CHAPTER TWELVE;
everything went wrong

"ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED BACK THERE?"

Amala looks to the window, cheeks flushing as remembers her long hug with Peter. "No. I'm not."

Her mother casts her a glance from the driver's seat, playful smile tugging at her lips. But even then, Amala can see that they don't quite meet her eyes.

She sighs and picks the skin at her thumb, desperate to change the subject. "Is Khalto okay?" (Khalto means 'aunt' in arabic).

"Yes, she's okay." Her mother says, sighing. "The doctor said it was a heart attack but she's stable. I don't know. We will see when we get there."

A frown settles on Amala's lips.

She mumbles a simple "okay" before focusing on something else.

The sun has set way past the horizon and so night time is upon them. Street lights become blurry dots at they drive down the interstate, cars drone past them in a hurry. A cacophony of honks and wheels churning can be heard.

The noise calms her down slightly, but she can't fully settle the worry in her stomach. She knows her aunt is okay but something doesn't feel right. Her stomach tightens into an ugly shade of sickness that she can't quite describe. It feels strange and Amala finds herself on the verge of throwing up. Yet, she knows she isn't because it's not that kind of pain.

Just an hour ago, she was sat in a booth at the back of the café, chatting away with Peter over some lattes and a cookie. Now, she's driving to the hospital.

Things can spiral so quickly.

As she stares at the morphing figures coming to a slow at the stop-light, a familiar term settles on her tongue. A name to the feeling... dread.

But why? She asks herself.

Yes, she is worried about her aunt's wellbeing but why dread? It doesn't make sense with the situation but she can't erase that bitter taste lodged in her throat.

She takes a deep breath, tracing the dents in one of her rings as she tries to ground herself.

Ahead, the stop-light blinks yellow, then green and with that, cars pick up their speed again and move past the intersection.

Bright light hits Amala's right and when she turns around, she's met with harsh head-lights blinding her. Confused, she scrunches her eyes.

What the fuck? She mumbles to herself.

Then, as if someone had altered the speed at which the earth functioned in, time slowed.

It's like she could make out every little detail. That specific glare the light casted against her side mirror, the sound of a car violently honking, confusion and fear bubbling in her veins

Worry strikes her as she realizes the light was getting brighter... and closer. They say that in the face of panic, the world seems to simultaneously slow and speed up. It seemed like such a silly statement back then; how could you experience two opposite phenomenas? Yet, in this moment, she understands.

"Mama..." she warns.

In the blink of a single eye, the car gets tossed to the side as a sharp impact strikes Amala's side of the vehicle. In the blink of a single eye, she sees the light, then feels the hit, then feels her world spin. That's how quickly it all happened. But she felt as though it had lasted minutes. In reality, it had lasted mere seconds.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, Amala chokes out a harsh cry and her mother extends a hand towards her.

She bats her eyes once, then twice. On the third blink, everything stops moving.

The car grunts to a halt, gears clinking together as it seems to be in route for collision with the wall.

Gasping, she shuts her eyes tightly.

She'd never been a religious person but in that moment, she prays to whatever God is willing to listen to her.

Amala waits for the hit...

It never comes.

In a daze, she opens her eyes.

Maybe it's the panic in her veins or the pure fear racing across her ribs but she swears she nearly collapses at the sight.

From the window of the car, a figure clad in red and black grips the hood. His arms are extended out, palms on the metal as his whole body seems to tense.

Her mind races and she struggles to keep her thoughts at bay.

What the fuck,

Holy shit...

What just happened?

I almost died.

I'm alive...

Spider-man?

Mom?

Turning around, she sees her mother leaned against her seat. Amala's eyes search frantically for any sign that she's awake or, at the very least, conscious.

She doesn't move.

"M-Mama?" She says but her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper.

No response.

"M-Mama? Mom?" She tries again — terror quivers in her voice.

Again, no response.

No... her mind plans for the worst. No! No!

Her hands trembling, she fumbles with the buckle of her seatbelt, shaking it when she can't get it to budge open. After a couple moments, it clicks and retracts into its spot.

Eyes brimming with tears, she crams the door open and gets out, sinking to her knees.

Glacial wind hits her and her eyes water more at the force. Concrete rubs against denim, scratching her feet.

Everything is so bright. She looks up and can see lights and figures morph through the blur in her eyes. Amala tries to steady herself and get up.

She barely succeeds between her body borderline vibrating and her rising panic, but somehow manages to do so on pure adrenaline.

In a desperate attempt at clarity, she rubs her eyes. It proves useless — her hands can't even stay still for a moment. It doesn't matter.

She inhales. One, two, three, then stumbles to the other side of the car.

Voices rise all around her but she ignores them.

"Mama!" She screams as she grabs at the handle of the door. "Mom!"

The door won't budge and at that, she sobs even harder. She sobs so hard, they turn into wails. Her eyes sting and her heart beats erratically.

Trying again, she lunges at the door, hitting it with her fist.

All around her, noises grow louder. Sometimes, she can make out a couple words; "help!", "-police", "-you okay?", "this is-". But even then, she ignores it.

She's terrified and worried and confused. Everything in her hurts; from her head to the base of her heels.

Unsure of when her body gives out, Amala finds herself slipping to the floor. Exhaustion takes over, adrenaline running thin, and she's sure her fall is anything but graceful.

She never hits the floor, though.

Two hands grab her at the waist, easing her back on her feet.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, it's okay." A voice says.

Amongst the haze, Amala finds the voice oddly familiar but her mind is too occupied to put two and two together.

"You - you need to help..." she pleads, voice hoarse. "You need to help. My mom - she's..."

"Okay. Of course, ma-am. I'm just going to sit you down, okay?" the voice asks her gently.

Amala shakes her head. "No - no. I have to stay. My- my mom. I'm not gonna leave her, you can't -"

"You're not leaving her," his hands wrap around her shoulder in what seems to be a method to soothe her. "You're going to be right next to her. And I'm going to help her."

While Amala feels more secure when the man's arms are around her, she still can't control her terror.

Her voice is quivering and she's once again blinded by tears. "But - but I can't! Im not going to leave her! You can't -"

"Shh, it's okay." He soothes, hands rubbing against her shoulder. "It's okay. I'm going to help your mom. Trust me, Amala."

Her thoughts race. How does he...?

Looking up at him in what she's sure would be pure, unfiltered confusion, her vision meets white and black.

"S-Spider-man?"

"I got you, okay? Let me help you." He replies, guiding her gently to the side of the road.

"What are you - how did you -" her mind scrambled in a desperate attempt at clarification. "How are you here?"

All he does is hush her gently. "I'll explain everything. Here, sit."

He drops her slowly near the sidewalk closest to her now wrecked car. She slumps down, head leaning against the light pole.

Everything hurts. It feels like the world is ending.

She's so, so tired but she refuses to fall asleep. She's afraid beyond belief but she's also relieved. She thought she was going to die but, again, she lived.

Spider-man still has an arm around her and his other hand cups Amala's cheek when he notices her space out.

"Hey. Amala," he whispers. "You're okay. It's okay. You're safe."

She shuts her eyes and leans into his grasp. His thumbs trace unintelligible figures across her cheek and the action nearly puts Amala to sleep.

"You're okay," he repeats in affirmation. "I got you."

Oh, how she wishes she could fall asleep right now. But something still clouds her mind and won't allow her to relax.

"My mom - she's still -"

"I got it. Don't worry." He says. "Stay here, okay? I'll be back."

Amala nods.

Spider-man's hand rests for several moments too long, before slowly letting her go. He stands up and walks away towards the mauled car.

The ghost of his touch is still present, like a gentle warmth against her right cheek. Her eyes open slightly and her vision scans through people, other cars, so much light, and broken bits of metal.

Perhaps the roles had finally reversed themselves properly. The hero saving the civilian and not the other way around. How did he find her? How did he know this was going to happen? Did Spider-man know it would be Amala and not anyone else?

Her mind hasn't calmed down since setting foot in her car and so much has happened since.

Maybe it's against her better judgment, but she slowly shuts her eyes again. Truthfully, she's been battling passing out since she first stumbled out of the car. The sense of fainting had washed over her multiple times but she forced herself to stay alert. She needed to.

Alas, Amala is nothing but human and avoiding reality is a rocky path she won't survive. Her body begs for a recharge and her eyes feel heavier and heavier as she blinks.

In a trembling gasp, she dozes off. She doesn't want to and she really does try to fight it, but her body cannot support itself any longer.

The last thing she hears are sirens before she slips from reality.

On the interstates of reverie, the moon drapes over an ocean of onyx as stars crowd the sky. Amala leans against the balcony railing, inhaling peacefully.

A swoosh sounds goes as fast as it came and a figure perches against the railing. Not even sparing a glance, she recognizes the famous uniform; skin tight suit, colors black and white, face obscured.

The moon continues its dutiful journey across the sky, east through west, all the while two people bask in its glow and silence. Somewhere during the final hours of darkness, distance begins to chip and peel away, replaced by warmth and proximity.

Hands mold into one another. Bodies absorb each other's heat like the sun to a flower. The night and it's gentleness are lost in the midst of euphoria — two lips join together with such ease, like supple petals around a bud.

Spandex digs into her hips, cold air nips her collarbone, heat and lust fog her vision.

Her gasp is swallowed by the cloak of night, her pleas heard and worshipped. She seeks purchase in broad shoulders, running her hands up, then down. Fingers toy with the hem of a mask, lips stay together.

Somewhere in this moment, Amala knows it's not real. Amala knows that the fog and carefulness are nothing but myths and wishful projections. She knows that her body shouldn't feel this pliant, that the world shouldn't be so quiet, that this would never happen.

Her mind slips in and out of dream land, an orb flying through a web of fantasy. Amala knows this is not real.

Somehow, that's okay.

Amala wakes up in a jolt, gasp bubbling on her tongue.

Dreary eyes stare at a white ceiling, closing and opening as they adjust to the dark world. The curtains are drawn to a close — no light can be seen through them. She guesses it's night time.

The sound of a monitor can be heard. Consistent as ever, it never slows; a continuous beep, beep, beep.

Her eyes follow the noise and settle on a cream-colored machine with tubes extending out of it. In her first moments of clarity, she follows the plastic and looks at her right hand: An IV tube. There's a clear liquid dripping into it, running down and into her arm.

A hospital. I'm in a hospital...

Though her head is still hazy, she can recollect bits and pieces of memories. Café queues, cookie crumbs, a car, her mother, light (too much light), broken metal — they all swim in her mind. She's not sure in which order they go or which is real or fake, though. Her thoughts seem blurry and unintelligible — but they're there.

In the midst of her thinking, she sees a backpack rested on the floor near her bed. It's barely seen in the darkness of the room but it's shape is easy to tell. Clearing her eyes, she recognizes the bag.

Her mind swims with thoughts. Akira?

Following its trail, she sees a girl slumped over her seat, body contorted strangely and hair tied messily. Amala knows it's her best friend; with her wavy hair and famous Barbie socks.

Right besides Akira, someone is there, too. Sat down with his head resting on his hand, Ned sleeps soundly. A thick book rests on his lap (though it seems as if it'll fall off any moment).

Her eyes crinkle in bewilderment but then a smile begins to break out on her face. It grows wider when she realizes someone else is here, too.

A step away from Ned, Peter leans against a wall, headphones plugged in. His chest falls and rises slowly, face blank and soft, hair all messy. He's wearing a navy sweater and some gray sweatpants.

She feels her cheeks warm at the sight.

She casts a tired glance to the other side of the room and sees both her parents asleep on each other, hands held together.

Even through her exhaustion and confusion, Amala can't help but grin. Her smile reaches her ears in a lazy manner but the gesture is not lost on her.

She feels a flurry of emotions in her stomach. They're like little butterflies and they knock against her as if in plea of escape. They patter through her chest, too — happiness and safety in the form of monarchs.

So much is yet to be known and the IV in her hand itches violently. Even so, Amala closes her eyes.

She's suddenly feels very tired. Maybe if she just closes her eyes for a bit, she can wake up and get some explanations.

It's okay, she tells herself. Everything's okay.

With this comfort and the knowledge that her loved ones are near, she sinks back into the pillow.

Amala falls asleep moments later, letting it consume her whole.

She hopes when she wakes up again, it'll all be better.

— END OF CHAPTER 12 —

[ NOTE ]
phew !! this was a lot
to write but i had so
much fun doing it !!

anyways, hope y'all liked
this one :) please vote /
comment (it would mean
the world) also lmk if there
are any spelling mistakes !!!

have a great day / night <3

pearl <3