A Broken Man's Cell
The lowest most guarded cell was an amazingly terrifying and cold place. The ground and walls were dirty with grime and contained even dried blood left by past prisoners. The shackles that hung from the stone walls seemed extremely small and rusty yet they held their victim incredible well. The metal bars, that blocked the freedom that seemed so close, were too small to slip past but the memories of hungry hands trying to grab at what they could almost be felt there.
And Loki sat in the dark damp corner.
He was a horribly sickening sight. His limbs seemed impossibly thin and weak as they were bound by rough chains. From his ankles and wrists it could be seen the skin had torn as deep red trickles of blood bleed out. His clothes were ragged and worn out. The green had gone a brown from the filthy state of the cell.
Then there was his face
His hair had become greasy and unkempt. His cheeks had sunken an unbelievable amount. His skin had a constant shine of sweat and had grown an even paler colour that held a pasty look. His whole face was a look of sadness, misery, pain and something unimaginably worse and even more crimpling.
But his lips hurt to gaze upon.
Loki's mouth had been sewed shut. A fine thread had been weaved through the skin on his lips to bind his silver tongue. His mouth was stained red around the different points of entry and one could only imagine what it would have been like to be forced still as you watched the last bit of your freedom taken away from you. To watch the one piece of you, you had left disappear. The pain was excruciating but every once in a while Loki would tear the stitches open just to know he could still feel something. He knew every time he did this his lips would be retied but he did not stop. Till the day were h did not feel anything.
His eyes though, would have you cringing away with tears.
His eyes seemed empty. They held nothing, no emotion and no feeling. Absolutely nothing. It was as if he had retreated into the depths of his own mind and had plunged into his insane thoughts, never to return. He was in his own world where no one was there to bother him but his own imagination and his own mind. But yet, even though his eyes held nothing, they continued to stare straight ahead. They never closed, they never blinked and they never revealed anything.
But they didn't need to.
Anyone could tell that the man held in the painful chains had been broken beyond repair.
Before, Loki would have never let himself sit the way he was. Before everything he would have stood proudly in a situation like this one. He would stand strongly with his head held high pretending to have some sort of power. He would speak with sharp insulting words, he would wear his usual smirk in mocking and his movements would be slow and calculated.
The Loki here it this cell was very different. He sat hunched, with his knees drawn in close to his body. He had no more sharp words to use to defend him or attack others with. He did not move with fluid actions but remained still most of the time, and even when he moved it would be in jerks. The man in this cell was a broken Loki.
And after all he had been through could one really blame him for his insanity. Could someone blame him for the choices he didn't get to make, for the decisions he did not make or for the misjudged and misled reasons behind his crimes? Would you blame someone who had suffered so much and had been through heartbreaking experiences, for finally breaking? Could you blame him for breaking into a million pieces that could never be restored? Could you blame him for finally having enough?
Could you blame Loki for being the one lonely person in this broken man's cell?