Powerlessness ( Loki x Reader )

XLIII.

I just couldn't stop crying.

~ Y/N ~

A cleated boot pressing down on my chest; I could barely muffle myself as I slid down the ivory of our bedroom door. I was spilling over, pouring with emotion. My hands shaking against my lips as feelings I hadn't in years sprouted like fungal spores left on the lining of my stomach. I wanted to vomit.

In one moment everything was destroyed. Everything I had worked to overcome. Every mantra tossed around in my head. Every second I spent telling myself I was better. Juggling my training with therapy. Breakthroughs that broke shackles. I thought I was free.

But in that moment, in that simple yet pivotal gesture. I was a child again.

And he wasn't Loki, no, he was the whip himself. The Destroyer. The hand that sculpted malice- unforgiveness. He was my God father.

He had never moved so quickly towards me, never in an argument. And god he looked so angry, so frustrated - My body could only move from what it had learned to expect.

To be hit.

And suddenly I could feel the cigarette burns on my shoulders before the skin could erode.

The liquor on his breath.

The way his voice would tower over me. Broken flesh that would bud like teeth, the welt a swollen reminder.

But why now?

If anything the moment Loki drew his blade at me, should these feelings have been more appropriate.

But back then my mind only registered combat not...abuse. No, I was more afraid of his hand than the blade.

I was afraid,

Because I thought he'd hit me.

But he wouldn't. I know he wouldn't. Loki's a lot of things but not that.

So why did I flinch? Why was I so afraid? Why am I so weak?!

"Because you've not healed."

I sighed at the sound of that voice looking up with a teary-eyed scowl. Him standing over me again.

"Has anyone ever told ya you look awful sexy when you cry?" He joked, resting himself beside me.

"Piss off, Sengusial." I sniffed. "Now is really not the-"

"-Time. Yeah, yer like a broken record, love." He sighed, reaching to pull a stray hair from the top my brow. "Though, seems I can't be too far off from the truth. Yer definitely broken, distressingly so."

I huffed. "Yeah, thanks, coach. Got another pep talk in ya?" I mocked.

He shook his head. "But it's not your fault, lamb. - Look at ya. Picking up the pieces like you know the way to put them~ When the reality is: you were born broken. Bagged up and put in a pretty bow of flesh but ripped apart all the same." He thumbed a few tears from under my cheek. "You've been dealt losing hands, men with cards under the table- but it isn't your fault, lamb. It isn't."

Gazing into me with a cottoned glimmer, he spoke softly; gently. "No matter how powerful you become, how divine. Your curse will be that you were born human. Broken creatures that break each other. Souls that trod selfishly, always wanting more."