The sight of her slipping off the ledge…the sight of her free falling from that great height…the sickening, gruesome sound of her neck cracking back, as a thin strand of webbing wrapped itself around her ankle…to her lifeless form dangling from her webbed noose… But there is no time for reprieve, as heart wrenching sorrow swiftly turns into blind red rage. The rage, the fury, it hits him like a lighting bolt that travels from head to toe and throws it at the green garbed manic, standing over him, in a state mocking laughter. "You murdered the only girl I'll ever love…and today's the day you're going to die!", Spider-Man screamed, piercing the darkening night sky as he held Gwen Stacy's lifeless form close to him. The Green Goblin just kept laughing.

Spider-Man's fury blinds him, all a blurry haze the next thing he sees is the Green Goblin crucified by his own flying tin-can. The living essence drained from the Goblin's impaled body. The sight doesn't ebb the aching in his heart, not one bit. The image of Norman Osborn's face void of any signs of life, will forever haunt him. Now on the roof, atop the musty old warehouse, Spider-Man aimlessly walks with a tidal wave of mournful thoughts slamming against the base of his skull.

His legs feel heavier with each step he takes…with each passing thought, they get heavier and heavier. She's dead…oh god she's dead. The Green Goblin killed her, but it was all my fault…all my fault. The only girl I'll ever love, dead because of me. I failed you Captain Stacy, I broke my promise...and I failed you. I've made such a mess of things. The mournful ache burns his body, it stabs at him like hot pins and needles, red hot pain sears through muscle and sinew. His heavy heart weighing him down like some wicked ball and chain. The Green Goblin, dead…no…not the Goblin, Norman Osborn…he's dead. Oh god, Harry's father, he's dead…dead because of me…all because of me. I've made such a mess of things. Step after step, stab after stab, becoming all the more harder for Spider-Man to breathe, his lungs slowly fill with an icy black cold, slowly numbing his insides.

Everything's my fault! No! It's all Spider-Man's fault…it's all Spider-Man's fault. He's the one responsible. This mess is all his doing. Everything is his fault!

With those shaky thoughts knocking into his skull, the shadow of Spider-Man holds Peter Parker down like an anchor. Making each passing step heavier…and heavier still. The Spider-Man suit bonded onto Peter feels like a dead weight he can't shake off, as he makes his way, slowly, to the ledge of the roof. Past the blood pounding in his ears he hears the screeching of sirens, they may as well be a million miles away.

But I am Spider-Man! Peter Parker is Spider-Man! It's all my fault, everything's my fault. Because I was selfish, because I was hot-headed, because I needed a feeling of self-worth. Everyone close to me I've hurt, everyone I care about that's been put in harm's way is because Peter Parker is Spider-Man! Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Joe Robertson, Harry Osborn, Mary Jane, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Captain Stacy…and now Gwen is dead…all because of me…all because of my selfishness.

Step after step, they get heavier and heavier as he inches closer to the edge. Head bowed in sorrow, he marches on like a solemn prisoner on death row, walking to his fate…walking to his death. This will make it all better…this will make everything go away…never again will anyone I love be put in harm's way…never again will anyone I love be grabbed by death's icy cold fingers.

Each step brings him one inch closer to the edge, step by step…inch by inch…until he finally reaches the ledge of the roof. Down below, the heart of the city is alive, the sirens wail, the lights are blindingly bright, New York's inhabitants peer on entranced and hypnotized. The sirens and the lights, they heckle and taunt him and egg him on, like those on the city street who recoil in fear at the very sight of him or his deadly foes who taunt and laugh at him, all enticing him to jump. In that moment his throat goes dry, the air sucks itself from his lungs. His costume feels even heavier than it did a minute ago. The pins and needles still stabbing away at him, numbing and dulling his senses.

This is the only way…the only thing left to do…everything will be better this way…no one else will ever get hurt because of me…ever…

Just one step over, then another and he'll be free…but he freezes and his stomach tries to crawl up his throat. He can't do it…he can't do it. For seconds he stares off into the distance, his brain rattled and numb. Then a breeze floats by, carrying the pleasant chill of the ocean, carrying it's soothing smells. It all strangely helps to soothe and calm him. With strength returning to him, though limited, he picks one foot up and it dangles over the unforgiving pavement, like an ornament dangling from a Christmas tree.

This is it…no turning back…I'm past that point…no turning back…just lift up my right foot and it'll all be over…

With his left foot dangling in the air, he lifts his right foot with the all the reserve and strength he has left. Before he knows it, gravity is on him, pulling him towards the ground. He's freefalling.

I'm flying…I'm flying…it's better this way…please forgive me Aunt May…I pray all of you will forgive me…please forgive me…please…

His thoughts flicker and flitter through his skull as he descends. He feels free and careless, flying through the wind. It almost feels like an eternity to him, how long it takes to finally reach the ground, but he's only inches away from his final impact. Inches…only inches away. The awe and sounds emanating from the crowd almost seem distant, like they're coming from another world. Inches…he's only inches away. He takes his last gulping breath, he feels the blood drain from his body filling him with a strange sensation. And the ground comes up to give Peter Parker a big, wet kiss.