A Tale of Mischief and Mutants

Safe?

---Sam---

I can feel myself barley hanging onto consciousness, I've lost a lot of blood. I guess after everything this is how it ends, me alone lying on the floor bleeding out. I wrap myself up in a ball my spirit hasn't given up. I hope I can somehow pull through but my body... I can tell it's starting to give up. I close my eyes and resign myself to wait for the end.

Not a minute later I hear the door open. I strain to sit up and barely manage. If someone is coming for me, I won't be able to fight them off in my current state and I won't be able to use my abilities to protect myself either because of the inhibitor collar around my neck. Through my hair that is messily covering my face I see a tall figure. I instinctively try and scoot away.

My hair moves a bit as I do this, and I get a better look at the person in the room. The figure is a tall man with long black hair he seems familiar, but I can't fully trust my eyesight right now with everything going on. The man kneels onto the floor I assume to get a better look at me.

I involuntarily begin whimpering barely stopping myself from outright sobbing as I remember the last time I was in this position and what happened shortly after. I know if I make too much noise it will only make him angry which will make what's about to happen so much worse. I'm hiding my face now willing myself to shut up to not show my fear, but it's completely taken over as if my own will didn't matter. Then the man speaks to me his voice in a hushed concerned yet reassuring tone.

"Hush now mortal, you're safe."

I manage to finally force myself to stop. 'Safe?' I don't even know what that feels like anymore and why 'mortal'? Maybe I'm more far gone than I thought I was, maybe this man isn't even real and I'm delirious. I sense the man draw closer, he gently takes my hand. This is odd usually they'd nearly yank my arm from its socket and drag me off the floor and to the bed if they were to take my hand.

I'm scared, this man isn't being predictable that usually means they're particularly sadistic. I pull away quickly and attempt to get away. The man grabs me, and I begin to fight him I know it's futile but I still struggle anyway keeping my resolve not to just roll over anymore.

He's too strong and though I truly try I can't break free from his hold. Oddly I can tell he's trying to be gentle. Most times when I'm being strong-armed like this and fight back, I end up with bruises but although I can tell this man is a lot stronger than the others, he is aware of it and seems to be trying his best not to hurt me. 'Why?' 'What does he want with me if not the norm?'

The man takes out a syringe I begin to outright cry in fear. I had gotten control before, but at the sight of the syringe I completely loose it. He can't want anything good if that's involved! I've been through this kind of thing before and instincts are telling me to do whatever it takes to avoid being injected with anything.

This had happened before many times it never ended well for me. I begin to shake. He realizes it's because of the syringe. An expression of anger crosses his face for just a millisecond before going back to the puzzlingly concerned expression he's kept during this whole encounter.

His anger causes me a whole new wave of fear. I must be being too much of a pain in the ass and his patience with my struggle has almost reached its limit. I don't understand why he's been patient at all. He speaks in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Easy mortal, this won't hurt you. We need to treat that wound and I can't do that until it's numb."

I don't know if he's telling the truth it doesn't really matter, I suppose it's going to happen either way. It always does. I feel silent tears run down my face as he takes the syringe and injects it right near the wound in my leg. I couldn't feel the pain of the injection over the pain in the wound it's self and nothing bad was happening, not yet.

He takes his hand and puts pressure on the wound sending a surge of pain through my leg causing me to involuntarily let out another sob. Part of me understands that medically this is what needs to be done to keep me alive but a bigger part of me goes into panic. I know it's going to make him angry with me but it hurts so bad that I don't have that much a say over it when I begin to struggle again it's just instinctual.

I try to get away, it doesn't matter how much I struggle though, he's too strong I'm overpowered and my moving around is only causing me more pain. A minute passes and the wounded area of my leg has become completely numb, it hits all at once and I take a deep breath of relief. My mind clearing now that the pain is no longer consuming most of my thoughts.

"Is it working?"

I manage a nod not entirely understanding why he cares if it is or not they never care, they don't even bother with painkillers the majority of the time. Suddenly something happens with my leg I smell a burning smell and see a green glow on the wound the bleeding then stops. This confuses me I must be losing it. The man picks me up and carries me over to the bed. I instinctively start fighting him again.

I know what comes next. I made him angry and now I'm going to pay the price. To my surprise he just sits there holding me. He's not bothered at all by me currently trying to kill him he simply holds on in the same gentle but firm way. I eventually exhaust myself and realize that if he had wanted to take advantage of my current state he easily could have and would have already done so.

Part of me feels safe maybe even protected being held so gently, it's comforting enough to me in this moment that I stop fighting him. A couple seconds later I feel his grip on me lighten. I could get free of him now if I wanted to but I don't, he just helped me. I for sure would've bled out had he left me alone on the floor.

I lean into him a little bit though I'm still worried that at any moment this kindness could end and he'll wind up being just as cruel as all the others. It doesn't instead the man keeps reassuring me in a hushed voice and I begin to believe him.

For the first time in forever I allow myself to relax letting out a soft sigh of contentment, for the moment I seem to be safe and the man's arms are surprisingly comfortable as are his fingers gently combing through my hair as he continues to whisper comforting words. ...Maybe, maybe he wasn't angry with me before.

Maybe for once someone was angry because of what happened to me. It's been such a long time since anyone's been gentle with me like this or shown me any kindness. This guy he feels safe I decide. I turn a bit to look at the man holding me and get a clear look at his face it suddenly hits me exactly who it is, the man, the one who has been comforting me, who pulled me off the floor and treated my wound was Loki.

Loki, the man who invaded New York killing over 100 people either personally or as a result of the Chitauri army at his command. I don't know why but this doesn't matter to me all that much. It just doesn't seem to matter. New York seems like a lifetime ago and he hasn't done anything to hurt me.

I decide that against all logic I'm going to trust him, because God knows I haven't been able to trust anyone in a long time. The irony in my decision isn't lost on me I used to hate him when I was young because of New York. Now I'm filled with a little bit of apathy over that whole ordeal as he comforts me, nothing he did even comes close to being as scary as the monsters I've faced.

Right now being held and comforted for the first time in years I couldn't care less who he is or what he's done. All I care about is now in this moment Loki makes me feel safe and safe wasn't something I'd felt at all in, well, years. Eventually I fall asleep from exhaustion.