He wanted to say he was hungry.

But no words came out.

It was dark and he wanted to scream.

But no words came out.

His body felt heavier, the world around him was an explosion of sound that overwhelmed him, that made him want to cry.

But no words came out.

His body was not his anymore, claws and hair in places he never had it before. His back felt heavy and his teeth ripped into his tongue. He wanted, help from somebody, anybody.

But no words came out.

Only screaming.

Only screaming.

…

Peter was angry. He didn’t know what he was angry at, but he just knew he was angry.

…

Men in white coats came to him.

He started to thrash about violently; his screams were even louder. The lights were on and it hurt his eyes and he wanted to tell them but no voice came out.

Only screeches.

And then he saw a needle glinting in the light and he was scared and he started thrashing. He hated needles, he hated needles. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to scream at them.

But he had no words. All he had was the screaming. And the men in coats ignored the screaming. They always ignored the screaming. They never cared about the screaming. 

…

Peter just wanted to go home. He just wanted to sleep. But then his spider sense started buzzing and he heard people scream in the distance.

Goddammit.

…

And with a strength he didn’t have before he broke the needle.  Now they cared about the screaming. And with a strength he never had before he broke through the bindings. Now they really cared about the screaming.

They were red lights that made his eyes feel like fire, and the sound of alarm that made his head explode in pain but he didn’t care about that. He had to get out of here. He ran through endlessly twisted hallways, the sound and the lights and the shouts and the screams made him hurt all over. But staying here would hurt even more.

Men in purple took out guns. Men in purple started firing at him. And his mother told him guns kill. But these guns didn’t kill him, he could feel the pain but they didn’t kill him.

And then he found himself on a rooftop with no way to escape.

And the men with the guns were right behind him.

In the distance he saw lights, so many lights in front of him that made his eyes burn.

The men with the guns burst through the door, guns pointed at him.

(His back felt so heavy.)

The men with the guns looked they were about to kill him but he could hear the men in lab coats screaming at them.

(He could move his back)

He tried to talk to them but it was only screams, only screams.

(they were wings!)

The men with guns started to shoot but he could fly.

…

It was a rooftop party full of assholes in fancy clothes who didn’t have to worry about paying rent. Peter was inclined to just forget about them and move on but it looked like a tornado had torn through the rooftop party. Food and tables were scattered everywhere and the people in fancy clothes were all huddled up in one corner with pale faces.

Peter heard chomping and gulping in the other corner of the room. He walked through the trail of carnage, through the upturned tables and sizzling food on the floor to what looked like a midget huddled in the corner with what appeared to be a giant pink cake wrapped in his gloves. He had what seemed to be a leather cloak wrapped around his hairy body and really pointy ears.

“Hey, sir,” Peter said. “I think the people over there want you to leave.”

The midget turned his face and Peter let out an audible

“What the fuck?”

…

He followed the lights even though it burned his eyes. Even though the sounds made his head hurt. His stomach felt like a black hole and his body was shaking.

He found as soon as he was close to the lights he could smell it, food and bread and cake and chocolate. It made his body shake and he fell into the sea below.

On the coast he saw a man, he tried to ask him for food, for his mother and father but his voice wasn’t his own and the man ran away on weak legs.

He tried to ask for help but they all ran and they all screamed when they saw him. He was wondering why? He was just a boy and he just wanted his mum.

One of them had a gun and he hated the pain so he ran away, he tried to fly but he felt the gun strike his leg. He stumbled on the floor and for the first time he saw his face.

It wasn’t his face anymore.

…

He followed the smell of food.

The person… no the creature had long ears with so many nerves in them, his round black eyes were large and beady and when he spread his black leathery wings it was like he was staring at a painting of the Devil.

“What the hell are you?” Peter said.

But whenever he tried to take the food he was shot or screamed or shouted at. And if he stayed in the light for long, his eyes started to burn.

The creature screeched and Peter could see teeth, rows of teeth. Almost as much as Carnage.

But his stomach was empty and he started to feel weak. So, he flew.

The creature lashed out at Peter but Peter dodged and Peter punched the monster. It screeched but Peter punched it again.

His wings started to feel weak, he could feel the world around him fading. The world around him, the lights and the sounds became fuzzier and fuzzier and his stomach gnawed at him, the pain spreading all across his body.

The creature backed off and stumbled. Peter could swear he saw fear in its eyes but then it lunged at Peter like a starved animal. Peter kicked it across the face.

And he smelt it in the distance. Cake and meat. His wings were starting to feel heavier but he begged them, pleaded that they carry him to the food.

It spread its wings and flew away but Peter wasn’t having that, he attached a web to its legs.

He saw colours, an explosion of blurry colours that looked like flowers. When they saw him, the colours scattered like petals. The screaming was annoying but he didn’t care. He dragged himself to the food. All he wanted was food.

The creature tore through the webs with his claws. Peter leapt at the beast but it dodged him and flew off, screeching into the night sky.

All he wanted was food.

The people with fancy clothes all gathered around him asking Peter questions he didn’t have answers to. Peter swung away.

All he got was pain.

He was thankful that when he got home that Aunt May was sleeping. The TV was still on, some crappy reality TV show going on at a low volume. Peter switched off the TV and placed a gentle kiss on Aunt May’s wrinkling cheeks. He grabbed a blanket from her room and placed it over her.

When he turned around he saw all the rent payments that were overdue and he felt his heart sink.

He turned to Aunt May and saw how thin she was starting to get. He could see the dark rings under her eyes.

And his mind was made.

“Hey Bruce,” Peter said when Bruce picked up his phone.

“I’m busy,” Bruce said. He could hear the wind howling behind Batman and police sirens blaring in the distance. “Make it quick.”

“Is that Wayne internship still open?” Peter asked.

…

The beast crawled to a place away from all the noise, away from all the lights. Its stomach was still empty but he would survive the night. Thoughts raced around its mind, thoughts about food, about the lab, about its mother.

His mother, gentle smiles and delicious food. He remembered the pies she cooked and the love in her face whenever she saw him.

The beast wanted to cry.

It found out soon enough that no tears would fall.