Peter was still in a daze, his thoughts were still clouded and he wasn't thinking straight. No one would blame him. How could they, after what he had witnessed? It wasn't even the same as the night he'd watched his uncle die. That was still, for all intents and purposes, what could be considered a "normal" death. That didn't make it any better. But it made it easier to wrap his head around. This. This was more than that. It was the monsters of horror movies and ghost stories coming to life. And despite being in this world, and knowing these things, for a few months, it was so completely different when facing it head-on.
When Gwen said his name, Peter blinked, hard, trying to make his eyes focus and he looked up at her, trying to focus on what she was saying through the haze. He nodded wordlessly and finally shifted to get ready to stand up, Lydia's lifeless form in his arms. His legs were heavy as lead, but he knew he had to go inside. Some tiny part of him was screaming out logic at him in the back of his mind and he knew, he knew he couldn't stay outside.