Protecting You

Chapter 4

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sorry, just a reminder, two stars like this ** means it's a vision, but one star like this * means Harriet is awake. Thank you! :)

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**

Gasping, I'm sat in a small white room. There's nothing but white brick walls and the strong stench of paint. Leaning my back against the wall, I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, looking around for any clues.

"Please, I just want to go home. Can someone tell me why I'm here?" I shout, glancing at the white brick ceiling.

There's a quick flash of light and I hide my face in my arms. Then, I feel calm and peaceful. Raising my head, I smile when I see the person in front of me. Standing up, I click my fingers against my legs and look at her.

Her glossy black hair showers in waves around her pale, delicate face. Her emerald eyes shine with pure happiness and her thin lips smile down at me with proudness. The dark green dress floats down her body and drags slightly across the white tiles. She clasps her small hands in her lap and smiles at me, tilting her head very slightly.

"Hello my darling." She says, her voice graceful and happy.

"Mother, what am I doing here? I want to go home. I want to be able to walk and talk properly and move without it hurting." I explain.

"I know. I know. But there's things you need to see and people you need to talk to." My mother points out.

"Why?"

"To fix your father."

"How?"

"I do not know. That is for you to do. But I'm going to show you some things that you might not remember, you should use them in any way possible to make Loki a better person." Mother suggests.

"Okay. How do I start?"

"Give me your hand."

Stepping forward, I slip my hand between hers and blink. Suddenly, I'm at the back of a bedroom. Alone. In the middle is a king sized bed with dark green sheets. On the wall above the bed is a drawing of Iowa and Loki, both young and smiling. Walking forward, I spin on my toes in the dark room and look at the gold ceiling. Turning my attention to the bed, I notice two outlines of people. Beside the bed is a white lace Moses basket with a rocking wooden stand. Inside the basket, the baby starts to cry as it clutches the teddy bear with it's tiny hands. The same teddy bear I have. The baby is me.

Baby me starts to cry, kicking off the blanket and throwing her arms around. Iowa sits up in bed, along with Loki. He turns to her, placing a hand on her arm.

"I've got it." He offers.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Iowa lies back down, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. Loki stands up, his longish black hair sticking up at odd angles as he rubs his eyes. Walking over to the basket, he rubs his thumb against the baby's cheek. Slipping one hand under her neck and another holding her back, he lifts her up and scoops her into his big arms. Carrying her back to bed, he pulls his knees up and lays her over his knees. Lifting her arms up, she stops crying and instead starts to laugh.

"Who loves you? Daddy does. Don't tell mummy but daddy loves you more then mummy does. You're going to grow big and be a daddy's girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" Loki asks, kissing the baby on her cheek.

"Loki, darling, we love her equally." Iowa mumbles, lying on her side with her cheek against the pillow and smiling at Loki.

"Of course we do." Then he leans down towards the baby's ear and whispers "I will always love you more then you think." The words ring in my ears, like Loki is talking to me right now.

"What does this mean?" I ask myself.

"It means your fathers actions are presenting his love for you. You're his daughter and he's going to do everything possible to keep you with him." Mother explains.

"How can I show everyone that he's good?" I question.

"That is up to you." Mother points out.

Looking back at Loki playing with the baby. He smirks, kissing her cheeks as she kicks her tiny legs, giggling.

"Loki, I'm tired can you please just put her to bed?" Mother quizzes, placing a hand on his arm.

He looks down at my mother, his eyes sparkling and she smiles weakly, rubbing her eyes.

"Are you alright? You do not look well." Loki comments.

"Thanks!" She mumbles.

Loki places the back of his hand on her forehead, sighing. He then kisses her forehead.

"You have a temperature, my dear." Loki whispers.

"I'm fine." Mother mutters.

Loki climbs off the bed and places the baby in her basket, kissing her one last time. She starts to cry again. But Loki begins to sing in her ear. Words that are foreign to me, but seem familiar. As the baby drifts off to sleep, Loki stops singing and slips back into bed beside my mother. He leans his forehead against hers.

"I'll take care of you." He promises.

**

Dizziness grabs at me, my feet stumble as I land on a tiled floor. Placing a hand on the ground, I gain my balance back again. Directly in front of me is my face, me unconscious and wired to machines. Standing up slowly, I watch myself lying on the cream bed as the heart rate machine beeps loudly. Looking up, I notice my Uncle stood at the end of the bed. He strides around and sits in the plastic chair next to the bed. I sit on the floor, my foot resting on the chair leg as I look up at my Uncle, knowing he can't see me.

"Loki's good...good." I mumble in my sleep.

"I know, Harriet. I know he did not hurt you, he won't purposely hurt you again." My Uncle whispers.

But looking up at him, the sparkle in his eyes show he's lying.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop Odin taking your father to Asgard. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but you were so happy with him. I liked seeing you happy. I did not want to see you sad and hurt, so I couldn't handle telling you. I really am sorry Harriet and when you wake, I will prove it to you." My Uncle says, he slips his hand under my body's hand and our fingers drift into the spaces between his.

Looking down at my own hand, I can feel his pulse and his heat.

"I've learnt enough. Can you please send me back?" I ask.

"No my darling. You can only go back when you fully understand your father, only then you can persuade your Uncle to give him another chance."

"Please. I just want to be alive again." I beg, tears swimming in my eyes as I look at my Uncle.

His eyes burn with guilt, his face pale with worry and concern. He thinks I'm going to die. Looking closer, I can see he's certain. He knows I'm going to die.