CHAPTER SIX
Take Me Home

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WHEN UNCLE DROPPED Cecelia off at her apartment, leaving her with a wave and a 'see you soon' as if he hadn't just beaten the shit out of her, the world seemed to crumble at her feet. She glanced up at her apartment building, going two, three, four, five stories up until her eyes locked onto her bedroom window. It was lit up with fairy lights and plastered with a few stickers Eva had insisted on putting on. The blinds were closed halfway, revealing only peeks of the room. Cecelia could picture it all in vivid detail, anyway.

She backed away, and her sneakers scuffed against the ground, accidentally crushing a cigarette. When she lifted her foot, she found it flattened to the ground, and her stomach twisted. Which was stupid, because they hadn't even happened today, but her mind wasn't making much sense right now. So, she couldn't go back home now. Mom and Dad would ask questions, and Cecelia certainly wasn't in the right state to answer them. Cover story or not.

It would have been comforting to have the hood of the Phantom suit to shield her face with, but instead, Cecelia was back in her party dress. Other than the drops of fruit punch that had speckled it after Uncle had called her, it was in a fairly clean state, which was antithetical to... everything else. Her hair, now out of its bun, was frizzy and mangled, tied up in knots. Her legs were streaked in dirt, with bits of gravel still implanted into her skin. And her face...

She couldn't see it, but she could tell it was bad. Every time she even took a breath, pain exploded into her cheek, her forehead, her nose. Blood flooded her mouth from her swollen tongue, and given the way it protested at the slightest movement, it was easy to assume that eating was going to be a pain tomorrow. Maybe talking, too.

Rubbing her bare arms in an attempt to bring some warmth back into them, Cecelia began to head down the sidewalk. She had no idea where she was going, but she did know that she just couldn't handle seeing her family right now. Not Mom and Dad, with their creased brows and downturned lips. Not Jules and Eva, too innocent for Cecelia's world. And certainly not Alex. His earlier words were even more mocking, now.

"Maybe I'm sick of being completely ignored by my own fucking uncle."

"And you never say anything. Anything to spend more time with good old Uncle Rick."

"I get that you're his favourite, but that doesn't make it hurt any less, okay?"

Everyone knew that it was dangerous to walk the streets of Queens alone at night, even with Spider-Man (ugh) on the prowl. Tonight, though, Cecelia didn't find it in herself to care. She still had her stunners in her bag, so if she really ended up in a rough spot, she could get herself out. Probably. Maybe.

Did it even matter anymore?

Sirens blared. Car horns honked. Planes rocketed by. Garbage, piss, car exhaust and vent fumes all combined into a nose-pinching stench that invaded Cecelia's nostrils. She kept walking, keeping her head ducked and letting her hair act as a curtain. Suddenly, New York's dirty sidewalks—littered with abandoned gum, more cigarette butts, empty plastic bags, and the occasional weed sprouting from its cracks—were the most interesting things in the world.

Cecelia didn't know how long she'd been walking before her legs finally gave out on her. The workout they'd been forced to endure an hour earlier had made them already shaky, and now they were flat-out exhausted. She finally sank down onto a bench, then almost started crying at the way it was built. Four bars separated the bench into sections, supposedly to act as armrests. But it was obvious that their true purpose was to keep the homeless from sleeping on them.

When she'd been younger, she'd wanted to save every sad sack she'd come across. The Big Apple had an abundance of those in need, and yet, Cecelia had been so desperate to try. Give the homeless beggar money so she could eat. Plead with her parents to take the mangy dog to the vet, even though it was crawling with fleas and had an infection rotting its side. Tip her waiters generously, because restaurant jobs didn't pay as well as they should have.

Now, she wasn't so naïve. She could never save everyone. She couldn't even save herself. So why even try? There was a reason most people turned their heads when they saw a skin-and-bones child tucked up in an alleyway or a man clad in clothes so ragged they were more hole than fabric. Because there was no point.

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her head upon them. Her vision blurred, and that was when she realized she really was crying, great sobs that racked her chest and made her nose run. It hurt to cry, but it hurt even more to keep it all bottled in.

Why did she have to go to that party? Why couldn't she have just gone to the deal? She was never going to be normal, and there was no reason to pretend to be. Uncle had been right when he'd called her a mutant. That was what she was. Unnatural. Abnormal. A freak.

She was still on the crew, so she hadn't ruined her chances with Uncle yet, but that didn't mean much. He would change his mind eventually. He'd kick her to the curb, and she'd have nowhere to go.

Cecelia might have gone on crying—even though it was totally pathetic—while the few New Yorkers still out and about walked past her like she wasn't even there. She would have—she was going to—until she was roused out of her reverie by a thump. One that occurred right beside her.

"Hey, excuse me, are you okay?"

Cecelia jerked her head up to meet a very familiar sight. Two exaggerated white lenses made to imitate eyes. A red mask fitted over the face. A spider emblem on the chest.

No way. No. Way. This was not happening right now.

Spider-Man, who'd been crouched on one of the stupid bench bars, jerked back when he caught sight of her face. Probably because it looked awful. Cecelia felt everything—the way her right eye was swollen shut, completely puffy, the bruises that were forming on her cheek and jaw, the blood that trickled down her forehead from where one of Uncle's rings had opened a gash. Her nose was nearly double its usual size, though fortunately unbloodied. All in all, a zero-out-of-ten on the sexiness level.

Cecelia was about to leap to her feet and raise her fists when she remembered she wasn't Phantom. Right now, she was just an average citizen, not the 'villain' Spider-Man had been attempting to both fight and banter with back at the bridge. Not the lady with the rocket boots and strange abilities he obviously hadn't quite figured out yet.

"Ce—" Spider-Man started, then quickly cut himself off. His voice deepened a little, and whatever familiarity Cecelia had heard when she'd been fighting him vanished. "Oh, wow. What happened to your face? Are you okay? Nope, that's a stupid question, given the fact that you were crying, but... oh, my God. What happened?"

Cecelia sniffed. Blood congealed in the back of her throat. "Go away, Spider-Man."

"Hey, that's not very nice. I'm just trying to help."

"All you're doing is being annoying. I'm fine."

"You didn't seem fine three seconds ago."

"Well, Abracadabra, Alakazam, I'm fine now. You can leave."

"What happened?" Spider-Man asked again, tilting his head. "No offense, but most people don't just... look like that. Unless you do! I'm not trying to assume anything."

By Creator, he was annoying. The temptation to get out her stunners and blast him into next week was tempting, but that was a surefire way for him to determine her identity. Which would inevitably lead to the discovery of her uncle and his business, and basically take everyone down with her. She took a deep breath in and forced herself not to lash out. "I got mugged."

"What? Oh, my God, what happened?"

"What usually happens when people get mugged," Cecelia responded. "I got shoved into an alleyway, gun in my face, then beat up for good measure. Thanks for helping me, by the way. There goes my birthday money."

"It's your birthday?"

"No. My birthday's in June. I was just carting it around."

Spider-Man sighed, then—incredibly—took a seat on the bench beside her. It was such a surreal experience, having the guy you were just battling with an hour ago chill with you like nothing was wrong. Cecelia wondered if Uncle had rattled her brains in her head when he'd been hitting her.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding stupidly genuine. Cecelia would've felt bad if not for the fact that he was technically her enemy now. "I was caught up in this other thing, but I still should've been there. Can you tell me about the person who attacked you? What did they look like?"

Cecelia very nearly snorted. Oh, you know, brown hair, leather jacket, sunglasses. Also happens to be my uncle by adoption. "I don't know. The guy was wearing a hoodie and a mask. I couldn't see his face."

"Well, that's... inconvenient. I'll keep a look out, okay? Make sure this doesn't happen again. But in the meantime, you really shouldn't be out alone. Can I take you home?"

Really? "I think I'll be okay. Queens isn't that dangerous."

"Uh... you just got mugged."

"Yeah, but I doubt it'll happen a second time. Statistics, and all that."

"I think I really should insist—"

"No."

"But—"

"I'm not interested."

Spider-Man scrubbed his hands down his face. "Come on, just work with me here! You shouldn't have to go home all alone. Not after... not after what you just went through."

Cecelia sighed exaggeratedly. He really was a super-pest. If only she was still in her Phantom costume. She could've taken him out in seconds. "If I say yes, will you walk silently beside me and leave me alone?"

"Walk? Who said anything about walking?"

"I'm not taking the subway."

"I didn't mean that. I meant..." A web shot out of his wrist, and Cecelia nearly leaped to the defense again. It was too much like their battle earlier. "I don't know if you've heard of me, but I can move a lot faster than the subway."

"No way. No way." Cecelia was already vehemently shaking her head, scooting away from the vigilante. A few men walked by on the sidewalk, then did a double-take at the sight of a beat-up girl sitting on a bench next to Spider-Man. She sneered at them.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer."

When they moved on, muttering to each other, Spider-Man shifted slightly. "Are you afraid of heights? Is that it?"

"No. Look, my apartment isn't that far from here, all right? You don't need to swing me over. If you're so insistent on coming with me, you can walk the three blocks. Without saying anything. It hasn't even been five minutes, and you've already given me a headache."

She swore Spider-Man was frowning underneath his mask. "You know, you're kinda mean."

"I get that a lot." Cecelia stood up and began walking, slinging her bag back over her shoulder. It was only then that she was reminded of her phone in the front pocket. Shit. She probably had, like, a dozen texts from Christine by now.

Spider-Man hastened to follow her. On the ground, walking along casually, he looked like a doofus in his costume. Still, for the first minute, he actually listened to Cecelia's request and kept his mouth shut. It was a blissful sixty seconds until minute two came. Then he spoke again.

"So, what's your name, by the way? I hope you don't mind sharing, especially since I can't share mine back—you know, keeping my identity secret and everything. But, uh, I can't keep calling you 'that mean girl' in my head."

"It's better than what I've been calling you," Cecelia muttered, stopping at a crosswalk. She genuinely was grumpy right now, but she realized that, as she stood there, Spider-Man's interference had actually taken the edge off her weepy-ness. She was no longer the puddle she'd been five minutes ago; now, she was back to normal Cecelia—prickly as a cactus, as her mother had once told her. Cecelia had shot back that she'd rather be prickly than soft.

Because of this, she decided to tell the truth. Why not? It wasn't like it would somehow help him figure out who she was. "Cecelia."

"That's a nice name."

"Thank you."

"Does anyone ever call you CeCe?"

"No."

"Really? I thought that was a common nickname for Cecelia."

"My parents call me Lia. My friends call me Cee, sometimes. Everyone else calls me Cecelia."

"Can I call you CeCe?"

"Knock yourself out. It's not like we're ever going to see each other again."

At least not when you know it's me.

"That's the spirit!" The streetlight turned green, and the crosswalk indicated they could go. Cecelia did, Spider-Man still at her heels. "CeCe is nice, but you're right. I really hope we don't see each other again. Not—not because I don't like you! Just because it would mean that you would be in trouble again."

"I'm not offended. You know why? Because I also hope we never see each other again. And not because it would mean that I would be in trouble."

Spider-Man pouted. It was honestly a surprise that he was still accompanying her. Cecelia had been as rude as possible in an attempt to shake him off, but he was sticky as those stupid webs of his. Fortunately, the rest of the walk didn't take long. The two of them—the most unlikely duo in the history of unlikely duos—spent the rest of it engaging in this sort of banter, with Cecelia being flat-out disrespectful and Spider-Man letting it bounce off him. The more she spoke with him, the younger he seemed. Betty's assessment of him as a thirty-year-old man seemed off; he was likely only in college. Maybe only a few years older than Cecelia herself.

When they arrived back at her apartment complex, she saluted him sarcastically. "Thanks for the company, oh mighty hero. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Spider-Man didn't rise to the bait. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to talk to your parents about what happened?"

"Absolutely not. Seriously, you've done enough. Goodbye."

Cecelia pushed her way through the front doors, leaving a bewildered Spider-Man out on the street. Before she could get too far away from him, however, he waved. "You're welcome!"

Cecelia hit the button for the elevator. It slid open, and she stepped inside. It was only when the doors closed that she sank against the wall. Her chest tightened again, and... oh, no. Please, not now.

Fortunately, her anxiety didn't expand into a full-blown panic attack. Cecelia leaned her head against the cool tile of the elevator wall and sucked in deep breaths. It was hard to believe that only this morning, she'd been fighting with Alex. Only this afternoon, she'd played Would you Rather and F, Marry, Kill with Liz, Betty, and Seymour. Only earlier this evening, she'd been at Liz's party.

Speaking of... she finally dug her phone out of her bag. When she turned it on, she was greeted with fifteen texts. Thirteen were from Christine.

CHRIS: Where are you??? Abe said you had to go to the bathroom but that was twenty minutes ago?? Are you okay?

CHRIS: Okay, so you're not in the bathroom. Thanks for making me check, BTW—I caught three of the cheerleaders vaping in there.

CHRIS: Seriously, though, are you okay? Did you leave?

CHRIS: Can you please answer me?

CHRIS: Cee?

CHRIS: Can you please pick up my calls?

CHRIS: I'm getting really worried. I hope you're not answering because you just put your phone on silent. I can't find you anywhere.

It went on like this for five more messages, all of them getting increasingly desperate. There were also ten missed calls from her, which made Cecelia feel more than a little guilty. Then there was one text from Liz and another from Jules:

LIZ ALLEN: thanks for coming to my party! christine told me you left in a hurry—I hope you're alright! see you in practice tomorrow <333

LITTLEST BRO: can i play on ur ipad while ur at the party

Sucking in a breath, Cecelia figured she should at least respond to Christine. She had been pretty scummy to totally abandon Christine like that. Even if it had been for something as important as the deal. Even if she hadn't actually wanted to.

So, as the elevator doors glided open, her thumbs darted over the screen, composing a response.

ME: sorry, I was feeling really sick and decided to head home.

Christine responded immediately.

CHRIS: Are you okay?

ME: not exactly?

CHRIS: What does that mean?

ME: ...tell you tomorrow?

Despite the immediate buzz of another text message coming through, Cecelia put her phone back in her bag. She'd reached her apartment's number, now, and could hear the low murmur of the television from behind the door. Just in case someone was nearby, she went through the whole ordeal of digging her keys out of her bag and unlocking the door instead of just walking right through. Then she pushed it open, bracing herself for the inevitable storm that would follow.

"Honey!" As Cecelia let the door close behind her with a soft click, Mom's voice came from the living room. "You're home early! How was the party?"

"Um..."

"I'm so proud of you, Lia. I know how hard it is for you to put yourself out there, but you did it. Hey, is Alex with you? He told me he might be getting a ride home with friends, but—oh, my God!"

Mom had made her way out of the living room and into the front hallway to greet her. Eva followed her in her pajamas, hair wet from a recent shower. Her nose was buried in her phone, so she wasn't paying attention to Cecelia's state—but Mom was. Her eyes went comically wide, and a hand went over her mouth.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Cecelia. What happened?"

"Huh?" Eva finally looked up. Then she sucked in a breath. "Woah."

"Michael!" Mom shouted. "Get in here!" Then, to Cecelia: "Okay, okay, honey, sit down. Eva, go get her an ice pack, okay?"

For once, Eva didn't argue. She just bobbed her head and scampered off. Soon, though, she was replaced with two more people—a sleepy Jules, using Cecelia's iPad (the traitor), and a still dressed Dad. They both had nearly identical reactions to Mom when their eyes landed on Cecelia's face. Their mouths fell open, their eyebrows shot up, and their faces paled.

"Sit down," Mom said again. Tears were filling her eyes. "Oh, Cecelia. Honey, sweetie, you look... what happened?"

Cecelia did sit down. Dad and Mom sat on either side of her, while Jules just stood, pale as a sheet. "Are you okay, Lia?" he asked, in the tiniest of voices.

"I'm... I'm okay," Cecelia responded. She squinted her swollen eye and found she was able to see through a slit in it. "It's just... I wasn't feeling well, so I decided to go back early, but on the way there..." She went for the same story she'd told Spider-Man. "I got mugged."

"What?" Mom's hands flew over her mouth.

"Jesus," Dad breathed.

"I'm okay. Really. Just... a little banged up."

"More than a little!" cried Mom, nearly hysterical. "Oh, my sweet, sweet, Cecelia. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"How did it happen?" Jules asked. Eva returned with several ice packs, and Mom took one, holding it to Cecelia's eye.

"It was like the movies," Cecelia responded. "I was walking past an alleyway, and then, before I knew it, I got shoved right in. The guy was an amateur, though. He didn't seem to know what he was doing. He didn't even have a weapon, he just threatened he'd go to pound town if I didn't give him what he wanted. He didn't like what I had, though, so he sort of... took his anger out on me?"

She attempted to make the story as tame as possible, which was a difficult task considering the fact that she was beat to all hell. Fuck. Uncle usually wasn't this careless. His punishments were in places no one would look. Like the cigarette burn on her side, or the faded lines on her upper arms. But it seemed that tonight, he'd been so mad that he hadn't cared.

"Oh, my baby," Mom breathed, her hands now over her heart.

"Why didn't you call us?" Dad asked. "Or the police? Was your phone broken?"

Cecelia shook her head. "No. Um, funny story, but... Spider-Man saved me."

Eva's phone went slipping through her fingers. She only just managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "What?"

"Yeah. He swooped in right when things were getting real bad and knocked the guy out. Then he helped me up and walked me home."

"Spider-Man walked you home?" Eva shrieked. It seemed she'd already forgotten the whole 'my sister just got mugged' thing. "Oh, my God, really?"

"Eva..." Dad warned.

"Yeah," Cecelia said, regardless. "He's kind of a loser in real life, but I guess I do owe him for saving me. I was... I was pretty scared."

"Oh, Cecelia." Mom gathered her into a hug. Cecelia hugged her back, even though they'd never been her thing, and sniffed. Tears were pooling in her eyes again. Not because of her injuries, not even because of what had happened, but because of the lie. It had come so easily. Flowing off her tongue like nothing. She didn't even consider the idea of telling the truth. "I'm here, now. It's okay. You're okay."

Dad joined the embrace, and so did Jules, his small arms coming to wrap around Cecelia. "I'm okay," she kept saying. "I really am okay."

No one listened to her. Probably because they knew that wasn't the truth. There was no way she would be okay after an ordeal like that. And there was no way she wasn't in pain.

Even though Cecelia was fifteen years old and not five, Mom and Dad insisted on staying near her while she got ready for bed. They hovered outside the door while she shed Christine's dress and slid into a clean pair of pajamas. They watched over her as she brushed her teeth, wincing as the action irritated her tongue. And most humiliatingly, they tucked her into bed like she actually was a child. Mom even offered to bring out the teddy bear Uncle had given her when she was ten, and Cecelia had to resist the urge to scream at her.

"I'm okay," she kept saying, over and over. "I'm okay."

"You don't have to be," Dad said, his voice wavering a little. "Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean you have to be the strongest, Lia. It's okay not to be okay. We're here for you."

He pressed a kiss to her head. A bolt of anger went through Cecelia.

Are you here for me? Are you really? Then where were you? Where have you been?

This couldn't be normal. What Uncle had done—it... it couldn't be. She may have deserved discipline, but this was... this had been...

"Good night," Cecelia muttered, otherwise she might start screaming.

Where have you been? Why haven't you been there?

Mom squeezed her hand. "Sleep tight, munchkin. I love you."

Instead of saying it back, Cecelia closed her eyes.

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HAVEN: i don't really know what to say except that i hope the last chapter didn't scare you off. i tried to make it as tame as i possibly could with a fade-to-black, but obviously it was still quite a heavy topic. honestly, my heart hurts for her, and she's a) my oc, and b) not even real. God.

the next chapters will definitely be more tame, though uncle dick will unfortunately still be there 😡still, we're getting more petercece content (yes, that is their ship name. please don't make fun of me for it. i haven't gotten over the relentless bullying about sinclairgrieves /j), gravity falls and tangled references, and cecelia making up with alex! i hope you're at least excited for that lmao

thank you for reading <3333