XVI. EVEN IN DEATH
"everybody was so happy"

THE FIRST THING SHE SEES is Peter's face, tears flowing from his eyes. His face is littered with cuts and small bruises, that she had caused no doubt. There's something else in his eyes that she can't quite place — fear? Grief?

Then she feels the pain, a constant stabbing sensation in her abdomen. It's pretty severe, worse than any physical pain she's ever experienced in her life and when she looks down, she sees why. A large metal pipe, or at least that's what it looks like, is sticking out of her stomach. Great.

Shakily, the girl moves her hand and presses it against the side of it, the skin almost instantly coated in a thick layer of blood – her blood. Peter's hand gently lays over the top of her's, helping to keep some pressure on the wound so that the bleeding may slow down. However, Isabella is well aware it's probably futile now. She's lost way too much blood already.

"That's a lot of blood," Isabella croaks out.

"Y-yeah," Peter stutters lightly, not sure what else to say to her as she lays there. It's such a familiar feeling to him, losing somebody who he loves. "You're going to be okay–"

"You don't have to lie to me, Peter. I know it's not good,"

She can taste the blood now, the metallic flavour filling her mouth. It is now leaking down her chin, staining her skin as a further reminder of how harsh this situation truly is. Isabella has feared death for a long time and now that it's finally nearing her, she doesn't know whether she's fearful — more so sad.

The sadness isn't even for herself, it's for those who she will be leaning behind. Peter and her mother, both who have lost so many people already. And this is the third time that Peter has watched somebody he cares about die, the third time.

"I saw Gwen," She breathes, a soft smile on her lips. Peter is looking down at her, obviously with no idea what to say to that. "And my dad,"

"Yeah?" He indulges her, not wanting her to fade away. His hope is if he can keep her talking, that help will arrive in time to save her. "And what was happening?"

"We had dinner. You were there too. We were eating lasagna,"

Her eyes have glazed over, almost in glee. It's like she has no idea where she is anymore, that the pain is no longer there. The girl's mind is all over the place, moments from her life flashing around in her head. It's as if every bad memory has been thrown out and she's left to relive the ones where she was truly happy. Birthday parties, family events, stuff like that.

"Everybody was so happy," She manages to say.

However, all memories begin blurring together. She can no longer see Peter clearly either, but she feel his forehead leaning against her's and his grip on her as well.

One tear, only a singular tear, runs down the side of her face as all feeling leaves her body. With one final squeeze of Peter's hand, a weak one at that, Isabella takes that last breath and with that, she's gone.

And as a result, Peter is left holding a dead loved one in his arms once again.

Her funeral had been a small one, himself and her mother along with some other family members in attendance. It is such a familiar feeling to him now, staring at her smiling picture and mourning.

"Thank you for coming,"

Peter turns his head to see the girl's mother, eyes bright red and tear stains on her cheeks. He gives her the biggest possible smile he can, which in reality is a simple twitch of his lips, and hugs her.

They've been here before, a similar situation, only months earlier. Except that time the woman had her youngest daughter to support her as well — this time there is nobody but Peter. The other family members have already left, leaving the two of them and his Aunt May who was standing off to the side.

"I'm so sorry," Peter mumbles, unsure of what else to say.

"Thank you, Peter. She would really appreciate you being here, even after all the things she did," The last part trails off, almost in disbelief that her daughter had been involved in those events on the news.

"That wasn't really her,"

"I know, but it's so strange to think that of all the people in the city, that man chose my daughter,"

Otto Octavius had, rightfully, been charged after the events. Messages were found on the girl's phone that pointed straight to the scientist as the person who had done this to Isabella. Hopefully, he will go away for a long long time.

"He saw she was vulnerable," Peter speaks quietly, shaking his head lightly. "He knew what he was doing and Bella was just in the crossfire,"

"My daughter had such a bright future. Did she tell you she got accepted into Yale?" The woman replies.

"Really? She didn't mention it,"

Yale had been her top school of choice, he knew that, but he didn't know she'd got in.

"Anyway, you should drop by the house later. I found something in her room that was addressed to you, thought you might like it,"

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely, I'll drop by,"

It took him a few days before he could. The man was unable to face it, constantly thinking of the last few times he'd been there. Last time, she was her normal self — so happy and willing to help him out with his grief when she was still struggling with her own.

"It's just down the hall to the left. I put it on the bed," Isabella's mother states, directing Peter towards the girl's bedroom.

Peter makes his way there, stopping for a second to look at what had been Gwen's room before making his way inside. The girl's room projected her personality, bright and covered in pieces of art. It looks almost untouched, even though Mrs Stacy had been through it. Most of her clothes had gone to the local F.E.A.S.T. Shelter where his Aunt volunteers quite frequently — he had been there when they were brought in.

There, on the bed, is a large canvas that is covered by a towel which has paint strewn all over the material. Grabbing the edge, he gently lifts it up and looks at what's beneath it.

He almost staggers back, biting his lip gently to stop himself from crying out. The mixture of colours combine on the canvas to create a very clear image, one that he's seen several times. Peter and Gwen together in their graduation outfits, large smiles on their faces — he's pretty sure Isabella had been the one to take the original photo.

It was one of the last photos he ever took with the blonde before she passed and here it is, large and bright.

His fingers skin over it, touching the side of Gwen's face. Peter's gaze stays on her for a few moments before it moves to the bottom corner. The man swallows harshly as he sees her signature with the small bee drawn beside it.

He lifts the picture up and scrunches his brows together when he sees an envelope on the bed with his name scribbled on the front. Peter opens it up and reads it, looking at the familiar handwriting.

Dear Peter,

I finally finished it! Took a few late nights but it's finally done. I plan on sending this straight to your front door so I thought a letter would be smart. I love this photo and I know you do too so I decided I'd make this for you. I hope you have a place for it in your apartment!

I know you waited a long time for it so I hope it lives up to your expectation. Call me when it arrives so I know it got there safely otherwise I'll have to redo it for you (which will suck because you waited so long).

I'm rambling now, but hopefully you like your gift and I'll see you next week for that dinner mum has planned :)

Lots of love,

NOTE!

Hello everybody!! Thank you for sticking around this long, there is only the two part epilogue left so I hope you stick around for those as well.

Thank you for reading!!