taken [loki laufeyson]

26: lifeless

"Do you want to work at SHIELD?"

-

The room is now quiet, but the small beeps and clicks of medical equipment set the silence to a beat.

His question, one so unexpected, catches me off guard. Did I heard him right? A job opportunity— at SHIELD headquarters?

I don't try to resist the look of shock on my face, and Steve laughs a little when he sees it.

"Now, I don't exactly know what you'd be doing there— probably an assistant job— and I don't know what your plans are, but I just wanted to put it out there." He frowns. "I don't want to overwhelm you though. I know you've been through a lot and haven't even fully recovered, but I just thought having a job there would help you get back on track, that's all." He stands up from where he kneels and runs a hand nervously through his hair.

Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is the opportunity I needed. Maybe this is the outstretched hand that will lift me back on my feet.

"Thanks. I'll definitely think about it." His blue eyes sparkle at my response.

"I gotta go now, unfortunately. Get well soon, Allissa. Text me if you need anything." Steve turns to leave, but hesitates. When he faces me again, the change in his facial expression is startling.

His eyebrows furrow together angrily and his lip is curled in disgust. "Whatever you do— don't go back to Loki." He steps closer to me, his voice lowered to a whisper. My heart pounds. "He's a monster, Allissa. A murderer. He never loved you. He was only going to kill you."

Steve takes a deep breath. "I think you need to get yourself checked out— mentally. No one in their right mind would feel for someone like that." His words sound caring, but they're laced with something else.

And then, in one swift motion, he leaves, the door shutting tightly behind him. After those last remarks, his absence becomes unsettling.

I sit in the hospital bed, alone and stunned. I haven't known Steve for long, but before just now, he seemed so genuine. But his last words sent chills down my arms and legs and leave me feeling scared. Those were anything but kind, caring words. They were fueled with poison and were heavy with cruel intentions. I feel like I've been stabbed again.

I take a deep breath.

He was just looking out for me, right?

That question echos over and over in my head, like I'm trying to convince myself. But each time it repeats, I feel a little worse inside. Like something is slowly eating me away.

-
2 months later, New York

In the bathroom of my new apartment, I pull my arms through the sleeves of a grey turtleneck and slip it over my head. Smoothing it down over my chest, I look up at myself in the mirror.

It's harder to do so now. This reflection hardly seems recognizable anymore. I can't bear to look into my own tired eyes for reasons I'm not even sure of. I just don't feel like myself. It feels uncomfortable. Everything feels off.

My long, untamed hair falls down my shoulders in loose curls. After a couple failed attempts at a bun, I shrug off the efforts and leave it as it is.