all he could remember was pain. the sharp shooting pain
all over his body. the hot, crimson liquid as it pooled on his
skin and soaked into his shirt. then there was darkness. it
was over. he was gone . . . or so pietro thought.
there was more pain though this was different. it was not
the kind that destroyed the body and broke it apart. no, it
was the kind that mended it. that regrew. he awoke from
the darkness but not fully, only in consciousness. he knew
that he screamed and cried out for mercy as his body did
rebuild itself. the call of his sister’s name even left his lips
several times. but all he saw was darkness and no means
to an end of this torture. but, once again, he was wrong.
now he laid in a bed in the best hospital of new york, his
body hooked up to several machines to monitor just
what was going on inside. days passed in that bed. the
regrowth stage had passed and now it was time for him
to simply wake, but still he didn’t. not until wanda arrived.
he could hear her voice and her heartbeat, feel the touch
of her hand upon his. he was quiet as he laid there, willing
his body to wake the hell up. and slowly, but surely, his
eyes fluttered open, and glassy orbs gazed around in
confusion. where was he? what was happening. he sat
up in a panic, beginning to thrash at the tubes and IV,
trying anything he could to get loose and get out.
