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Chapter Two: Black as Night
Peter looked at Tessa for a long moment, soaking in what she had just said. It wasn't something he had expected and he was taken back by such a response. His once slouched and laid back stance on the ceiling straightened as he became more alert of the conversation at hand.
"...thanks..."
His hesitant reply didn't hold much volume, but he knew it was enough to be heard. He had answered the questions in somewhat bored state of mind, doing so merely to pass time. He had thought that she was doing the same. But now, for what he believed to be the first time since they had met, they were actually getting along. They were having a normal conversation. In that moment, all the things that had been said between them and all the guilt he had felt from such squabbles rushed to meet him and he suddenly felt the need to apologize for such actions.
"Hey, Ms. Tessa...sorry about...earlier. It wasn't anything personal. Sometimes, I just let my anger and frustration get the better of me and...I'm sorry."
The spider was feeling increasingly awkward. He had lost his composure, let his shields and walls drop, even if it was for a moment. He needed to regain control, steady himself. And he would use her own question to do so.
"I'm 24 right now, but depending on how much time has passed on my world, I may be 25."
There was a slight pause after his response. His mood grew darker, a stern and lifeless expression replaced the causal one that had only moments ago claimed his face.
"Yeah, I've had training. Ten years of training."
Every word that he spoke was saturated in a pool of emotions, dripping with the pain and hatred the was now boiling inside him. His eyes were locked on Tessa, but he did not see her. He saw their faces, whether they be women, children, or men. Images of such anguish in their eyes, such hopelessness, such indescribable pain, as if their very soul had been stripped from them piece by agonizing piece. His ears were listening to Tessa, but he did not hear her. Instead, he heard their screams and his screams alike, pleaing desperately for mercy, for relief from their pain, but in the end, pleaing futilely to people who showed no mercy, who gave no relief, who looked like they were possessed by Satan himself. Such vivid pictures, such gut wrenching sounds flooded his thoughts, just as they had every night, condemning him to go without sleep, without peace. Condemning him to relive every excruciating detail, for the rest of his life.
For several moments he was lost in such thoughts, but finally managed to pull himself away, bringing his attention once agian to the pale skinned telepath.
"How's that coming by the way?"


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