Jane. My stomach tightens. It feels like a lifetime ago. We're all grinning like idiots at some beach house, sunburned and carefree. I can almost hear Harry's squeals when we watched a horror movie that night and he had to get picked up early because he wet himself. Good times.

"You still have this?" I say, taking the photo, my thumb tracing the edges. "We all look... so young. So innocent."

"Yeah. And kinda cute," she adds, smiling wistfully. "It's been forever since I've seen Mary Jane. She moved to California, and we just... lost touch. Funny how things change, huh?"

I hand the picture back, nodding slowly. "Yeah. People move on. I guess it happens. We all did in some way."

There's a shift in her expression—her smile fades, replaced by something softer, more reflective. "I know I got distant. We all did, really. I never apologized for that. Maybe I should have, but... I guess we just drifted. I'm sorry, Peter."

I blink at her, surprised. "For what? You didn't do anything wrong. Life happens, Gwen. We grew up. There's no blame in that."

She sits back down, her shoulders sagging with a mix of relief and nostalgia. "You've always been a good guy, Peter. You and Harry... it's nice that you guys stayed friends. After everything."

I scoff lightly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah, well, we haven't exactly been 'best buds' lately. Things have been... complicated."

Gwen yawns and lies back on the bed, arms stretched above her head, looking more relaxed. "You'll figure it out. Guys always do. You argue, then a day later it's like nothing happened. It's one of those things I envy about being a guy."

I close my notebook and pack it into my bag, trying not to think too hard about Harry. "I hope so. He's my best friend. I don't want to lose him."

I sling my bag over my shoulder, but Gwen props herself up on her elbows. "You leaving already? Got plans for the rest of the night?"

I hesitate, fumbling for an excuse. "Well, it's Friday. I figured you've probably got more exciting things to do than spend it with me."

"That's true," she teases with a smirk, "but since you've been helping me, maybe you should join me and my friends later. We're going to karaoke. You know, as a thank you."

"K-Karaoke?" I stammer, my hand knocking my phone off the bed. I bend down to grab it, trying to hide how flustered I am. "I don't wanna impose."

She laughs softly, sitting up again. "Peter, it's not pity. I want you to come. We can catch up, for real this time."

Her offer makes something warm stir in me. A part of me—a part I don't often get to be—wants to say yes. Peter Parker doesn't get much time for fun. There's always something to worry about, always someone to save. But right now, my phone is silent, no alerts flashing across the police scanner. Maybe... maybe I could be Peter for just a few hours.

But then the familiar weight of responsibility settles in my chest. I glance down at the phone again. "I don't know," I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

She tilts her head, her eyes searching mine. "Come on, Pete. There's nothing wrong with having a little fun every once in a while. You deserve it."

Her words hang in the air, and I find myself considering them. Gwen's right—what's the harm in having a little fun? Just for tonight. Just for a few hours.

I smile, a small, almost shy smile. "Okay. Karaoke it is."

The door creaks open slightly, and in steps Captain Stacy. It’s been a while since I saw him as Peter, though as Spider-Man, we last crossed paths during that scuffle with Mac, aka Scorpion—real pain in my ass.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Parker. Long time no see,” Captain Stacy greets, his voice warm and familiar. That gentleness in his tone—Gwen definitely gets it from him. “How are you, son?”

I shuffle awkwardly. “I’m good, sir. Just… trying to do better.”

He smiles, a kind but knowing look in his eyes, like he’s sizing me up in a way only dads do. “Glad to hear it.”

“Dad,” Gwen interjects, shooting him a dramatic pout. “We’re trying to study. Can you give us some privacy, please?”

He chuckles, clearly unfazed. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to check who’s been up here spending all this time with my Gwenny bear.”

Gwen’s reflex is immediate—she grabs a pillow and hurls it at him, her face a mix of annoyance and affection. He laughs, dodging it easily. “Nice try.” He grins at her.

“Dad. You haven’t called me that in forever,” Gwen protests, clearly flustered. “You’re just saying it to embarrass me in front of Peter. Peter please just ignore him he’s just trying to be funny.”

I can’t help but laugh nervously. “Got it… Gwenny bear.”

Her eyes widen, and she hides her face behind a pillow. Captain Stacy roars with laughter. “That’s the spirit, Peter. Gotta keep her on her toes.”

“You guys are the worst,” Gwen mumbles, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Captain Stacy grins, his gaze softening as he looks at us. “I’m glad to see you two hanging out again. Always thought you were a good kid, Peter. Can’t say the same about some of her new friends.”

Yeah, I could name one in particular.

Flash Thompson.

“Thanks, sir,” I say, and he gives me a nod, the look in his eyes saying more than his words ever could.

Gwen, trying to deflect, speaks up. “Dad, Peter and I are heading to karaoke later. That cool?”

His smile is easy, but there’s a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. “Sure, just don’t stay out too late. And for god’s sake, don’t bring that blond idiot back here… what was his name? Dash? Still haven’t gotten the smell out of the bathroom.”

“Flash, Dad.” Gwen rolls her eyes. “And I won’t.”

Captain Stacy pinches his nose mockingly, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh. I don’t know which is more alarming to me, the fact that Flash has been to Gwen’s house, or the fact that he takes really stinky poops.

Gwen stands and gives her dad a quick hug. “Love you, pops.”

“Love you too, kiddo.” He ruffles her hair in that absentminded, affectionate way only a dad can. “Take care of her while you’re out, Peter.”

“I will, sir,” I reply, and with a final nod, he’s out the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Gwen sighs and looks over at me, half-apologetic, half-exasperated. “Sorry about him. And seriously, can we never speak of the ‘Gwenny bear’ thing again?”

I grin, ready to tease, but before I can say a word, a pillow smacks me right in the face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gwen! Over here!"

We both turn toward the voice, and my stomach drops. A group of four stands outside the karaoke bar, but it's not the sight of them that makes me instantly regret agreeing to this—it's two familiar faces in particular.

Harry and Felicia.

"On second thought..." I start to backpedal, but Gwen grabs my arm, pulling me along.

"Come on," she insists, giving me no choice but to follow her into the awkward social minefield ahead.

We stop in front of the group: Liv Allen, Flash Thompson, Harry Osborn, and of course, Felicia Hardy. Harry and I lock eyes, and the silence between us is painfully heavy. Neither of us says a word, but everything we've left unsaid sits right there between us, impossible to ignore.

"Who the hell invited Parker?" Flash groans, breaking the tension, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Great, he's totally gonna kill the vibe. This guy couldn't loosen up if his life depended on it."

Liv, ever the peacemaker, rolls her eyes at Flash. "I don't think Petey's so bad," she says, trying to throw me a bone. "They say it's the quiet ones who party the hardest."

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling a little more out of place by the second. "Uh... thanks?"

Gwen jumps in with her usual charm, trying to smooth things over. "Don't worry. Peter's here to have fun, just like the rest of us. Right, Harry?" She winks at him, trying to include him.

Harry chuckles awkwardly, glancing at me before nodding. "Right. Now I get why the invite felt so random."

We exchange small nods, a silent truce for the moment. But as I glance at Felicia, she's staring at me with that intense gaze of hers, like she's trying to read my thoughts. I pretend not to notice, even though her look is hard to ignore.

"So," Gwen claps her hands, breaking the tension. "Let's get inside, shall we?"

The group shuffles into the building, with me bringing up the rear. As we enter, I instinctively check my phone, scrolling through my alerts. Nothing major—so far.

"Hey, put that thing away for just one night." Gwen teases, standing at the entrance with her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.

I smile sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that." I shove my phone back in my pocket and follow her inside.

The first hour, I do what I do best: blend into the background. Everyone else seems to be having the time of their lives—laughing, singing, even dancing. I stick to the edges, hoping they'll forget I'm even here. Every now and then, I sneak a glance at my phone, just in case something crazy is happening out there. It's hard to shut off the Spider-sense, even when I'm trying to be Peter for the night.

But Flash, with his usual lack of subtlety, has other plans. "Hey, Parker!" he slurs, pointing at me, clearly having sweet-talked the lady at the front into giving him alcohol. "Your turn to sing! Stop being a loser and sitting there like a freakin' ghost!"

Harry looks back at me, stepping in like he always does. "Nah, Pete's not really the karaoke type. He's a bit shy when it comes to this stuff."

Liz Allen chimes in, egging me on. "Don't be lame, Petey! You gotta at least do one song."

Felicia sits quietly, her finger tapping rhythmically against her cheek, looking more disinterested than anything else. It makes me wonder if she's even enjoying herself.

And then Gwen, standing right in front of me, hands me the microphone. "Peter," she says softly, giving me that encouraging smile. "You came here to have fun, remember?"

I sigh. There's no getting out of this, is there? I take the mic from her, resigning myself to my fate. "Yeah. Let's do this."

God, I think I'd rather face down the Lizard again.

I step up, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on me. Flash is smirking like he's waiting for me to embarrass myself. Harry watches, trying to look supportive, but I can tell he's not sure if he should step in again. And Gwen—she's just smiling, warm and patient, like she's the only one in the room who believes I can actually pull this off.

"You got this, Pete," she says softly.

I look at the mic in my hand, then back at her. Do

I?

I take a deep breath, staring at the microphone like it's a ticking time bomb. Gwen's smile is the only thing keeping me from bolting for the door. Everyone else is waiting, some more patiently than others, but I can feel the heat of their gazes on me.

"Alright," I mutter under my breath. "Let's get this over with."

The screen flickers to life, and the song choices roll past. I scroll through, looking for something—anything—that won't make this more painful than it already is. My fingers freeze over a familiar title, an old rock ballad that Aunt May used to play in the house when I was a kid. Something safe.

I select it, and the opening notes drift out through the speakers. The group seems to perk up, though Flash looks like he's holding back a laugh. I shoot him a look that hopefully says, "Back off," though I'm pretty sure it just comes off as nervous.

I clear my throat and bring the mic closer, my voice shaky as I start to sing. The first verse feels like I'm stumbling through a fog, but as I get into it, I find my footing. It's not great, but it's not as disastrous as I thought it would be either.

Gwen is nodding along, swaying to the beat, her smile growing wider the longer I go. Liv even claps in rhythm, encouraging me.

Halfway through the song, something shifts. The nerves start to melt away, replaced by something else—maybe a tiny bit of confidence, or maybe just a sense of relief that I haven't humiliated myself yet. My voice steadies, and I manage to actually hit a few notes, much to my own surprise.

By the time I reach the chorus, I'm getting into it—well, as much as Peter Parker can. It's still awkward, but I'm no longer imagining a trapdoor opening under me.

"See? Not so bad!" Gwen calls out, giving me a thumbs-up, her voice full of playful encouragement.

I laugh into the mic, trying to hide my embarrassment. "I guess," I reply between lyrics, my voice lighter now, more relaxed. I'm still terrible, but at least I'm surviving.

By the time the song ends, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The small group claps—mostly out of courtesy, I'm sure—but it feels like a victory. Even Flash manages a slow clap, though it's dripping with sarcasm.

"Bravo, Parker," Flash says, leaning back in his seat with a grin. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"Thanks, I think?" I mutter, stepping back toward the couch. I hand the mic back to Gwen, who's practically beaming.

"You did great," she says, genuinely. "I knew you had it in you."

I shake my head, but I'm smiling. "Yeah, well, maybe don't get used to it."

"One song, and you're already ready to retire?" Gwen teases, nudging me playfully. "Come on, Pete. Don't tell me you're a one-hit wonder."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but laugh a little. "Let's just say I'm leaving on a high note."

Harry, who's been quiet this whole time, steps closer, holding a drink in his hand. "You weren't bad, Pete," he says, his voice softer, more thoughtful than usual. "It was... kinda cool seeing you let loose."

I blink, caught off guard by his sincerity. Harry's usually the sarcastic one, but there's something different in the way he's looking at me. Something a little sad, like there's more he wants to say but can't find the words. I nod, not sure how to respond.

"Thanks, man," I say quietly.

Felicia, who had been silent this whole time, finally speaks up. "You didn't completely suck," she says, her voice cool, but there's a smirk tugging at her lips.

"That's high praise coming from you," I shoot back with a grin.

She shrugs, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. "I call it like I see it."

For a moment, the group settles into a comfortable rhythm. Gwen is already scrolling through the next set of songs, Liv is laughing at something Flash said, and Harry, though still reserved, seems a little more relaxed. Even Felicia, though distant, has a tiny glint of amusement in her eyes.

I sit back, letting the moment wash over me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not thinking about Spider-Man, or my responsibilities, or the weight of the world pressing down on me. I'm just... Peter. And it feels good.

Gwen glances at me again, her eyes sparkling with that mischievous look she always gets when she's planning something. "Alright, Peter," she says, handing me a soda from the table. "Next time, we're doing a duet."

I choke on my drink. "What?!"

She laughs, shaking her head. "You'll see. You're not off the hook that easily."

I groan, but deep down, I know I don't mind. For once, I'm okay with just being here, with these people. It's a rare thing, this kind of normal, and I think... I think I could get used to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another hour drags by, and Gwen and Liz have taken the stage again. Flash is hooting like a maniac, shouting lyrics off-key, while Harry pretends to strum along on an invisible guitar. They're lost in the moment, wrapped up in the glow of bad karaoke and worse harmonizing. I should be too.

But I can't.

Felicia's eyes are still on me. She hasn't looked away.

She's sitting across the room, watching me like a hawk. It's been going on for an hour, maybe more. I've tried to play it cool, keep my eyes on the others, laugh when they laugh, but it's impossible. Felicia Hardy has that kind of stare that makes you feel naked, like she's peeling back layers of skin and looking at what's underneath.

Then she moves.

Without warning, Felicia stands, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "Parker. Come with me." Her voice is low but commanding, cutting through the noise like a blade. Everyone freezes, eyes darting between me and her. It's like the air has been sucked out of the room, and all that's left is this heavy, uncomfortable silence.

Gwen glances at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. Harry's eyes flicker between us, surprise and suspicion twisting his expression into something unreadable.

"Uh..." I stammer, heat rising in my chest. "Sure." The word feels like it's being dragged out of me, and before I can think better of it, I'm standing and following her out of the room. I can feel the eyes on my back, hear the whispers already starting to bubble up behind us.

We barely make it to the hallway before Felicia grabs my arm and pulls me into the women's bathroom.

"Hey!" I protest, trying to wrench my arm free. "I can't be in here!"

Felicia slams the door shut, her eyes flashing with that dangerous mix of curiosity and something else—something darker. She steps in close, so close I can feel her breath on my face.

"You're Spider-Man, aren't you?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My eyes go wide, and I scramble to find my footing. "What?! No! I—" My voice cracks. Stupid. I try to laugh it off, but it's weak, pathetic. "What makes you think—"

She cuts me off with a scoff, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Please. You're not fooling anyone, Parker. All the disappearing acts, the cuts, the bruises. At first, I just thought you had the world's worst luck. But then Spider-Man shows up at our school the other day to fight that freak? And you, Peter Parker, the quiet little nerd, just happened to disappear right before? It's too convenient. And I don't believe in coincidences."

My mouth goes dry. I keep my eyes fixed on the stained tiles, anywhere but her face.

I keep my eyes fixed on the grimy bathroom tiles, hoping they might somehow swallow me up. "I wouldn't call it convenient... more like lucky," I mumble, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds. My pulse is hammering in my ears now. "Felicia, I'm not Spider-Man. Why would you even think that? Look at me—do I look like a guy who could be swinging from rooftops?"

Felicia crosses her arms and tilts her head, eyes narrowing. "You're not as good a liar as you think, Parker." Her voice is sharp, but there's a glint of something else behind her eyes—curiosity, maybe even admiration. "It makes sense. You've got the whole dorky act down, but I've been watching. You're not fooling me."

The room feels smaller by the second, and I can barely breathe. My mind races, searching for some kind of out, something that'll steer this conversation anywhere but where it's headed. But Felicia isn't giving me a chance to catch my breath. She steps even closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." She smiles, a sly, cat-like grin. "I'm not looking to blow your cover, Peter. I just think... maybe we could help each other out."

I blink, trying to process what she's implying. "Help each other? What—what does that even mean?" My voice sounds small, desperate.

Felicia's gaze lingers on me, cool and calculating. "With powers like yours, I bet there's a lot we could do together. A lot of things you could help me with." Her smile deepens. "You ever thought about using your abilities for more than playing hero? There's a whole world of opportunity out there, Parker."

My stomach churns. "What are you talking about? I'm not—" I cut myself off, realizing how pointless it is to keep denying it. She's not buying any of it. "Look, Felicia, whatever it is you're thinking, I'm not interested. I'm not Spider-Man, and even if I was, I wouldn't be some... criminal."

She leans back slightly, arms still crossed but her expression softens for a second, almost like she's disappointed. "Hmph. I see."

The tension between us lingers for a heartbeat longer, until suddenly my phone dings in my pocket. I pull it out and see a police alert—another call for all available officers. Another incident.

Felicia doesn't miss a beat. "You've gotta go take care of something, don't you?" She raises an eyebrow, her tone taunting, almost daring me to admit it.

"Uh..." I stammer, scrambling for an excuse. **"I, uh... forgot I have homework from Mr. Octavius. If I don't finish it by Monday—"

Felicia rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. It's like you're not even trying."

I glance back at her, feeling the weight of her words. There's no winning here, not without blowing everything. I pocket my phone, already bracing myself for the fallout of what's about to happen next.

Felicia doesn't say anything more as she pushes open the door, leading the way back out into the hallway. The second we step outside, the atmosphere is charged with something even worse than before—quiet, but crackling with tension. Gwen, Harry, Flash, and Liz are all standing there, their expressions ranging from confusion to outright disbelief.

Harry steps forward first, his face pale. "Peter?" His voice is tight, barely controlled. "What the hell were you doing in there?"

I can feel the weight of everyone's stares, but none of them are as heavy as Harry's. His eyes are fixed on mine, full of something I can only describe as betrayal. I open my mouth to explain, but no words come out.

"Oh, this should be good," Flash snickers, folding his arms. "Parker sneaking into the girls' bathroom? Didn't think you had it in you."

Liz elbows him, hissing for him to shut up, but the damage is done. Gwen's looking at me now too, her eyes wide with hurt. "Peter?"

I can't look at her. I can barely meet anyone's eyes. "It's not what it looks like. I was just—"

Before I can finish, Felicia speaks up, cutting through the tension with a lazy, almost amused tone. "Actually, I've got something to say."

Harry's gaze flicks to her, his face tight with confusion and hurt. "Felicia, what is this? Why were you with Peter in the—"

Felicia sighs dramatically, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall like she's completely bored with all of this. "I'm breaking up with you, Harry."

The room goes dead quiet.

Harry freezes, blinking as if he didn't quite hear her right. "Wait—what? You're—breaking up with me? Here? Now?" His voice cracks, eyes darting between Felicia and me. "Is it because of him? Is there something going on between you two?"

"No! I say quickly, stepping forward. "There's nothing going on. We were just—"

But Felicia doesn't let me finish. "It's not about Peter," she says, her voice as cold and sharp as a knife. "It's about you, Harry. You and me. It's not working anymore." She shrugs, as if she's talking about the weather instead of ripping Harry's heart out in front of everyone. "So, yeah. Sorry."

"Sorry?!" Harry's voice is rising now, trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You're sorry? That's it? You're just ending it—just like that?"

"Yeah." Felicia doesn't even flinch. "It's over."

I can see the hurt in Harry's eyes, the betrayal simmering just beneath the surface. He looks at me, and for a second I think he's going to punch me. But he doesn't. He just stares at me like I'm a stranger—like he doesn't know me at all.

"You're supposed to be my best friend," he says quietly, the pain in his voice cutting deeper than any punch could. "How could you do this?"

"Harry, I didn't—" I check my phone again, seeing more alerts coming through. My heart is pounding in my chest. "Look, this is the worst timing, but I really have to go."

Harry lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Of course. You always have to go, don't you? Wouldn't want to keep you from your 'homework.'" He turns away, his back stiff as he walks back into the karaoke room, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

Gwen looks at me, disappointment clear in her eyes, and for a second, I feel like I've lost her too.

"Thanks for inviting me," I mutter, the words hollow as I turn and make my way out of the building, already heading toward the nearest alley to change.

Hoping that Spider-Man can somehow have a better day than Peter Parker ever could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"WHAT... is this?" I whisper, my voice swallowed by the chaos in front of me. The scene is pure devastation, the kind that twists your stomach and makes your heart pound. Cars are smashed, crumpled like discarded soda cans, some flipped on their backs while others are embedded into nearby buildings like jagged puzzle pieces that don't fit. Glass shards glitter under the streetlights, scattered like confetti, but there's nothing celebratory here. It's a massacre. Bodies—police officers, civilians—are strewn across the street, some pinned under wreckage, some slumped in grotesque, unnatural positions. Blood streaks the asphalt, its crimson stain the only color in this otherwise gray world.

I rush to the nearest body, a cop in uniform. His face is obscured by blood and broken glass, but I don't need to see his eyes to know the truth. I place trembling fingers on his neck, desperate to find a pulse, any sign of life.

Nothing.

My breath catches, a knot tightening in my throat. "Who... who could've done this?" The words hang in the air, unanswered, as if the city itself is holding its breath.

Then, everything around me goes quiet. Too quiet.

My senses sharpen in the silence, every nerve on fire. I hear everything—the steady hum of electricity through the streetlights, the faint buzz of a fly to my left, the trickle of water sliding into a sewer grate to my right. But then, my body goes cold, my spine stiffens.

Behind me.

It's instinct more than anything else that gets me moving. My senses scream behind! just a fraction of a second before a deafening roar fills the air. I throw myself sideways, my heart lurching as a car whistles past me, smashing into the building where I'd just stood. Shards of brick and debris rain down as I scramble to my feet, instinctively clinging to the nearest wall, my sticky fingers gripping onto the rough surface.

I glance down, my breath heavy, heart thundering in my chest. My mind races, but I can't afford the luxury of confusion or panic—not now. Not with something—someone—out there, hurling cars like baseballs.

I stay plastered against the wall, every muscle tense, eyes scanning the wreckage below, trying to make sense of the shadow moving amidst the destruction. This isn't just some random villain causing chaos. There's intent here, there's power.

Then I see him.

He's massive, hulking in the moonlight, his muscles straining beneath torn clothing that's soaked with blood—not his, judging by the way he moves. His face, twisted in a cruel grin, gleams with the satisfaction of destruction. He stands over the broken bodies and shattered cars like a king surveying his kingdom of chaos.

"I've heard about you, little spider," he growls, voice like gravel being ground under a steel boot. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the weight of his hatred. "I do not intend to let you stand in my way."

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry, trying not to let the fear creeping up my spine show. My heart's hammering in my chest, my mind racing with plans, but all of them feel like bad ideas. Still, I can't let him see me sweat. Not now. Not when he's already carved his way through so many people.

Breathe, Peter.

"Yeah?" My voice sounds steadier than I feel. "Well, I don't intend to let you kill anymore people." I loosen my shoulders, trying to play it cool. "This stops now."

Without thinking, I leap from the wall, firing a web at his face. The sticky strands latch onto his nose, covering his eyes for a brief second, long enough for me to pull myself toward him. My fist cracks against the side of his jaw, a solid hit that should've sent anyone else reeling.

But not him.

He barely budges, blinking through the webbing with a wild grin. His teeth gleam in the dark, and I swear I hear him chuckle.

"You call that punch?" His voice is dripping with amusement, like I'm a kid who just threw a pebble at a freight train. "This... is punch."

Before I can react, his massive fist hurtles toward me. I try to dodge, but he's faster than I expected. His knuckles slam into my ribs with the force of a speeding truck, and I feel the air leave my lungs in one agonizing gasp. My body's weightless for a second before I'm flung through the air, crashing through a plate-glass window. The world shatters around me as I tumble into a display of mannequins. Their plastic limbs scatter across the floor, grotesque and lifeless, while I land in a crumpled heap.

Pain explodes in my side, spreading through my body like wildfire. My head's ringing like someone struck a bell inside my skull. It would be so easy to just stay here, to let unconsciousness take me, to give up for just a moment and rest.

But then I hear him—those footsteps. Each one heavier than the last, the ground trembling beneath his weight. He's charging, I know it without looking. I can feel the rumble in my bones, hear the fury in his breath. The sound grows louder, closer, and when I glance up, I see him.

He's coming at me full-speed, his massive frame hunched forward, the horn on his suit gleaming, aimed right at me like a living, breathing battering ram.

He's going to skewer me.

Panic jolts through me like a live wire. Move, Parker. MOVE!

I leap out of the way just in time as Rhino barrels through the storefront like a runaway train. The impact shatters the place apart, debris flying in all directions, and I hear the terrified screams of the workers scrambling for the back exit. Rhino's sheer size makes him like a wrecking ball that can't be stopped, and yet he moves with a weird sort of grace, like destruction is his natural state.

"So, first it's a giant Lizard, then a scorpion, and now a Rhino?" I mutter, flipping over a display counter as he charges again, his footsteps making the floor tremble beneath me. "Where are you guys even coming from? What do I call you? Rhino-Man? Horn King? Nah, that one sounds weird."

He roars, a deep, guttural sound that rattles the glass, and swipes at me with a hand the size of a truck tire. "Stand still so I can squash you!"

His voice is full of rage and frustration, like an animal backed into a corner, but I can't focus on that now. My senses are on high alert as I dodge, jumping from wall to wall, evading each of his brutal attacks. I try to land a punch, aiming for the side of his jaw again, but it's like hitting concrete. His hide—or whatever that armor is—absorbs the impact like I'm swatting at him with a feather.

Before I can even blink, his massive hand backhands me across the store, and suddenly I'm airborne again, the world a blur of glass and metal. My body slams through the front door, shattering it as I crash onto the street. I roll to a stop, my limbs burning, ribs aching, and every inch of me screaming in protest. Damn, he's strong. Out of all the guys I've fought, Rhino's definitely in a league of his own.

Struggling to my feet, I wince as I groan, trying to push the pain aside. "Okay... how about we cut for halftime?" I call out, staggering as I stand. "I think you could use it."

Rhino smashes his way out of the store, the pavement cracking beneath his feet like it's made of brittle ice. His eyes are full of fury, but there's something else there too—a kind of pain, a sadness buried beneath the rage. "No breaks," he snarls. "Only death for you. And for him. And anyone who stands in my way."

I freeze for a second. There's something in his tone that makes me hesitate, like maybe this isn't just a one-man wrecking crew. "Wait, 'him'? Who's him? And... hold on, are you saying somebody did this to you?"

But Rhino's not listening. He charges again, and I barely dodge in time, my body aching as I flip over his hulking frame. He slams into a car, flattening it with a single blow, but I can't shake what he said. There's something off about this whole thing—more than just another big, bad guy wanting to cause mayhem.

"Even if that's true, what gives you the right to hurt all these people? And kill?" I shout, jumping back as he demolishes another car.

He laughs, the sound dark and hollow. "Aleksei cares not for the trash that stands in his way," he says, his voice cold and detached. "He is all-powerful now. Nobody can stop him."

I pause, raising an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a pit form in my stomach. "Uh... are you... Aleksei?"

His eyes narrow as he straightens up, towering over me, his fists clenched so tight I can hear his knuckles crack.

"Yes," he growls, his voice low and menacing, "I was Aleksei once... but now I am this thing. And now...I don't have to answer to no one."

That's when it hits me. He's not just some thug—he's been turned into this. Someone did this to him.

But before I can process it, he charges again, faster than before, his horn gleaming in the night, and this time I barely manage to leap out of the way.

I leap out of the way just in time, Rhino's horn skimming the air where my chest had been a second earlier. He barrels past me, smashing through another row of cars, flipping them over like they're made of plastic.

I need to think fast. I can't keep dodging him forever, and every time I hit him, it's like he barely even feels it. This guy's built like a tank, I think, scrambling up a nearby streetlight and clinging to the top like it's a lifeline. He turns, his eyes glowing with rage, and charges again.

Okay, time for a new plan. I shoot a webline at a nearby dumpster, hurling it in his path, hoping the sheer weight will slow him down. It collides with him head-on—but all it does is bounce off. He barely even stumbles, just plows through it like it's made of cardboard.

"Seriously?!" I yell, more to myself than to him.

I swing out of the way as he charges again, this time leaping toward a nearby crane that's stationed in front of a construction site. If I can just get some leverage... I shoot two quick web-lines and yank down on the massive steel wrecking ball attached to the crane, letting it drop with a thundering crash in front of Rhino, hoping to knock him off balance.

He doesn't even flinch. He charges straight into it, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. The crane groans, toppling over as the ball swings wildly, but it barely slows him down. I leap to the side, dodging as the crane's metal arm crashes to the ground behind me.

"Okay," I mutter, trying to catch my breath. "That didn't work. At all."

But he's not giving me any time to think. Rhino roars, his eyes blazing with fury, and charges at full speed, the ground shaking beneath him.

I need to stop him. Now.

I shoot a web at a nearby billboard, using all the strength I have to tear it from its supports. The massive structure topples forward, slamming into Rhino's path. For a moment, I think it might work—he slows down, trying to muscle his way through the wreckage—but then, with a bellowing roar, he tears through it like tissue paper.

This guy isn't just strong—he's relentless.

As he storms through the wreckage, I realize there's only one thing left: I'm going to have to meet him head-on. This isn't just a fight anymore. It's survival.

I brace myself and leap at him, hitting him with everything I've got. Fists fly. He swings, I duck. I jab, he counters. Each blow feels like slamming into a concrete wall, but I can't stop. My vision blurs as his fist connects with my side, sending me tumbling across the asphalt.

Police cars surround us now, red and blue lights flashing, casting chaotic shadows over the street. Civilians are gathered, watching in horror, some recording with their phones, others frozen in shock as they see me—Spider-Man—getting pummeled by this juggernaut.

I force myself to my feet, my muscles screaming in protest. "Alright, big guy... let's see what you've got," I mutter, spitting out blood.

Rhino cracks his knuckles. "You're still standing?" His voice is incredulous. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."

I don't respond. I'm too busy trying to strategize, to find some kind of weak spot, but it's becoming clear—there is none. He's not just tough. He's unstoppable.

He charges again, and this time I meet him halfway, swinging with everything I have, landing a solid punch to his jaw. It barely fazes him. His fist comes down on my shoulder, and I hear the sickening crack of bone as I'm driven into the pavement.

Pain explodes in my body, but I can't stop now. I push myself up, ignoring the agony, and swing another punch. He catches my wrist mid-swing, grinning like a madman, and slams me into the side of a car, the metal crumpling beneath the impact.

"Spider-Man, huh? You don't look so amazing now," he taunts, dragging me up by my costume, his fist raised for the final blow.

I grit my teeth, my vision swimming, but I can't let him win. I won't let him win.

With one final burst of energy, I shoot a web at his face, yanking myself up just enough to break free from his grip. I twist in midair, using his own momentum to send him crashing into a fire hydrant. The impact sends a geyser of water into the air, and for a moment, I have the upper hand.

But it doesn't last. He gets up, shaking off the water like it's nothing, and turns back to me, his face twisted with fury.

"That's it!" he roars. "No more games!"

He charges again, and this time I don't have the strength to dodge. His horn slams into my side, sending me flying through the air and into a parked truck. The impact is deafening, and everything goes white with pain.

I collapse onto the street, barely able to move. My vision fades in and out, but I can see him, looming over me, ready to finish the job.

I can't stop him. Not like this. Not alone.

Police sirens blare in the distance, and I hear the shouts of officers, but I know it's too late. Rhino's too strong. Too fast.

"Any last words, bug?" he growls, raising his fist for the final blow.

I stare up at him, blood trickling down my face, my body broken and bruised. But I'm Spider-Man. I don't give up.

"Yeah," I mutter, barely able to speak through the pain. "So, have we settled on calling you the rhino?"

With a final surge of strength, I shoot a webline at the nearest building, yanking myself out of the way just as his fist comes crashing down, shattering the pavement where I'd been lying.

I swing weakly to the side, collapsing against a wall, barely able to stand.

Rhino turns to me, snorting with frustration, but before he can charge again, I hear something in the distance. A sound... like engines roaring.

As the roaring sound of engines draws closer, I catch a glimpse of a convoy of SWAT vehicles pulling up, tires screeching as the heavily armed officers pour out onto the street. Their black gear glistens under the flashing lights, weapons drawn and aimed straight at Rhino.

"Swat! Stand down!" one of the officers shouts through a megaphone, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Rhino turns, and for a moment, he looks... amused.

"Really?" he grumbles, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "More bugs to squash?"

The SWAT team moves in fast, surrounding him from all sides. I stumble to my feet, trying to wave them off. "Wait—no! You don't know what you're dealing with!" I shout, but my voice cracks, drowned out by the pounding of boots and the clattering of gear.

One of the officers pulls the pin on a canister and throws it at Rhino's feet. Tear gas.

White clouds hiss into the air, swirling around him. I watch as the gas envelops his hulking form, choking the street in a thick fog. The officers move in cautiously, weapons raised, assuming he's down for the count.

But they're wrong.

So very wrong.

A deep, guttural growl echoes from the fog, and then, like a thunderclap, Rhino roars. The gas doesn't weaken him—it enrages him.

"Idiots!" I mutter under my breath, already moving. I shoot a webline to the nearest SWAT officer and yank him out of the way just as Rhino charges through the smoke, his massive body bulldozing through everything in his path. Cars are flipped, light poles snapped like toothpicks, and officers are scattered like bowling pins.

I spring into action, grabbing one officer and tossing him onto a nearby rooftop, webbing two more out of Rhino's way. But it's chaos. There are too many of them, and Rhino is too fast.

"Move!" I shout, trying to corral the SWAT team out of Rhino's warpath. I manage to web up two more officers, pulling them to safety, but the others are scrambling, panicked.

Rhino's rage is like nothing I've ever seen. His skin is practically steaming, his movements faster, more erratic. He swings wildly, smashing into the SWAT vans, turning them into scrap metal. One officer gets too close, and Rhino grabs him, lifting him like a ragdoll.

"No!" I yell, shooting a web at the officer and yanking him free just before Rhino can crush him in his grip.

But Rhino's too quick. He whips around, swinging his massive fist at me. I don't even have time to dodge. The blow catches me full force, sending me flying into a building. The impact is brutal. I crash through brick and mortar, my body screaming in pain as I collapse onto the rubble.

I can't do this. My body feels like it's breaking down, every inch of me aching, my vision blurry. But I can't let him win. I can't let him hurt anyone else.

I push myself up, groaning as I stagger to my feet. I have to end this.

Rhino charges again, and this time, I don't dodge. I leap straight at him, fists raised, bringing them down with everything I've got. I rain blow after blow onto him—his head, his chest, his back—whatever I can reach. My knuckles feel like they're shattering with each hit, but I don't stop.

He swings wildly, trying to catch me, but I'm faster. I duck under his arms, slam my fist into his gut, leap onto his back and start pounding his head. But it's like hitting solid rock. Every punch I throw feels useless, but I don't back down.

I can't back down.

I grab a chunk of concrete from the street and smash it against his skull. He staggers, but just for a second. I use that moment to web his legs, yank him forward, and send him crashing into a parked truck.

But he gets up. He always gets up.

Rhino snarls, blood trickling from his mouth. His eyes are wild with fury, his massive hands clawing at the pavement as he rises. He swings again, and this time I'm not fast enough. His fist slams into my ribs, sending me skidding across the street like a ragdoll.

Pain explodes in my chest. Something's broken. Maybe everything's broken.

But I get up.

I throw another punch. Then another. Each one weaker than the last, but I keep going. I have to keep going. My fists are bleeding now, the skin torn from the relentless assault, but I won't stop. I swing again, putting every ounce of strength left in my body into the punch.

This time, I feel something. A crack. Rhino grunts, stumbling back, his eyes wide in shock. I follow it up with another punch, and another, and another, each blow more desperate than the last.

"I'm... not... done..." I growl through gritted teeth, my voice hoarse from the pain.

Rhino reels, his massive body swaying as I land one final punch straight to his jaw. He staggers back, his knees buckling, and for the first time, I see doubt flicker in his eyes.

But it's not over. Not yet.

With a roar, Rhino charges again, his horn aimed straight at me. I leap out of the way, webbing him mid-charge, slamming him into the ground. But he's still not stopping. His rage is too deep, too overwhelming.

We collide again, fists flying, blood spilling. Civilians scream, watching from the sidewalks, the police frozen in shock as we tear the street apart, locked in a brutal slugging match. Each blow sends shockwaves through my body, but I keep fighting.

I can't let him win.

We crash into a bus, tearing through the metal as I hammer him with everything I have left. Rhino roars in pain, his body starting to give way under the relentless onslaught.

"I'm... Spider-Man," I mutter, my voice barely a whisper now, my vision going dark. "And I don't... back... down..."

With one final punch, I slam him into the pavement, the impact shaking the ground beneath us. Rhino groans, his massive body finally going still, the fight draining out of him.

I collapse onto the street next to him, barely able to breathe. My body is broken, battered, but I'm still alive.

The SWAT team approaches cautiously, their weapons still trained on Rhino's unconscious form. I watch through blurry eyes as they secure him, the battle finally over.

"Should we grab him too?" I hear one of the officers say.

Captain Stacy comes into view, his eyes glazing over my injured body. "Hey, kid, can you hear me?" He says, and for a moment I think he might actually be concerned.

I don't open my mouth though, still painful right now.

"You're badly messed up, we're gonna take you to get some treatment, alright? Just stay there." Captain Stacy, click his radio calling for something or other, my consciousness begins to fade in and out...if I don't get up....then I'll be found out, and no more Spider-Man.

I don't wait for whoever it is that he called to answer. My instincts kick in, and I shoot a web toward a nearby building, desperate to escape the chaos and confusion. The pain radiates through my body with each movement, a sharp reminder of how close I came to being crushed under Rhino's fury.

With one final, pained glance over my shoulder, I watch them haul the unconscious beast away, while Captain Stacy stares as I retreat. I hope they can contain him.

But something about what that Rhino said gnaws at my mind—did someone create him? If so, is this connected to Dr. Connors or that Scorpion guy? The questions swirl, but before I can dive deeper, I feel a familiar, gut-wrenching sensation: I try to shoot another web, and nothing comes out.

My heart drops. No. No, no, no! I'm falling now, plummeting, and all I can think about is the agonizing impact that awaits me.

The ground rushes up too fast, and I brace for the inevitable crash. I smack into the metal stairs of a nearby building before tumbling gracelessly into a trash can. The sound of crumpling metal and my own groan echoes in the dim alleyway. "Ow." The word barely escapes my lips before I nearly pass out from the surge of pain engulfing my body.

I lay there for a few moments, surrounded by the stench of refuse, feeling utterly defeated. My suit is torn, shredded in places where Rhino's fists had collided with me. My hands are bloodied and raw, the skin ripped and bruised from the relentless barrage I endured. I survived—but at what cost?

I close my eyes, trying to push the pain to the back of my mind. I need to rest, but the thought of staying here, of letting weakness claim me, makes me shudder.

Even though every breath sends shockwaves of agony through my ribcage, I know I have to move. I glance down at my left arm; it feels wrong, twisted at an unnatural angle. I wince at the thought of how badly I must look.

Somehow, I have to take care of this broken arm, but the thought of trying to make it all the way home feels insurmountable. The pain is blinding, each heartbeat a reminder of how close I came to being crushed by Rhino's brute force. I can barely keep my eyes open, yet the urge to push through is stronger than the pain.

If can make it back to my backpack—the one I stashed earlier. The thought of reaching for my phone to call someone flickers in my mind. There's only one person I can think of.

Struggling to my feet, I brace myself against the wall of the alley, the rough brick digging into my palm. I glance down the dim corridor of the alleyway, the fading light feeling like a last breath. Just get to the backpack. You can do this.

Each step is a battle, every inch a reminder of my fragility. My muscles scream at me, each jolt sending fresh waves of pain through my body, but I keep moving.

As I finally reach the backpack, I drop to my knees, the cold ground a welcome contrast to the heat surging through my aching limbs.

Changing out of my suit into my clothes feels like I'm running a marathon right now, I slide on my pants and pray that nobody decides that this would be the time for some dumpster diving. Luckily the streets are clear after the Rhino came through, I go through my contacts and I hesitate for a few minutes before pressing call.

Then I wait, and feel my eyes becoming harder and harder to keep open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Peter?"

I blink my eyes open, startled by the darkness surrounding me. It takes a moment for my vision to adjust, the shadows slowly coalescing into familiar shapes.

"Felicia... you came..." I manage a pained smile, relief flooding over me like a balm. "I didn't think..."

Felicia kneels beside me, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief. "Jesus, what happened to you? Does this have to do with why everything looks destroyed?"

I let out a low chuckle, the sound laced with pain. "I guess you could say that." It's all I can manage, my body screaming at me to rest, to give in to the darkness that threatens to pull me under.

Her gaze lingers on me, searching my battered face for answers. I know she has a hundred questions swirling in her mind, and I can feel the weight of the secret I've kept. If she wasn't sure before, she must know now. I am the spider in the web of chaos.

"Come on, my place isn't far from here. My dad's gone, and it would be tragic to let you bleed out and die in this alley." There's an urgency in her voice, mixed with a no-nonsense tone that I find oddly comforting.

"Thank you," I breathe, each word a struggle, but my gratitude is genuine. "I didn't... I didn't know what to do."

"Yeah, yeah," she replies, her hands strong as she helps lift my battered body. "God, it looks like you got hit by a truck or something. You're gonna have to explain everything to me later, you got that?"

"I promise." The words spill out before I can think, a promise forged in pain and desperation.

With that, she takes my arm, guiding me through the dimly lit streets. Each step sends sharp jolts of agony through my body, but her presence is a lifeline, grounding me amidst the storm of my thoughts. The shadows seem to loom larger than life, memories of the fight replaying in my mind—the sound of shattering glass, the thunder of Rhino's charges, the feeling of helplessness as he pummeled me into the ground.

I steal glances at Felicia, her features illuminated by the sparse streetlights. There's determination etched on her face, an unwavering resolve that somehow pushes me forward. The pain feels less overwhelming when I focus on her, on the way she walks with purpose, as if she's leading me out of the darkness—not just the physical space around us, but the mental abyss I've been teetering on since that brutal confrontation.

Finally, we reach her apartment, and she helps me inside. The door closes behind us, a barrier against the outside world, but it also feels like a threshold I've crossed. Inside, the air is warm and inviting, yet it does little to ease the chill of fear that grips me.

Felicia leads me to the couch, and I collapse onto it, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. I close my eyes for a brief moment, the exhaustion threatening to pull me under. But I can't afford to drift away—not now.

"Just hang tight," she says, her voice steady as she disappears into another room. I can hear the sounds of water running, the clinking of something—a glass? A first aid kit? My mind races with a thousand thoughts, but one rises to the surface: I survived, and I can't keep running from the truth.

When she returns, she's holding a damp cloth and a small bottle of antiseptic. "This is going to sting," she warns, her voice softening as she kneels beside me again.

I take a deep breath, nodding even though I'm not sure I'm ready for whatever pain comes next. "I can handle it," I say, but I'm not sure if I believe it.

As she dabs at my wounds, I wince, each touch igniting the fire of pain within me. "You're going to tell me everything, right?" she prompts, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "I will."

With each passing moment, the warmth of her presence begins to thaw the icy grip of fear. It's a start, a fragile beginning to the conversation I know we need to have. I can't keep living this double life.

And as I lay there, I realize that maybe—just maybe—I don't have to face this alone anymore.