TRIGGER WARNING! THE CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER IS TRIGGERY
Hello again! I'm so glad to get it up, I couldn't get the idea out of my head and I was terrified in case I forgot it so I whipped it up. :)
I'm sorry to anyone this chapter may offend (I'm not sure how it can offend anyone, but I shall apologise just in case). The content in this chapter is something I have experienced before (although not as dramatically) and I wanted Sigyn to have some elements of myself in her. If you're not comfortable with triggers and self-harm, do not read.
R&R please!
Song: Don't Panic- Coldplay
Haunt Me Chapter 18
The moment I revealed myself, everyone in the room gasped. I smirked dangerously in their general direction, before turning to Bruce.
"Hello." Said I. My voice was quiet, dangerous. I approved of my voice when it was like this. He looked startled and then disapproving.
"I told you not to come." He warned.
"I know, but I paid no heed to your words. I am an adult, and I'm fed up of people treating me like I am a weak-willed child." I crossed my arms, stubborn. He opened his mouth to oppose me, but I simply held up a hand to silence him and turned to face Loki. He looked surprised, angry and sad- not much different to how he usually looked.
"Sigyn." He finally murmured, before standing up. He looked nervous, proclaiming whatever he was to say in front of the group. However, he clearly had urgency in his words for he spoke his mind anyway.
"I am so, so sorry for what they did to you. And I am sorry that I did not inform you or wake you up so you could have more of a say in what they did to your body." He cradled my face with his long, pale hand. I considered his apology, scanning the words and looking for their alternative meanings, translations, connoting them and placing them in other sentences; other situations. His words, however, turned out to be explicit and he laid them as they were. He meant what he said- a fool could have seen it from the sincerity in his tone, voice, emerald eyes. No matter what he said, I still felt like I needed time alone, to clear my head and remove the bastard tablet they'd forced under my skin. I pulled away from his embrace, my eyes only for him. They apologised when words failed me. I began to cry- I was so fed up of being weak and afraid. So I turned to the rest of the group. Fury spoke first.
"What are your plans?" His tone was gruff, but the words were laced with sincerity.
"To cut out this thing." I spat. Bruce's eyes widened and Fury's jaw dropped. I bowed my head and with that, I was gone. I didn't want to appear for too long- my intention was not to make a scene but to make my presence known, and to put Loki's mind at rest. Although I suspected that what I said last had probably caused him more harm than good. I knew I wouldn't have long before Tony dropped off Stark, so I got straight to work. I knew where Banner kept his knives, for I'd seen him toy with one the previous night. I snatched it from its concealment and began my work. I felt for the lump, surprised I could have ignored it for so long when now it felt so obvious. It was so easy to feel. Taking a single shaking breath, I drew the knife across the skin, barely wincing as the cool sliced through me and drew blood. My hands became messy as a scarlet pool began to form in my palms. Biting back screams, I delved further within myself to retrieve the object. With a feral snarl, I snapped the contraption and stepped on it. My eyesight was slightly hazy as I looked down at my self-inflicted wound. But then I remembered my father. He encouraged this so often. So much. He told me hurting myself was the only way to gain his approval. I looked up to the skies and screamed.
"DO YOU APPROVE OF ME YET, FATHER?!" I brought the knife down in anger and shame again to my arms, raking the skin over and over. Scarlet roses bloomed all around me, red spots enveloping my vision. The searing pain caused me to scream until I was hoarse. I twirled, dizzy, and suddenly I felt the floor by my head. With a whimper, I lay on the ground as the red spots in my vision turned black, and got larger and larger until I couldn't see anything at all. It wasn't until the blind panic left me and I realised that I had shut my eyes. With a weak laugh in spite myself, I opened them again without much. My vision was blurry, but I could faintly make out Banner and Tony step through the door. Tony was in his tin suit, but his face was visible. He looked sickened, worried and angry. Bruce remained calm, his face emotionless. I guessed he'd dealt with this before. My arm burned, and through my hazy vision I could see the knife lay on the floor, blood trickling beside it.
"What did she do?" Tony shrieked. I gasped at the blinding pain that seared through me when Bruce picked me up and cradled me in his arms. I could feel I was swaying, and I knew I had cut way too deep. I had also forgotten I had slashed at my legs, caring not for where the marks went or what they did. I had never hurt myself deliberately before, and I knew I shouldn't have. But I had always had a history of being very emotionally unstable, my father adding to my woes. I remembered all the times my father sneered at me to murder myself for I was worthless. I had refused to face my anger that had been piling up over the centuries, and eventually it spilled out- just like the blood.
"She wanted it out." Bruce muttered breathlessly. Through my thoughts and hazy mind, I struggled to understand what Bruce referred to; then I remembered the tracking system. I had wanted that out.
"She succeeded." Tony replied, horrified. I was confused- Tony had dealt with far worse sights then this, surely. Why was he so upset by my appearance? Then a horrid thought crossed my mind. How badly did I cut myself? I had only meant to release my anger; I thought the pain would be enough to make me stop after the first slash!
"Where are you taking her?" Tony shouted. Why is he shouting?
"SHIELD!" Bruce yelled back. Why are they so loud? My head was thrumming with the sound of the vehicles. Why is everything so loud?! My head lolled as the traffic was far too loud, and before I could comprehend the situation I was flying, my hair whipping and lashing behind me as Tony carried me in his metal arms. An immeasurable amount of time passed, and I felt another pair of arms cradle me. Loki; again. I groaned in refusal, wanting to be put down. I felt ludicrous, knowing I was in a state. But I was an independent, grown woman and I hated feeling vulnerable. Despite the fact I had inflicted this vulnerability upon myself with the silver borrowed blade.
"Hush now, you stupid woman!" Hissed Loki. I groggily opened one eye; the pain returning after the numbness had finally subsided. I gazed up at him, gritting my teeth. The pain ebbed away at my conscience like the tide, and I struggled to keep my eye open. It began to water from the pain. Loki looked upset and angry, and was wearing a Midgardian shirt and black jeans- a Midgardian combination that was foreign and unusual on him. The shirt was a pale blue, and he had pulled the sleeves up to his elbows. His black hair was slicked back as usual but still tussled at the top, suggesting he had been pulled from changing to tend to me. I still puzzled faintly over why he had changed in the first place, but that little fact wasn't of importance. I concentrated on trying to heal myself, recalling faintly the murmurs of magic I needed. I had plenty of time to focus on the details later on. I summoned the sparks, my eyebrows furrowing in pain, agitation and the struggle to remain awake.
"My love, you need to remain calm." He murmured, stroking my hair rhythmically until I succumbed to the creeping darkness, the darkness that pervaded my mind. I tried one final sentence.
"Loki, I…" but the rest could not be said. I had already fallen into the abyss of my mind.
For what seemed like years, the darkness never subsided. I was asleep, but I could hear what transpired around me. I heard the slices of conversation, the breathing of the individuals that watched me. I was intelligent enough to deduce who was watching me by their footsteps, breathing and proximity. I had no idea where I was, or what had happened. I knew I was alive, but I wished to be dead. I was still in a great deal of pain, the tides of agony never ceasing or relaxing. Every ten heartbeats a wave would crash in, I would feel like screaming and then it would subside. This pattern drummed on and on, until I felt ready to give up and give in completely. Finally, my eyes let me wake up. They opened slowly, without my control. I found the motion disturbing, but allowed my body to do what was necessary. I finally regained control of my own body, blinking slowly as the blinding white lights on the ceiling rendered me sightless for a few moments. I didn't dare look at my arms, terrified of what I'd discover. I remembered that I had been unaware that I had slashed at my legs, and I frantically wondered if I had madly slashed at any other part of my body in my frenzy of anger and sadness. I touched my face, smoothing and stroking for any ridges, any chance there were cuts. Nothing felt unusual, and I breathed a shaky sigh of relief.
"You had me worried sick." A murmur echoed from the other side of me. Self preservation instinct kicked in and I jumped up from wherever I had been placed and whirled around, hands splayed out in defence. However, I was weaker than I expected, and my knees wobbled. I grabbed the nearest stable object in support. Luckily for me, it was the wall. Steadying myself, I observed my observer before limping stiffly into what appeared to be the bed again. It wasn't very comfortable for a bed, although I made no complaint about it.
"My apologies." I muttered darkly as I pulled the covers over me. They weren't draped over me when I had woken.
"Hmm." He continued to murmur. His murmurs were steely and cold; unemotional. I braced myself for his inevitable fury. It was building momentum, ready to burst at any given moment. I grunted in approval and effort as I relaxed my head in the pillow. I heard the creak as he stood up from his chair, the squeak his leather boots made as they connected with the floor repeatedly. He walked around the bed and stood in front of me. His hair was messy and out of place, more so then when I last saw it before I fainted. He still wore the Midgardian clothing, I noted. My eyes followed him warily, and I scrutinised his facial expressions. His emerald eyes were hard and gave me no emotion whatsoever, his lips mashed into a tight line. He was paler than usual, his eyes shadowed with weariness he fought to control. With a heavy sigh, he spoke again.
"Why would you do such a monstrous thing to yourself?" His tone was one of disbelief and scorn. I considered my reasoning for a while, before deciding to go with the truth. He'd know if I was lying regardless.
"Because I had let my feelings about… everything take control of me. I remembered fondly about how my father always told me to kill myself, hurt myself, about how I killed my mother… I thought perhaps if I exacted his wants he'd stop tormenting me in my sleep." I faltered, wincing at the tides that ever so slowly ebbed at me.
"Does it hurt?" He asked quietly, coldly. I nodded briskly twice, afraid my voice would betray me.
"You should never have picked up the knife. To mutilate yourself in such a way… it makes me ill."
"This isn't about you Loki." I warned him coolly.
"Is it not? Are you completely certain of that fact?" He sneered. I didn't answer but stared up at the ceiling, afraid of the scars I had left.
"No. It's about my past, my present… and eliminating the future." I eventually mustered myself to say. Shaking, I looked down at my bare arms. My stomach churned and bile rose in my throat. I bore hundreds of slashes, scarlet ribbons that trailed the length of my arms. They weren't deeper than two or three layers of my skin, but I knew they were not as bad as the ones that were on my legs. Uncontrollably shaking, I sat up and pulled up my nightdress to look at the damage. The cuts were not as many, but were far deeper. Some of them were so deep they had been stitched up, but most of them were left as they were.
"They will be dressed." Murmured a voice close to my ear. I turned gently to look at him. His steely gaze was warmer and sorrowful. I felt guilty for putting him through this, but I could not apologise.
"Good." I murmured, lying back down, the sickness in my stomach never going away.
"How long was I… unconscious for?" I faltered again, gulping. He hesitated in his response as he fiddled with a button on his shirt, but he eventually answered.
"4 days." The sickness briefly overwhelmed me. 4 days! I may have missed so much in my prolonged sleep!
"What did I miss in my… absence?" I heard a large gulp come from the morose character and I turned to look at him with fearful eyes.
"The doctors… they had to check your medical records, appropriate your data, all mandatory, of course…" He began, placing a hand over mine delicately. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him.
"Did they chip me again?" He shook his head briskly.
"No. They offered to put you on suicide watch, but I used my… techniques to persuade them otherwise. No, I have something incredibly important to tell you. And I want you to hear it from me. As you know, us both being Asgardians many of qualities Midgardians have are enhanced." He continued, the wary look in his eyes never fading. My heart began to pound as I wondered what was wrong.
"Yes…" I trailed off cautiously.
"Well, as you know we engaged in… some activities a week ago." I was confused. Where was he going with this?
"Anyway, the doctors took some tests and they found that you are…" He took in a shaky breath. Loki has never been this nervous before. I thought, finally consumed by a creeping fear.
"That I am what?" I said, leaning forward to be only inches from his face; his lips.
"That you are with child." He finished, breathing out his cool, mint breath into my face. My heart stopped beating and I couldn't breathe. I stared blankly at the wall behind him, trying to process it. I was with child? I was pregnant with Loki's child?
"What?!" I cried.
Okay, so that's done! BOMBSHELL!
Sorry for the self-harm, it's just it's an issue close to my heart and itg needed expressing, and that's what being a writer is all about, right?
See you for the next instalment :)