Unworthy

Chapter 2.3

There was only so much he could take, without a second thought he reached down a picked up one of the glass shards. He squeezed it in his hand tighter than he thought, cutting his hand but he didn't let his grip falter. Thick red blood ran down to the floor and pooled around his foot. "The pain would take it all away.. At least for a little while.."

He stared at the shard in his hand while his mind slowly drifted back, finally drawing a blank. Against his usual judgment he thrust it into his side. He let out a faint gasp not fully realizing just what exactly he'd done. It was a familiar feeling, a moment of excruciating pain that after awhile faded into an almost relaxing feeling. It gave him that subtle urge to let go, to just give in to the bliss.

But his body was stubborn, even when his mind had come to peace with the idea of death his body continued to fight. Perhaps deep within the broken down man that thought remained, it was just pushed so far down below the surface that he'd over looked it. That or he never really cared enough to resurface it. Living had become too hard. I mean wouldn't it be simpler if he was gone? After all it would solve everyone's problems.

This was just a taste of what he had endured. Coming to know the peace in the burning sensation his body gave him. The memory was the real torture. Anything he could do to distract himself from that truth was worth it. His body would heal but his mind never will.

"This is what I deserve.." He absentmindedly twisted the shard even further into his flesh, dulling empty pain was beginning to be drowned out by the sharp physical one. He was unsure if he'd hit anything vital. Ultimately he didn't really mind, I'm this very moment the only thing he wanted was to forget. He blacked out for a second and stumbled back into the wall. He hit it rather hard with his other side. His legs were feeling weaker by the second so the wall became sort of a crutch for him. He slid down until he was met with the cold tile floor.

He blinked his eyes slowly in attempts to clear his vision which was becoming more and more hazy. His lids were sticking together and he could feel himself fading slightly, a few spots worked their way into the not so clear version of his cell. His breathing slowed and calmed, no longer panicked. His eyes darted around the small room seemingly looking for something, or someone. Loki was a man of habit and when he felt pain there usually was more to come.

He needed to remember where he was. Perhaps this wasn't such a great idea after all. While attempting to flee his pondering mind he may very well send himself spiraling into his troubled subconscious. An image of a woman appeared before him. Whether it was a figment of his imagination or some otherworldly ghost that'd come to haunt him he had no idea. She was quite beautiful but otherwise unfamiliar. "Who.. Who are you?" He let out as a near whisper.

"You are strong Loki, you will overcome this misfortune." She held a hand out as if reaching for the broken man. His face was confused however he returned the favor as he stretched his clean hand towards her weakly. It seemed to tremble like it was being pulled down by the force of gravity. He nearly touched hers and then she vanished, leaving him alone again. 'I guess I am going crazy.' For the first time since being locked away a weak smile perched itself on his lips, part way out of hysteria and another relief. He was going crazy.

Thick blood ran out from between his fingers and saturated a good portion of his clothing. His eyes were becoming blanker by the second; his focus was only on the pain in his side. Slowly it lulled him into a deep darkness. Everything went limp as his head hung slightly to the side. All was quite except for light breathing.