Behind the Mask

Clara brought me my things that next morning, when I was still tricking myself into imagining that Peter would jump out from behind the curtains or return home at any minute.

I told Clara that he got offered a job in Philadelphia and was away on an interview. She still didn't understand why I couldn't go home.

"It's nice to get out of the house every now and again." It was the best excuse I had.

"Well you must be so lonely." She decided. "Why don't you stay with me?"

I peeked over my shoulder into the kitchen, where Aunt May sat doing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. "I don't mind it here. I'll keep Aunt May company, and she'll keep mine."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "Not to be rude, but there isn't much to do around here."

Sure, Aunt May's was a bit dull and slow-going, but I didn't mind it. I could have used some peace and quiet. "I'll think about it." I wasn't going to think about it.

After Clara was gone, I used the time to search through the bag she brought from my apartment. She remembered everything on my list, even my camera.

I lifted it up and realized I hadn't taken a photo in so long. It didn't interest me and wasn't as much fun without Peter. 

Would I stop taking pictures because he was gone?

I could start writing again, although those skills were rusty as well. I'd have to do one or the other, I just didn't know which.

I set the camera down and caught sight of the mask, staring at me from the same place he left it. If he left it here, it meant that he was really done with the superhero thing. It meant that he would never go back.

That's what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted him to give it up, we'd had numerous fights over it all the time. So why did I feel so guilty?

"That's a nice camera." Aunt May mentioned. She was only trying to start conversation.

I didn't respond right away, lost in my own thoughts.

"You know, maybe you would be more comfortable staying with your friend."

I shook my head. "No. I like it here."

Aunt May stepped across the doorway into the guest room. "I'll be sure to let you know if Peter comes home early."

She couldn't guarantee that he would come home, and neither could I. If only I could tell her the truth. "I hope he's okay." I spoke my thoughts.

Aunt May smiled with a gentle sigh. "Peter has always had the habit of running off to God knows where, but somehow he always comes home."

I actually smiled too, because she was right. He did always make it home. "I know." This time shouldn't be any different.

I woke up from an afternoon nap to the six o'clock news. The same words were repeated over and over again: mugged, injured, dead. People's lives were ruined when they easily could have been saved because Peter wasn't there to help them.

I groaned to myself and latched my fingers in my hair. How could I be so selfish? I wanted him back for my sake, but what about the city? They needed him more than I did. By getting involved, I put myself before so many other people. So selfish!

I got up and kicked by bag across the floor in frustration. It hit the wall with a smashing sound that I didn't expect. My heart sank when I realized what I did.

"Oh no, no, no..." I rushed over to the bag and sat down beside it, digging inside for my camera. The lens was dangling by a thread, and pieces of the outer frame crumbled through my fingers. 

I held the camera carcass in my hands, dropped my head against the wall, and started to cry. What else could I do?

Aunt May knocked on my already opened door. "Olivia?"

I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. There was no need to drag her into this. "I'm okay, Aunt May."

"Will you come downstairs for a moment, please?" Her voice was shaky, but I didn't catch it at first.

I pulled myself together and followed her downstairs and into the living room. There were two police officers, one of them sitting with his back facing me. I didn't recognize the face of the one standing.

"Good evening, ma'am." The standing officer greeted.

I stopped with two stairs left, afraid of the thought that haunted my mind about the seated officer. Just then, he turned his neck and made eye contact with me.

It was Chase. I almost couldn't breathe.

"What's going on?" I asked quietly, still staring at Chase as he stared at me.

"It's alright." Chase said, rising to his feet. "You're safe now."

My eyes took turns focusing on both officers. Chase was acting like nothing ever happened, like I was just another damsel in distress. "I don't understand."

"I told them everything." Chase clarified, stepping closer to make it more personal. He looked worried about me. "You don't have to pretend anymore."

I clenched my teeth, ready to spit in his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Parker isn't anywhere to be found, but we're looking for him." The other officer chimed in. "We just need you to come with us and answer a few questions about him."

I wiped my face with my hands, confused and scared and in disbelief. "You told them?"

"I'm sorry I'm not following along here..." Aunt May looked concerned. "Is this about Peter?"

The other officer ignored her, boxing me in beside Chase. "You're not in any trouble, we just need more information. If you come with us now, you can return home later this evening."

I still couldn't believe it. Not that Chase told the NYPD about Spiderman's identity, but that I told Chase about him. Me being selfish, yet again.

"What if I refuse?" I asked.

"Liv, you don't really have a choice. We'll straighten it all out, and it'll all be fine." Chase reached for my arm.

I jerked away. I wanted to scream so may things, about how Chase was lying, and how he tried to kill Peter. I couldn't do it, though. Not infront of Aunt May, and not where every word I said depended on Peter's safety.

So without arguing any further, I went with them.