I woke up after a late night with Kami. Mom took a separate car because she'd planned to be late that night with an old high school friend. Me and Kami drove up, but were late.

The house had smelled strange compared to grandma's usual smelling house. There was an egg and hash brown scramble, donuts, and other things I had passed up.

I drank Apple Cider my aunt had made, commented on the fact that there was no taste of alcohol, then scared my mother when I filled the glass with regular apple juice after that, her not having seen it.

Then we drew for secret pal for Christmas, I wrote down all the books I wanted, then was sent to take the six odd cousins to the park. Kami and her brother had brought their dog Mina.

The twins and their older brother Damon had run off to the structures. Me and Kami reminisced about the wooden, maze like structure that had been there before. After that, me and Addi had been on the swings. I got up as far as I could, then jumped.

I landed on my feet, but my brown, heeled boots made a thunk rather than the shoosh I had expected in mulch. The walls were white, the floor covered in broken furniture and books tossed about. Glass and blood were in the opposite corner to me.

Although my eyes moved, I felt frozen. I suddenly thought of Star Trek, a show I had never seen, but it was constantly referred to. I slowly turned, and saw a golden screen, separating me from a walkway, and another room, like this one, but no broken furniture. A man in a gold uniform and horned helmet walked by, a spear in hand.

I spoke before I thought. "Hey!" I ran up and slammed into the gold screen.

I was thrown back, hitting the wall on the opposite side. I landed on a broken wooden leg, though thankfully not with the splintered wood towards me. The wind rushed out of me, and I attempted to gasp. The golden suited man had walked on. I attempted to swear at him, but gasped instead. I was starting to see spots just as my lungs finally took a breathe.

"Hey, I need..." But my words fell short as something seemed to dawn on me.

"Oh my god, I hit my head. That has to be it. I fell wrong or something and I'm blocking out the pain by putting myself in a secluded prison…" I stood and began to pace, pushing the larger broken pieces away with my boots. "Blocked by a force field, I guess. I got knocked back and the wind knocked out of me when my heart maybe slowed or whatever and my cousin's hit my chest like desperate people on television. That has to be it-" I tripped and landed on my hands, one side right on some bloody glass. The pain was horrible.

I screamed. Nothing bloody murder, but more outrage. I tried to think of a dream where I had pain in it but not in real life. Pulling at the glass as I bit my lip, I remembered on dream where I was going to be a tribal sacrifice because of a pain in my abdomen, but remembered that had been the beginning of appendicitis.

"Dammit. That kicks the knocked out theory, I guess. Unless someone just sliced my hand open…" I could think of none of my cousins brave enough to do such a thing.

"HEY!" I screamed again. I heard a snarled reply that didn't quite sound human and gave me a certain wave of goose bumps that I normally took as foreboding. I had taken longer routes to get home because of that certain wave. So I interpreted it as a 'be silent and careful' warning.

I squeezed at my hand and a very steady stream of blood came out. I prayed the old blood came out with it. I then covered it with my hand and thought. The cut was fleshy, and needed to be stopped before I died of blood loss. I looked at the furniture again and saw a seat cushion. I also found a long shard of glass and attempted to cut it without cutting me more.

I got two slivers of glass in two fingers, and the entire fabric of the cushion cut. I then tried to cut the splinters out, and managed to get one out. I wrapped the large cut and sucked on the smaller cut until it stopped bleeding.

I started to kick the debris to only one corner – the bloody one – and managed to find about ten books and a second seat cushion. Correction: ten books that weren't torn to shreds. I then looked at myself. I was still in my distressed zip up boots, bright aqua leggings, floral patterned skirt, brown shirt, black tank, brown-black beaded necklaces, and my long black wool coat. I took the necklaces off and set them on a ledge on the floor. The room was relatively warm, so I took off the coat, checking my pockets for my phone. It wasn't in my pocket. I still felt ridicules in the outfit, but Kami had insisted.

I sat cross legged on the floor, facing the golden wall, and set my head on a hand. I counted the amount of times the guard passed, then realized he had changed from a lighter haired fellow to a dark haired fellow around the 20th round. I then decided that each round was about the same length of time, so I counted ten seconds, ticked a finger out of my fist, and restarted the next ten seconds. Ten ticks later, he walked around. It seemed my cell was last. Or first.

It was at least on one end of the rows. I then counted his steps. They were rhythmic, each with purpose and practice. One step every second. It was perfect. I thought of soldiers. "Hu and hut 2 3 4.." I murmered before I thought about it. Again. "Or maybe it's 'Left, left, lift right left.'" I sighed, then waited till he passed my way again. "Hey, can I at least talk to someone here?"

He continued to walk on, past my cell, then a new guy moved in, red hair sticking out at his temples and a beard hanging low to his chest.

"Yoohoo…" I finally saw a reaction, a glance out of the corner of his eye, and his march took one and a half seconds rather than one. "I'm not supposed to be in here, am I?"

His march returned to the practiced one-second-every-step kind. I sighed and resumed counting his steps.

So…it seems I have Loki Fangirled. Majorly. And when I fangirl, I think of a story, and I have to write it to get it out of my head. Long term story line, I'm okay. Short term, I may need help. Please do so if you think of something. I have the utmost right to refuse or use if offered.