MJ slammed her sketchbook down on the table and shook out the contents of her pencil case. Colored pencils and markers spilled out, rolling across the table top. MJ snatches the black sharpie just as it was about to roll off the edge. She gripped it in her hand before pulling the cap off with her teeth.

  Flipping through the pages of her sketchbook, she let her fingers trail over her array of sloppy drawings. Most were just snippets of her day-a school bus with a flat tire, a homeless man asleep on the curb, Peter with his head in his folded arms in detention. That one made her sigh. But then there were the ones that made her heart ache-a girl crying in the bathroom during free period, a broken statue, a certain superhero standing in the rain, injured and bleeding. MJ flipped through them quickly, not wanting to feel too much at once.

  She stopped at her most recent drawing. It was only half-finished, abandoned when blood droplets started to splatter onto the paper. She'd climbed up onto the roof of her building to draw the sunset, not to quarrel with Spider-Man.

  MJ ran her fingers over the drawing. It was rough, the paper textured from being wet with blood then drying. Even though anyone else would consider it to be ruined, MJ still found herself pressing the tip of the dull sharpie onto the page. She scribbled out two figures messily, both standing in front of the sunset, silhouetting the dying rays of light. One was taller than the other, head haloed by a mane of black curls. The other is hunched over, hand clutching their side as liquid ink slips between their fingers to pool at their feet. It's not romantic, not by a long shot. But it's the truth.

  Tears swim before MJ's eyes as she rips the sharpie across the page, tearing the paper and shattering the image as if she'd thrown a rock to a window instead. She pushes herself back from the table, chair screeching beneath her. A sudden anger flares within her, one that made her want to seize the sketchbook and rip the entire thing to shreds. She felt such anger, hot and rippling like a raging fire, for the falseness that had become her life.

Her and Peter would be nothing more than satellites-floating around each other, always trapped in orbit, but never quite meeting. Not with their many secrets sandwiched between them, easy to exploit.

As if it could sense her disdain, MJ's phone buzzed weakly in her pocket, demanding her attention. It could be an array of people, but that wasn't the reason she whipped it out. There had been a shift in the precarious equation she was struggling to balance.

Unknown #: That was quite a show. I'm going to be honest, from my standpoint, it's hard to know where you stand.

Revulsion coiled in the pit of MJ's stomach like a hostile snake. Even on top of the world, even in the deepest pits of hell, she still had eyes on her back. She couldn't help but glance around her empty apartment. Was she alone? Were there eyes in the walls? She felt inclined to crawl under her bed and wait for her mother to come home like she did when a thunderstorm would blow through when she was younger.

Unknown #: For a second there, i thought our little game was over. But a kiss can mean a lot of things, can't it?

MJ growled deep in her throat, moving to sit back down at the kitchen table, within clear view of the third story windows of her apartment in case something happens. The unknown number continued to taunt her through her phone, sending another text even as MJ said nothing.

Unknown #: A kiss goodbye, perhaps? After all, you did make a crucial mistake earlier...

  MJ's harsh demeanor dissipated at the open threat. Her hot anger quickly turned to cold fear, a single drop of sweat trickling down her neck. Her fingers twitched, hovering over the screen of her phone. She could feel the scales tipping out of her favor, the equation becoming terribly unbalanced to the point where it was likely to explode in her face. She never had been the best at chemistry.

MJ: ur not going to touch him

Unknown #: From where i am, i could bite him if i so wanted.

  MJ's mind reeled, the events of that night playing back like a recorder. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still faintly feel the boy on her lips, taste his sweat, his tears, his blood. It was a fresh wound, oozing and throbbing throughout her entire body. To think that whoever this was was threatening to pour salt into it made her nauseous.

MJ found herself begging. Don't, she typed back, fingers shaking as they tapped against the screen. Please, it's my fault.

Bubbles popped up on her screen to signify that the unknown number was typing, but it quickly disappeared and didn't return. Icy hands seized MJ's heart as she realized just what that could mean.

"Fuck," she breathed, phone slamming down onto the table top as it slipped through her fingers. "Fuck."

The teen shot up from the table, grabbing her coat and sketchbook before reaching for the door. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, eyes landing on her darkened phone. She wasn't sure whether or not to take it. Eyes were everywhere.

Better not take my chances, MJ decided and left her apartment and hopefully the many eyes behind.

10/6/19