Time Passes So Slowly

Peter has barely moved off the bed at Steve's Clubhouse for the last two weeks. And for him... since time passed so differently in his head... it was really more like a month.

A month of basically just sleeping his life away. Barely getting out of bed to go to the washroom, or to get more water, or eat something basic. He felt like he was moving like molasses... slowly.

His mind kept replaying the last moments with Jean and the others over and over. Trying to find the moment that he messed up. That everything went wrong.

When he was awake, he felt like crying. But he just didn't have enough energy to cry anymore. It just came out as something half pathetic. A drained sob of him trying to catch his breath. And then he would hug the pillow to his chest, and go back to sleep.

He just didn't know what was wrong. And just couldn't muster any energy at all.