COMPLETED! Loki lets out a small chuckle, his eyes sparking with wild delight, "Of course we're bad for each other. We're both raging thunderstorms that will leave the world broken in its trail." He pauses, his eyes staring deep into mine, as if the...
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Kamilla:
As his hands squeeze my throat tightly, I close my eyes and focus. You can do this, I think. My brow furrows as my right-hand thrusts forward to slam his chest with enough momentum to shove his astral form outside of his body. Instantly he releases his grip and I fall to my feet my eyes snapping open. His face is frozen in shock as his astral form floats upward, while his physical body crumples to the floor unconscious. He gapes at me, at first he's surprised, then his eyes narrow and a wolfish grin fills his face.
"Impressive. It would seem you've been downplaying your sorcery abilities. You're more powerful than you've let on."
I narrow my eyes and hiss through clenched teeth, my anger boiling over, "No more of your games! Stop trying to manipulate me! I've had just about enough of your nonsense!"
My vision goes spotty, I feel woozy, and my limbs drag heavily. I know I need to leave before I start swaying on my feet, I don't want him to see me weak. Without another word, I spin on my heels and leave the room. As soon as I reach the hallway and slam the door behind me, I crumple to the ground. The hardwood floor is cold against my hands and I try to focus on its solid girth beneath me, but my head spins and black clouds fill my vision. Astral projection has always drained me. But this is worse than normal, I had to call on every ounce of strength I had just to do it. Since I'm too weak to stand, I crawl on my hands and knees down the hall and into my room, trying to keep my rising panic at bay.
Once in the safety of my own room, I drag myself slowly onto my bed; I'm so exhausted that I pass out the moment my head hits my pillow.
My phone jolts me awake the next morning with a ding. I crack my eyes open and glance at the too-bright screen, it's a text from Dr. Pamela Sanchez, my psychiatrist.
Are you still coming to our weekly appointment today at 11:00? I didn't see you last week, so I just thought I'd check in and make sure everything is alright.
I groan. I was so caught up in planning my scheme to rescue Loki last week, that I completely forgot about my appointment. I text back quickly; Don't worry, I'll be there.
I glance at the clock, it's 10:30 Am, "Shit. I slept over twelve hours." I put my phone down and roll out of bed. I don't have time to shower so I peel off yesterday's clothes and dig through my closet to find something nice to wear to my appointment. I settle for an elegant sleeveless teal dress with a cinched waist that highlights my almost nonexistent curves. Then I throw on my black leather boots and tie the look together with a black blazer. I want to look my best for this appointment, so I also put on a sparkly silver necklace with matching earrings. Then I quickly run my fingers through my course, unruly hair before tying it into a topknot and throwing on some burgundy lipstick and mascara. I look at myself in the mirror and smile, trying to convince myself that someone so put-together couldn't possibly be a madwoman fending off depression. I quickly add some blush to my sharp cheekbones and look in the mirror a second time. I don't feel entirely sane, but at least I look the part. For once I actually look pretty, beautiful even. Nausea rises in the back of my throat and I grimace, beauty is just a tool. I remind myself, no need to fear it.
