Chapitre 228: Cindy meets Peter
Cindy shrugged and let her head fall back onto the cushions of the old sofa. Static in the television was a better reality than the forced laugh was. It was some kind of weird noise that echoed inside, in her crazy thoughts, and for one reason, she thought to just leave them there. At least then she would have something to listen to at the end.
She shuts her eyes. The sounds of the bunker grow louder, clearer, in her vacant mind. In this place, the bad air chokes up into her lungs, warning her not to linger too long. She hasn't seen sunlight in... how long? The days blur by with an emptiness not much different from nothing.
Cindy pulled herself off the couch feeling exhausted, as if the gravity within the bunker had magnified with time. She moved to that messy pile of paper and bent down, stretching her arm out for the ball she had thrown just before. She flattened it against her knee and looked at the half-written page in front of her.
"Am I brave? Or just a coward," she whispered, tracing her finger over the words. She crumpled it again, this time tighter, and held it in her fist.
She stood up and paced the small confines of the bunker, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Her gaze darted to the keypad on the wall again, the door it controlled looming like a giant, unspoken challenge.
"You can go," the voice in her head sneered. "You should go. What is the purpose of all this if you feel hollow inside?"
"No," she whispered softly, shaking her head at the same time, strongly. "I can't. If I go..." Her words trailed off. She did not need to say another word. She already knew the answer. But the doubts kept coming, without letting up. 'What if Morlun was dead? What if something - or someone else - had already taken care of him? What if the world outside had moved on, leaving her out there as just a recollection of a battle already won?'
The what-ifs seemed never-ending, like a sea of questions that could overwhelm her.
"Stop!" Cindy yelled, shouting across the bunker. She picked up the closest thing she could find, a small metal stool, and threw it into the corner of the room. It crashed into the wall and fell to the floor with a great thud.
She collapsed onto the floor, her chest heaving for breath. Her hands shook as she looked at the mess before her. The stool was lying on its side, one leg bent from where it had hit the floor.
"I just couldn't take it anymore," she whispered, her eyes streaming with tears.
It was one of her many firsts, crying. For years, she had not cried for what would never again be hers: the life she lost, the friends whom she would never meet again, and the future that her decision snatched away from her. She cried for the girl she once was... Full of dreams, full of hope, and full of fire inside her that no one could put out.
She sat back as the tears stopped, shuddering in her with fatigue. Blowing across her palm from the back of her hand, she looked again at the keypad.
It was still there, waiting for her.
"No," she said, this time definitively standing up to clean herself. "Not yet."
But something in her had been affected. Doubts were still there, but they had taken hold and had bred into a small seed of rebellion.
Cindy walked over to the journal and picked it up again. She flipped to a blank page and wrote:
[Day Unknown]
[I'm still here. I'm still alive. I'm still waiting. But maybe, it's time to stop waiting.]
She stared at the words for a moment or two, then she closed the journal and put it aside.
For the first time in years, Cindy allowed herself to dream a little about what life might be like beyond the confines of the bunker. In that instance, the faint spark of hope was enough to keep going forward.
However, the loud noise from the other side of the door, made her jump up in surprise. She ran over to the door and pressed her ear against it. It was unmistakable; someone was pounding on it.
She felt her heart racing in her chest, and her hands started getting sweaty as she realized that someone was trying to break into her home. By the noise, she thought that a first barrier - a strong steel door - was broken. The metallic sound of bending and ripping off the door from the hinges made her feel very fearful.
She hurried to the other side of the bunker and removed the fuse, making the room dark.
'Is it Morlun? Did he find me? Is this finally the end?' Her thoughts raced through her head as she backed into a corner, watching the door for any sign of movement. Then a loud bang came from the main door. She webbed up to the ceiling and stayed there without making a single noise.
In the next moment, the door to her bunker, flew open and slammed into the wall with a loud crash. Cindy tensed, her muscles coiled like a spring as her enhanced senses kicked in. Hanging upside down on the ceiling, she narrowed her eyes to look through the darkness. Her spider powers allowed her to see the intruder's silhouette. Tall, lean, and in a weird-looking suit, the figure stepped into the bunker.
Her pulse quickened, her mind racing with possibilities. 'It has to be Morlun. Who else could it be? No one else could have found her or broken through the bunker's defenses.'
Her hand instinctively shot out a web, snagging a nearby pipe. She used it to silently swing closer, staying shrouded in the shadows. She had to strike fast, strike first—before he had the chance to react.
The figure took another step forward. His head turned slightly, scanning the darkness. "Cindy,"
Cindy didn't wait. Her gut had told her to react, and she listened immediately. In one swift motion, she released the webline, falling from the ceiling like a snake, plunging straight towards the intruder. Her fists were clenched, her body was moving at breakneck speed as she leaped at him.
The man moved, fast—too fast for anyone human. He twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding her strike, and Cindy hit the ground in a crouch. She rolled forward and came up swinging, her fists like lightning, each blow aimed at vital points: his throat, his ribs, his temple. Whoever he was, she wouldn't let him take her without a fight.
He just didn't counterattack; he dodged her kicks, blocked her webs, and sidestepped her attacks effortlessly. The harder Cindy tried, the more frustrated she became-the viciousness of her strikes increased.
"Calm down, Cindy!" the man said. His voice was loud but not unkind. "I'm not your enemy!"
"Liar!" Cindy spat, her voice trembling with fury and fear. She spun, her leg sweeping low in an attempt to knock him off balance. He jumped over it easily, his reflexes maddeningly perfect.
"Listen to me!" the man said again, this time louder, as he caught her wrist mid-punch. His grip was firm but not cruel. "I'm not Morlun!"
His words stopped Cindy short. She froze, her eyes wide, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What did you say?" she demanded. "How do you know about him?"
"I know a lot about you, Cindy Moon," the man said. "My name is Peter Parker."
"You're lying! That's not possible." She pulled her arm free and stepped back, staring at him warily.
"Morlun is dead. He isn't coming back to hurt you or anyone," He said, looking at her intently. "You can come out of hiding now."
"What are you talking about? How do you know all this?" Her voice wavered, uncertain. "How can I trust you? Sims said Morlun is immortal, he can't be killed."
"Sims lied. Morlun isn't an immortal but a vampire-like being, or you can call him a vampire, surviving on life essence. Once you drain that life essence out of him, he dies like any other creature," Peter said, his voice calm, reassuring. "I am Peter Parker, the one who fought with Morlun and defeated him."
"What about Sims?" She asked. "Why isn't he here?"
"He's dead. That's all you need to know. Now, c'mon, let's get out of here," Peter extended his hand towards Cindy, offering it to her.
Cindy hesitated, her eyes darting between his face and his hand. Finally, after a long pause, she reached out and took it.
His grip was strong, but not crushing, as he helped her to stand up. She was trembling, both from exhaustion and relief. "So, what now?" She asked, looking up at him.
"Now, we go home."
"Home?" Cindy repeated, uncertainly. "I don't have a home. My family is dead, and my friends—I don't even remember their faces..."
Peter smiled kindly at her. "Don't worry, you'll have a new home and new friends. You're not alone anymore, Cindy." He put his arm around her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
For the first time in years, Cindy felt a faint flicker of hope rising within her.
Tears filled her eyes as she leaned into Peter's embrace, letting out a sob of relief and gratitude. Peter held her close, gently rubbing her back, and for the first time in years, she felt safe, secure.
"It's alright," Peter whispered softly. "Everything is going to be alright now."
Cindy burst out in tears as she clung onto Peter for dear life, letting all the fear and anger and sadness wash over her.
Peter let her cry, not saying anything more, just holding her while she wept. He knew there was nothing he could say to take away her pain; all he could do was offer her comfort and support.
As Cindy sobbed, Peter's words echoed in her mind: 'You're not alone anymore, Cindy.'
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