𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒.

𝘹𝘪. 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳

i woke up screaming. 

i never really slept well. but to have my entire fucking life be laid out perfectly in a dream felt like some awful plot device a greater power decided to inflict on me. was it really necessary? i cursed god under my breath, trying to use my anger to cover up the sadness and fear i still felt. it didn't work. 

my chest was heaving up and down. my entire body was so clammy i kept getting chills. there was a dull pain between my eyes. i didn't register what was happening until droplets of salty water appeared on my bed sheets. my eyes widened, and i realized i was crying. my cheeks burned in embarrassment, even though there was no one around.

this was my usual reaction to danger, and i pulled my knees up to my chest. the feeling of helplessness that burrowed into my heart was familiar. i had learned to cry quietly years ago. it was a talent one acquired living in the hellish landscape that was my childhood home. i was still shaking in fear, and tried to convince myself it was just a symptom of my brain sensing danger in my dream.

it was only a part of my powers. one of the factors that alerted me. i'm not actually scared enough to be shaking like a cornered chihuahua.

i whispered positive affirmations to myself, trying to calm down. no matter how many times i rocked back and forth with my knees hugged to my chest, i couldn't breathe. images of knives, both those used on me and the ones i used on others, cemented themselves into my vision. in my peripheral, i imagined bloody bodies. ones i made that way. my condition was only getting worse. there were too many things from the dream that stayed with me now that i was awake.

i pressed two fingers to my neck, checking for my pulse. it was there, but it was way too fast. and, when the door to my room burst open, it jumped.

thor was there, in the doorway, his hammer clutched in his hand. he wore pajama pants decorated with tiny cartoon mjolnirs and a simple white tee. i would have laughed at how ridiculous he looked with his hair tousled and his slightly narcissistic pajamas under different circumstances. i'd have to tease him about it later if i didn't kill him for seeing me like this.

my cheeks were hot, the temperature only made worse by the warm tears streaming down them in a steady pace. i didn't say a word when thor intruded my room. i wanted to scream at him to get out, to throw something at him, go strangle him- i had plenty of options. but i could only stare. my soul stopped the much more intelligent brain from doing a single thing. it was like a part of me wanted him to see me like this. a part of my wanted to be consoled. needed to, maybe.

i watched silently as thor stomped around the room, trying to figure out what had scared me so badly. with each step he took, i winced. his step was so heavy. it reminded me bitterly of my father's and i only started crying harder. once he seemed satisfied that there was nothing in the room that had harmed me, he turned to me again. i quickly turned away from him when he made eye contact. he sat down on the bed next to me, and lightly placed a hand on my shoulder. 

it was involuntary, but i flinched away from his touch, moving away from him on the bed. there was nothing i wanted more than to lean into him, but my brain overpowered my soul. i knew i had secrets to protect. 

"my lady, what troubles you so?" thor whispered to me, retracting his hand. i felt like i just kicked a puppy. i didn't mean to, but it was obvious i'd offended him. we were friends, having gotten closer over the time he'd been staying with the avengers. i knew almost everything about him. we had a bond, i just wasn't ready to admit my fears to him. it was hard to even look him in the eye, much less talk about my nightmares.