Peter felt numb. Everything had been fine that morning. He had woken up early, had breakfast with aunt May, then went to school with his Spiderman suit in his bag. School had been fine - Flash hadn't even been as bad as usual - and then he had gone on patrol. He went back home earlier than usual, and by the time May came back from work he had dinner ready for them. They ate their pizzas on the couch while watching a Star Wars movie. But then Peter watched as May's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she started seizing. The rest was a blur. He remembered dialing 911, and holding May to keep her from hurting herself as her body seized. He remembered hearing the sirens of the ambulance, and seeing May lifted on a gurney. Medical jargon as the ambulance workers examined May on the way to the hospital, Peter trying to stay out of their way in the small space. And then waiting as they took her away, leaving him in the waiting room. It felt like days before a doctor finally approached him, only to tell him it was too late. May had died due to a ruptured brain aneurysm.<br/><br/>Peter didn't know how long he had been sitting there since the doctor left him alone. He still hadn't gone in to see May. He didn't know what to do. May was the only family he had left, and now she was gone too. He couldn't help but go over the things to come. He had to plan a funeral. Call May's work to tell them she wouldn't be coming in anymore. Call everyone she had cared about to invite them to her funeral to say goodbye. Find a new home. CPS would probably get there soon to take him away. Who knew where he was going to end up. He was still underage so he had no choice in the matter, but he had heard enough stories about orphaned teens to know that no family would be interested in adopting a 16 year old. He'd end up in the foster system, and that wasn't a good thing either. The America foster system was broken. As all these thoughts raced through his mind, he came to a conclusion. He couldn't do this on his own. He needed help. There was only one person he could call. Before he knew what he was doing he had slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed the one person he needed most. He stared at the wall as he listened to the phone ring. It didn't take long before it was answered, but he remained silent for half a minute before finally opening his mouth. "Mr Stark?" His voice was soft, and there was a slight shake in it. "Can you come here? I'm at the hospital. Aunt May is dead." He was vaguely aware of the tears now streaming down his face. He made no move to wipe them away.