Bruised + Broken (Loki x Reader)

Backround Info

Can all broken, bent, and burned things be turned back to gold? You want to know because you have been all of those. Broken, bent, and burned may as well be your name. 

Your misfortune started when you were left as an infant at a fire station, in northern New York. Your mother had left a note saying that you were a mistake and that she didn't want you because you reminded her of her past. You found yourself bouncing from foster home to foster home, in search of a true family. In the process, you were mentally and physically abused by every foster home you encountered. 

You had been told that you were beautiful. But you rebuked that because being "beautiful" has caught the eyes of some very dirty, loud, and cruel men. You are scrawny with hair the color of perfectly melted milk chocolate. You have blue eyes that people say they could see through miles of fog. One man even told you that he often found himself drowning in the depth of emotion and pain, when he looked into your eyes. 

When you were young, you used to look at yourself critically. With your hair floating around your face in waves of brown, and gold. Your smile broken, but easily deciphered as happy by others. 

The first time you knew you were different was when you were beat for the first time. You were four years old, and you had thought you were going to scar from the tears in your skin from your foster-father's rings. You thought this because all the other children had always left this home with purple, pink, and white scars. But for some reason, you were different. Only hours later, you had fully healed. For the exception of the scar across the right side of your chest, which you had had since birth. 

After that, you were bruised, hit, kicked, raped, and beaten bloody more times than you could count. There were multiple times when you went to the hospital that you hoped of being taken out of the home just like the other children. But every time, you would heal, like the wound was not as bad as the doctors thought it was, so they sent you back. The cuts and bruises you acquired healed within hours, and the broken bones you received never took more than a few days to heal completely. 

When you were eight, your foster-father threw you down the stairs because you had taken the blame for breaking a vase for a younger child. You couldn't allow them to be hurt for such a simple childish mistake. As you got tossed down, you held your breath, waiting for the pain to hit. But instead, a soft warm periwinkle light surrounded you and set you down gently at the bottom of the stairs. That scared your foster-father. No one would want a freak who could heal fast and seemed to have powers. You were to be sent away to a group home that would find you being attacked on a daily basis. 

You were stuck at that group home for three long years, where the abuse did not, for the first time, come from the adults. The girls you shared the home with were three times eviler than your past homes had been. These girls tormented you, threw you downstairs, stabbed you in your sleep and committed many other horrendous acts of cruelty. The first night you were there, they sliced a X across your stomach, but when you had healed by morning, they realized they could hurt you over and over without getting caught by the head of the house. Not only did they get away with doing these acts at night, but they were also doing it during the day. To make it worse, they would tell the head of the home that you were suicidal, and she believed them because you had spent your days in your room crying and praying for any type of escape. While you were in this home, you were as quiet as a mouse. Only speaking when spoken to.

Finally, you got thrown out of the group home. Instead of being thrown down the stairs, this time the girls were holding you over the balcony on the third level of the home. They were threatening you that if you refused to take the blame for breaking the head of the house's silver mug, they were going to drop you. You were thinking about trying to wiggle out of their grasps when the sudden bright light came once again. But this time instead of just saving you, it actually fought them. It lashed out at the girls holding you over the balcony, and it threw blasts of the light at them, making them scream out in pain. Then, the girl who was holding you let go. You fell, and the light saved you once again. And even though it saved you, you still managed to hit your head on something, because you passed out and the head of the house found you outside on the ground the next day. She was screaming at you because the girls not only told her that you had broken the mug, but also that you snuck out and got wasted and was locked out of the home. 

Sadly, your next home was just going to be you and a very horrible, loud man. Basically, your own personal hell.