Author's Note – This story is dedicated to my wonderful, amazing, and lovely friend, Cassandra. I hope you love it, my dear.
Warnings – I'll put these here, because I didn't have enough room in the summary. This chapter does contain mentions of family-rape, as well as drug-use, but other than that, it is mild. You have been made aware.
Chapter Four: Be My Escape
A full week passed before Loki realised why his mother wasn't there, a full week of hating her, cursing her, wishing her dead for what she was allowing to happen to him. His grandmother had died the day his parents had that huge fight, the day he went into his room and snorted all of the heroin that he had left in that loose floor-board. He knocked the lamp from his desk, the glass breaking, when he realised that the note he refused to read that was taped to his door was from his mother, explaining where she was, why she suddenly left. He cried and screamed and proceeded to trash his entire room until his father ran in, pushing him down onto the bed before stabbing him in the arm with the syringe, pumping the heroin into his veins, fogging and clouding his mind. He didn't fight when Odin pushed his jeans down, didn't fight or feel when he thrusted into him again and again and again and again and again.
It was another few days before Loki was able to think coherently without the traces of heroin blocking and delaying his thoughts. And it was after he took a long shower – he could never seem to wash away the feel of his father on him – when he realised that he had fresh locks on his windows. He dressed quickly enough before vaulting himself at the window, trying to figure out how to open the damn things. And that's when he noticed the nails embedded in the window, keeping it firmly shut. Loki barely made it to the bathroom before he was expelling the contents of his stomach into the toilet, chest heaving, lungs screaming for a breath of air.
Later on that night, when Odin came into the room, Loki screamed at him, went so far as to slamming his fists into whatever part of Odin he could get to before his father restrained him, beating him with the belt before binding his hands behind his back once more. Anger and fear coursed through him, causing him to scream and cry and curse and beg and shout and plead, though none of it did any good, because the tie was once again wrapped around his mouth, muffling and stifling off his words. His father fucked him that night without any heroin to ebb the pain. It felt worse that night. After a week of being in a haze, his mind was working frantically with every thrust, his sensory for pain exploding before him, causing every move that either he or his father made that much excruciating.
A lock was placed on his bedroom door. Bound and gagged in bed, too weak and sore to do anything, Loki could only watch as Odin drilled the bar that would prevent his door from opening.
He didn't get heroin after that. Odin stopped buying it.
-x- -x- -x-
Jiggling the door-knob, Loki pulled at it with all the strength that he could muster, but it didn't do any good. The door was firmly shut, locked up tightly, preventing him from leaving. He had been reduced from a son to a captive, his worth coming to good use only when his father wanted a good fuck. His entire body was covered in bruises and scrapes and Loki knew without needing to consult with a doctor that serious damage had been done to his lower half. He could feel it with every move that he made, could feel it in the way he bled when he shifted too much and the sharp, shooting pain that was a continuous throb.
But that wasn't his concern right now.
Now more than ever, Loki needed to get out of that house. His mother was gone and his father was thoroughly abusing him, raping him. What would happen when she finally did return? Surely his father knew that Loki would tell on him, that he would confess to Frigga what he'd been doing to Loki. Odin had to know that, which was why he had to get out while he was at work, because otherwise, he'd be trapped. His father would hurt him to ensure his silence. Loki didn't know if he would go so far as to killing him, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.
Emptying the contents from an old backpack that was hidden in his closet, Loki stuffed clothes into it, along with a few close possessions that he couldn't bear to leave behind, as well as a toothbrush a tube of toothpaste, and a few books. After that was done, Loki took a quick glance around his room before moving to the window, picking up a shoe along the way. Gripping it tightly, standing on the other side of the bed, Loki threw it at the window, the shoe bouncing off, making a loud noise – one that had Loki tensing up, afraid that his father wasn't actually gone, half-expecting to hear his thunderous footsteps racing towards his door, racing to punish him – before landing on the floor. Pursing his lips, Loki retrieved it before returning to his original place on the other side of the bed. Bracing himself, Loki pulled his arm back and threw the shoe as hard as he could. The shoe broke the glass, but the sharp movements that Loki executed caused him to immediately double over, pressing into the bed as wracks of pain rippled through him, bringing tears to his eyes.
Forcing back the pain, willing his body to adjust and adapt, Loki slowly straightened his body and moved to the window, breaking what was left of the glass, so he could safely climb out. Putting the backpack over his shoulders, Loki took his time climbing out of the window, praying that he didn't bleed, because the last thing he wanted to worry about in that moment was that. By the time he grabbed the branches of the tree by his window and hoisted himself away, Loki could feel his legs shaking; the pain pulsating and uncomfortable and he had to bite back a gasp when he started climbing down.
Loki had never been so thankful to reach the ground when he did, because his entire body was quivering and trembling due to the exertion that he just implemented climbing down that tree. Sweat was rolling down his neck, making him feel hot and sticky, the muscles in his body – especially his lower half – ached and throbbed and spasmed. He leaned against the base of the tree for a moment, simply catching his breath before moving back towards the house. Pulling the spare key from behind the outside light, Loki undid the lock and went into the house, moving towards a jar where they kept emergency cash. Loki had always questioned why, but now he didn't. He was thankful that it was there. He pocketed it all before he left the house altogether, making his way to the bus-stop that was a few blocks from where he lived.
He sat on the bench and waited, keeping his eyes trained on the street that his father would pull onto while on the way home. His heart hammered inside his chest, beating on his rib-cage almost painfully as he watched, terrified of seeing their car, of seeing his father. Loki didn't even want to think about what would happen should his father come home early and see him sitting on at the bus-stop. Relief washed through him when he saw the bus turning onto his street. And when he climbed in and got comfortable in a seat at the very back of the bus, Loki could feel the panic slowly seep from his body. He was getting farther and farther away from his father. All would be well.
It had to be.
-x- -x- -x-
Where the hell are you? Call me.
Loki, you better answer me.
If I have to phone the police, because you're acting like a child then you will be very sorry.
Answer me, boy.
Four text messages and seven calls later, Loki finally decided to turn off his mobile. He had no plans to call back his father, no plans on going back home until his mother returned. Climbing out of the cab after paying for the cabbie's services, Loki pulled his backpack over his shoulder and sighed. It took almost three full days to get from Malibu to New Mexico, and the entire ride down there, Loki questioned whether or not he was making a mistake. At first he didn't think so, but now … now he felt like he was intruding on a stranger's life.
Limping to the front door – sitting down in one position for so long had him stiff and achy – Loki didn't give himself any more time to think before he was knocking on the door. Any other day, Loki probably would have started laughing at the shocked look that greeted him when the door eventually opened, but all he could pull off now was a sheepish smile. He felt stupid and foolish for even thinking he could come and stay with him.
"Loki."
"Hello, Thor. It's been a while."
"I … yeah," Thor stammered, poking his head outside and looking around, as though expecting more people. When he found none, his brows furrowed and Loki could feel dread seeping in. Why he thought he could come and stay was ridiculous. Of course, he hadn't been thinking when he was trying to get out of the house. It all made sense now – Thor ran to forget about his family, to forget about Loki. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I wasn't either," Loki replied, turning his gaze down to his shoes, because now he felt as though he was begging and seeking refuge. "I, uh … I didn't know your number, so I couldn't call you."
"Why?" Thor asked, confusion in his voice, as though he couldn't fathom why Loki would come to him. Loki's eyes shot up, his expression morphing into something akin to shock, and only then did Thor seem to realise his mistake, because he shook his head and forced out an awkward laugh. "No, that's not what I meant. Come in. Do you, uh, have anything else with you?" He asked, eying the backpack.
"No," Loki shook his head as he stepped inside the threshold. He looked around, surprised that the place wasn't a complete and total mess. Of course, it could definitely use a clean, but at least there weren't clothes littering the floor like they were when he was living at home. "I don't think I'll be here more than a couple of days," He added, because his mother had been gone already for over a week. Surely, she would be home soon.
"Do mother and father know you're here?" Thor asked closing and locking the front door. He joined Loki's side, still looking as though he didn't know what to do, as though he wasn't sure that he liked Loki being there or not. The look hurt more than it probably should.
Forcing a smile on his face, though, Loki gently punched Thor on the shoulder. "Do you think I would be here if they didn't?" His answer seemed to satisfy Thor, not that Loki was at all surprised. Answering him with a question of his own wasn't lying, but it wasn't giving the truth, either. He'd been using the same deflective strategy over and over again, but Thor never seemed to catch on. "It was a spur of the moment decision. I just … I needed to get away."
Thor's expression seemed to soften. He knew exactly what Loki was talking about, knew exactly what he was going through, and maybe he felt guilt for leaving him, for not keeping in contact. Loki didn't know and he honestly didn't care. In a way, he hated Thor for leaving. They were the best of friends and then he suddenly left without taking Loki with him.
But he couldn't think about that now.
"Let me get you something to eat. I'm sure you're hungry after all that travelling," Thor said, putting a hand on Loki's shoulder before heading into a different room, expecting Loki to follow.
When Loki got into the room, he stopped in the doorway, unsure of what he was seeing. "You cook?" The tone of his voice caused Thor to laugh.
"Yes, I can cook. It took a while, but my girlfriend, Jane, taught me how to cook several meals. I'm proud to say that I can cook about a fourth of a Thanksgiving dinner," Thor grinned. "But I won't make anything huge tonight. Do you still like spaghetti?"
The question shouldn't have grated at Loki's nerves as much as it did. Thor spoke as though they hadn't seen or talked to each other in years. He didn't voice his annoyance, though, choosing instead to sit down on a barstool to watch.
"So you've been here all this time?" Loki asked suddenly, unsure why. He reasoned that it was because he couldn't take the silence. Thor didn't look as though it was bothering him as he ambled around the kitchen, but it was giving Loki anxiety, his heart thundering, ears ringing.
Thor looked up confused before he realised what Loki was asking. He nodded his head. "Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to. I meant to get off at Las Vegas, but I missed my stop. Apparently, I slept through the drive through Nevada," The smell of hamburger filled the air as Thor began frying it. The noodles were boiling in a large pot and sauce was simmering on another burner. While this should have frightened the old Thor, this new Thor seemed quite comfortable with what was happening around him. "I got off here and bumped into Jane. She's an astrophysicist. We got to talking and she agreed to let me crash if I helped her out with her equipment."
"How fortunate for you," Loki said not sure if he was happy for his brother or bitter that he was able to escape. He chewed on his bottom lip, shifting in his seat.
Twenty minutes later, Thor was sitting beside Loki, both with a plate of spaghetti before them. A part had hoped that the meal would be horrible, just to prove to himself – and Thor – that nothing had changed, but it wasn't meant to be. Thor's spaghetti tasted heavenly, and soon Loki forgot about his jealousy and ate quickly, unaware of how hungry he actually was.
"So how have you been, Loki?" Thor asked, breaking the silence. He was eating significantly slower than Loki, but that's probably, because he wasn't nearly as hungry as Loki was.
Swallowing his food, Loki wiped his mouth before picking up a glass of water that Thor put in front of him and slowly sipped at it, trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to say. He hadn't been good, that much was obvious. Mother was in London and his father was raping him. But he suspected that it wouldn't be good to tell Thor any of that now. He cleared his throat and picked his fork back up, twisting what was left of the noodles on his plate around the utensil.
"I've been okay. Home is … stressful. But you know that. That's why you left, right?" He winced. His tone wasn't meant to come out as harsh as it did.
Thor didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah …"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for … that."
"No, it's fine. I left without giving you time to prepare," Thor looked down. He looked guilty. "I should have taken you with me," He looked back up then, and Loki had to steel his expression to keep from looking away. Thor opened his mouth to continue, but his gaze suddenly fell on Loki's hand. His brows furrowed. "What happened to your wrist?"
Loki felt as though he'd been slapped across the face. Dropping his fork – the sound of it hitting the plate loud, reverberating off the walls and his ears-drums – Loki quickly stood up from where he was sitting, jerking the sleeves of his shirt down to covered his bruised wrists. "I, uh … it's nothing. I slept on it wrong on the bus …"
"Okay," Thor said, nodding his head. His tone was conversational, but Loki knew Thor and he knew that Thor could tell that something was wrong. His brother could be – or perhaps had would be more accurate now – immature at times, but he was always perceptive of Loki.
"I'm tired," Loki said his jaw tense. "I know you're not living alone and that I've come uninvited –"
"Jane isn't here and even if she was, it wouldn't be an issue," Thor butted in, voice firm. The rapid thumping of his heart slowed just a bit at his words. "You're always welcome here, Loki," He got off his barstool and pointed out of the kitchen. "Turn left out here. There is a spare bedroom on the right."
"Thank you," Loki said. He retrieved his backpack from the living room where he left it and followed Thor's instructions to the spare bedroom. Loki dropped his bag and immediately crawled into bed when he got into the room, kicking off his shoes. Squeezing his eyes shut, he spent the rest of the night simply trying to calm down enough to sleep.
Author's Note – I hope you all enjoyed. Please review and tell me what you think so far.