ONE STEP FORWARD, FOUR STEPS BACK
A THOR/AVENGERS FANFICTION
CHAPTER FOUR: The Shadow's Favorite Room
WARNING: This chapter contains the torture of a minor. If you don't like, don't read. And please, no hate.
In the days that followed Loki's initial meeting with the figure, he had begun to have violent nightmares. Every passing day the torture got worse, simply because Loki didn't know the answers to the questions he was being asked. Because of these nightmares, Loki had begun to call the figure the Shadow. It followed him everywhere, so it seemed, ready to drag him back into the torture rooms. Loki hated the Shadow and had become very paranoid, always looking behind his back waiting and expecting it to come and get him. The anticipation of the Shadow's arrival and mood was worse than the hatred and the fear Loki felt because it only increased those feelings. He would lie awake at night wondering if it would snatch him up and take him away. So if he wasn't having nightmares, Loki lied awake in a terrified sweat, waiting for that monster to come and take him away.
A week had passed since the first day and Loki thought he was dying. He had lost a lot of weight because he couldn't hold food down, his raven hair that once shone was now very filthy and lackluster, and his body was bruised, sore and gaping open like a rotting wound. He had been poked, hit, beaten and poisoned, sometimes all within the same day. Loki wondered if he'd die down here. The absolute worse part for Loki was that Thor never came. Since his arrival in Fjørlag-Bryggja Loki had believed that Thor would come to save him. He knew deep down that was stupid, seeing as Thor had never ventured into Asgard's most feared prison, but it didn't stop him from thinking it. Loki missed Thor; he missed his smile and his voice, the way he believed in him when no one else would. He remembered playing together in Frigga's favorite orchard, the flowers swaying casually in the wind. When Loki had looked up and saw Thor as a man, he did realize that not everything would be as he remembered, but he had hoped that they would spend time together. That hope of seeing Thor again and spending time with his beloved brother was what Loki thought was keeping him alive.
On the eighth day, the Shadow came before lunch as usual, carrying a different aura about it. It beckoned once more and Loki limped out of his cell a feeling of dread filling his whole body as they walked in silence. This day, the Shadow took Loki to the room all the way at the end of the hall. It opened the door and a wave of nausea immediately overcame Loki. The room smelled worse of blood, vomit, flesh and other waste products than any other room he had been in so far. His face paled as he looked around. Multiple devices all of which Loki had no clue what their purpose was were folded and pushed up against the walls, the most ominous being the leather straps on the floor. Loki was shaking and whimpering softly.
"Remove your clothing please," the Shadow commanded. With shaking hands, Loki stripped and the Shadow took them out of the room and out of sight. The Shadow came back, closed the door and pulled out one of the devices from the wall. It was a long, thin wooden table with leather straps on it.
"Lie down please," the Shadow said. Loki crawled up on to the table and the Shadow fastened the straps around Loki's wrists and ankles, making sure that Loki's palm touched the table. The Shadow then turned and pulled out a steaming pot with a pair of metal tongs. Loki was very wary of the white hot metal tongs that the Shadow was carrying.
"There will be no questions today," the Shadow said softly, briefly brushing the tongs to Loki's arm.
"No questions?" Loki asked, shocked at how meek his voice was. It was probably from lack of use seeing as Loki had no one to talk to. He only really used his voice to scream or cry out, not really speaking in days. That was odd for him because he loved to talk. This place stole his voice it seemed.
"No," the Shadow answered, "This is a punishment day." Loki felt a shiver go down his spine when the Shadow said that. Without a further word, the Shadow grabbed Loki's right thumb and pushed skin away from the nail. It then placed the tip of the searing tongs on his nail, the heat burning Loki's skin.
"Wha' are you doin'?" Loki asked frantically as the Shadow stood still for a moment. That feeling of dread and anticipation that Loki hated so much was there as the Shadow stood there for what felt like hours, Loki's heart beat rapid with fear. The Shadow made a funny noise and in one fluid motion, ripped the nail off of Loki's thumb. Loki screamed in pain and glanced over; where his thumb nail once was now only housed blood and flesh. Loki felt the burning sensation of the tongs and looked over. The tongs were now on his index finger. Loki shut his eyes and waited for the rip that would separate his nail from his finger. It came again and Loki cried out, not daring to look at his bloody finger. The tongs shifted to his middle finger of his right hand and Loki had already had enough; this hurt worse than most Loki had experienced in Fjørlag-Bryggja.
"Please! No more!" Loki begged as the Shadow clamped the tongs harder on Loki's nail. Rip. Again, over and over until his both hands had no nails at all. Loki's hands were on fire. He was in hysterics, calling out for Thor, still hoping his brother would burst in and scoop him up in his strong arms. He fantasied for a moment, imagining Thor kicking the door down, smashing the Shadow into the ground and grabbing Loki and rescuing him from the hell he was trapped in. Loki knew it was silly to think this way, but it made the pain in his fingers bearable.
The Shadow put the tongs away and came to release Loki. It told Loki to stand and it pushed the table back against the wall. The Shadow then gestured to the restraints in the floor.
"Lie there please," Loki, scared out of his wits, obliged, the Shadow locking the straps. The Shadow walked away and vanished, and Loki wondered if he was going to be left here to starve. It might be less painful than anything else the Shadow could do to him at this point. Moments later, the Shadow came back and Loki felt himself trembling and whimpering again. The light reflected off of something in the Shadow's hand and Loki squinted to make it out; it was a knife. Loki's whimpers quickly became hysterical as the Shadow stalked closer; blade high, then it knelt down. Loki was very aware of the blade's proximity to his body. He could almost feel the tip poking him in the arm as the Shadow hovered over him.
"N-n-no! Please! 'M s-sorry!" Loki begged, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for. He assumed that was the right thing to do. It had said he was being punished. However, the Shadow didn't speak. Instead it touched the tip of the knife to Loki's abdomen and paused, Loki in a state of panic.
"Please no!" the Shadow ignored Loki's pleas and without a word, it cut deep into the abdomen, warm blood gushing like a fountain. Loki's screams became hysteric sobs as it cut deeper, eventually stopping and moving inches higher to repeat the process. As the third incision was cut, Loki passed out, the pain too unbearable to stay awake.
When Loki awoke, the first thing he realized was that he was still bound to the floor. The second thing he noticed was a needle in his arm. The third thing was a chorus of squeaks coming from some place in the torch-lit room.
"Lost feeling in your stomach yet?" the Shadow asked. Loki whimpered, and realized that he had. All feeling in his stomach was gone. He wasn't even sure if it was still bleeding. What did the Shadow do to him? The Shadow came and pulled the needle out, the small wound bleeding slightly.
"You're probably wondering what this is," it taunted, waving the needle around. Loki tried to speak, but no words would come out; only moans, whimpers and rasping. Loki began panicking again. What was in that needle?
"It is a narcotic. It cuts off speech and pain receptors. Not to worry, both will return shortly. It was also mixed with a third substance; adrenaline. Now you'll remain awake for the remainder of our time together." Loki shivered a little at the Shadow's tone of voice. It sounded happy, like it was enjoying this; that alone made Loki want to vomit.
"See this?" the Shadow asked softly. Loki glanced up and saw that it was holding a cage. Loki nodded mutely.
"This is the end of our session today," it said, opening the cage. Hundreds of rats spilled out of it and scurried around. Loki huffed. Rats? Big deal, he thought. He was less panicked until the Shadow began making sounds that Loki could only assume was laughter. Loki glanced at this stomach and saw dozens of rats scrambling atop it, little feet and claws touching his exposed muscle. If he were capable, he would have screamed.
"You're wondering why the rats like you so," It wasn't a question. Loki nodded slowly.
"I sprinkled sugar on it to attract them and..." There was a pause, "invite them to feed." Loki felt his heart skip a beat. The rats were going to eat him alive! How he wished he could scream! Perhaps Thor would hear and save him. Loki still had faith in Thor, even though he never came. He still believed his brother would save him. He really hoped he would. However, his drugged mind was too foggy to fantasize again, so the best he could do was hope.
Feeling was slowly returning to his stomach and Loki began to wince as he felt dozens of pairs of teeth gnawing away at his muscle. He wondered how long the Shadow would allow the rats to stay. He hoped it wasn't too long. More feeling returned and the pain increased. Loki was whimpering and crying, unable to brush the rats off of himself. Thor will come, Thor will come, he thought over and over, keeping his mind off the intense pain. Instead of fantasy, he was using Thor as a tool to ignore the pain. It probably wouldn't work for too long, but Loki kept silently calling out to Thor as the rats continued to gnaw on his open wound.
Things only got worse for Loki from there. The Shadow-who thought the rats were losing motivation-placed a hot metal box with the bottom cut out on Loki's stomach. Most of the feeling in his stomach was back, but he still could not speak. The metal burned his delicate skin and he felt the rats search frantically for an exit. After a minute or two, the chewing continued, only it was more frantic, more desperate, more deliberate. The rats were attempting to chew threw Loki as means to escape the box. Loki tried to thrash around in an attempt to knock the box off, but he was too weak. The box remained and the chewing grew stronger still. The pain was unbearable, but due to the drug the Shadow had given him, Loki was unable to pass out. Thor will come, he thought, less of himself believing it with each passing minute. It wasn't even working to distract Loki from the pain anymore. Loki's inaudible crying got heavier and more hysteric as the rats cut deeper, some reaching his intestines. Loki wanted to scream, kick, do anything to scare the rats away, but was unable to do so. He was trapped and forced to stay awake as rats literally ate him alive. It didn't last much longer after the addition of the box. The Shadow wasn't allowed to kill Loki, so after thirty long minutes, it removed the box and the rats from Loki's abdomen.
"Lie still please. I shall return momentarily." The Shadow left and Loki caught a glimpse of his stomach through his peripheral vision. It was disgusting; the four incisions were now gaping wounds, intestines visible and spilling out from them. Loki threw up a little but swallowed the rest-the action of vomiting caused not only extreme pain, but caused his already injured intestines and stomach to rip and shift further out of place. The Shadow returned and placed the intestines back into the boy's abdomen, then sloppily closed the wounds with magic. It then picked Loki up, carried him back to the cell and dressed Loki without cleaning him up. The Shadow gave him his nightly bread and water.
"That was my favorite room," the Shadow said as it left Loki alone. Loki was so disgusted and humiliated that he only drank the water but threw the bread against the wall, curled up and fell in to a fitful sleep.
As Loki slept, a fever came over him. Loki woke up and groggily looked around, unsure of where he was. Memory flowed back into him and Loki shivered slightly. He wiped a hand across his forehead and found it covered in sweat. Loki felt weaker than he had in days and he tried to get comfortable. Lying on his back was painful because of the bruising and swelling on it. His stomach offered no comfort either; his wounds threatened to open and tear if he dared to lay on it. He couldn't lie on his sides, so he decided that his back was the least painful and dangerous of all his options. Loki kept getting flashes of hot and cold, but the sweating stayed constant, making Loki speculate that he was running a fever. He shivered as his head began to pound. Now dying didn't seem too bad.
"Oh Loki…" Loki turned his head. A male figure was standing a few feet from his cell. Loki lifted his head, but couldn't make out the figure's face.
"T-Thor?" Loki asked. The man didn't respond, only got closer. Loki squinted, but still couldn't see his face.
"I am so sorry, Loki," the man said slowly. Loki blinked and sighed loudly. His head was pounding and his fever was raging. He deduced that he was delusional; only seeing this man because his fever was so high.
"'S 'kay," Loki replied slowly, his words sluggish and slurred. He could hear the man choke a little. Was this man crying? For him? Loki didn't understand.
"A-are…are you crying?" he asked the man. He was glad his voice was back; he actually forgot how much he loved to talk.
"Perhaps young one," the man answered, his voice strained yet gentle.
"Oh," Loki said softly, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to thank this man for crying, but rather for caring about him. No one but Thor and Frigga seemed to care anymore. Loki felt his own eyes watering but didn't wipe them away. He let the tears flow freely, not caring about how painful it was to intake deep breaths.
"Do not cry, Loki; you'll hurt yourself." the man said softly.
"'M sorry," Loki replied. A pause occurred and Loki bit his lip. He wanted so badly to ask this man if he was his brother, his feverish mind unsure of who's voice was speaking. If it was Thor, Loki wondered if he would rescue him this night. Finally, Loki plucked up enough courage to ask.
"Are you Thor?" Loki asked softly.
"If you need me to be," the man replied softly. Loki felt strangely at peace as the man, the "not-Thor", spoke to him in deep, soothing tones. It sure did remind him of how Thor talked, but his voice wasn't right. Loki couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with not-Thor's voice that made him not-Thor, but it truly wasn't Thor. It didn't hurt to pretend.
"Can you tell me a story?" Loki asked, his green eyes fixed upon not-Thor. In the dim light, Loki could barely make out not-Thor nod.
"Of course prince…of course," not-Thor replied, leaning up against the bars. A moment passed as not-Thor stood there thinking of one to tell. Loki felt bad for putting not-Thor on the spot, so he felt it appropriate to suggest one.
"Can you tell me of Odin's battle with the dragon?" Loki suggested. Once more, not-Thor nodded and took a deep breath.
"Yes, I can. I know it well." And so he did.