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Love Is A Dagger: A Short Story

By Rosalie Thorne





Godspouse: modern (possibly revived), Heathen, devotional, spiritual practice; a human x god/goddess relationship whether platonic or romantic; a modern example are nuns of the Christian faith being “brides of God”.


I didn’t have an “imaginary friend” as a child because it was always Loki.

Whenever I talked aloud it was never to myself because it was to Loki.

I never felt alone because Loki was always there.

… and all I’ve ever wanted is to be with him again.


Depression: a mental condition characterized by feelings of severe despondency and dejection, typically also with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, often accompanied by lack of energy and disturbance of appetite and sleep.


Suicidal: deeply unhappy or depressed and likely to commit suicide; suicide is the act of killing oneself on purpose.


… all I’ve ever wanted is to go home.



I had moved into my mother’s apartment for a few different reasons and what had once been their storage room is now my room. From the stand-alone freezer to the cluttered top of the dresser to the wall lined with cardboard moving boxes to the never-used exercise bike between the shallow closet and the door. Aside from making food in the kitchen or using the bathroom, my whole life takes place on the extremely uncomfortable queen bed.

Nobody notices as I slowly wither away. Mom is too high, my stepdad doesn’t understand mental illness, my siblings have their own lives, my best friend is across the country, and my coworkers don’t know me from Eve. I am skin and bones, I am immobilized by heartache... simply, I am dying.

And it is in the act of dying that the veil has thinned. It is in the act of dying that I am fading into the next world. It is in the act of dying that I am closer to Loki. I can feel him like a wind, I can hear him as my own inner voice, and dreams of him are inescapable.

When I feel pain, it is so tremendous that I cannot help but weep. When I feel pain, it consumes me, and I beg for death. When the pain subsides, it is as difficult in another way. When the pain subsides, it is with the spreading of numbness. When the pain subsides, it is as if I fall asleep again I may never wake up. But I do, and it poisons me.

I have thought about getting in my car, going as fast as it can, and going headfirst into a tree. I have thought about grabbing a knife, walking into the forest, and letting myself bleed out over the grass. I have thought about going to a lake, swimming to the middle, and taking in a deep breath of water. I have thought about tying a rope to the balcony, as we are on the second floor, and letting myself suffocate. I have thought… I have planned, but instead, I starve, I cry, and I sleep.



Days.


Weeks.


Months.



Back hurting from sleeping flat, I curl into the fetal position. Against my will, against my wishes, my lungs continue to expand and contract, my heart continues pumping blood, and consciousness takes over. In some weak attempt to feel less like a raw nerve, less vulnerable to my own emotions, I have layers of clothes and layers of bedding surrounding me. As I stare at the closed curtains over the closed blinds, I let my mind wander…

Now that I am so well versed in lying, in pretending, will anyone ever feel concerned again? Will they notice I’m a hundred pounds and barely eat? Will they notice I stay in bed all day? Will they notice I take a shower once, maybe twice a week? Will they notice my constantly puffy skin and red eyes? Can they hear me when I cry? Can they hear me when I beg for death?

Whenever I do leave the house, I am always on the lookout for someone who could be Loki incarnate. It’s an obsession… an addiction, and it sinks me farther and farther into the black hole of loneliness. I have given up my mental health, given up my physical health. I am ready to give up any resemblance of life… education, career, and even children. I have and will give it all up, just to have him back with me.

He should have never let me start this life and I should have never thought this was a good idea. I can feel his hurt, it is as tangible as mine. When the pain swells, as I sob, my shoulders curl forward as if expanding my back will give some relief to my chest. My exhausted eyes close, lids tightly together, in a feeble attempt to stop tears from falling. My frail body is constantly achy, my lungs feel fatigued, there is a very real pain in my chest - tense, twitching, sharp. Then the panic starts when I’m unable to breathe… my sinuses too swollen and clogged, my throat too raw, a deep breath impossible.

If I must live, why must a suffer? If I must live, why must I participate in this personal Hell? If I must live, why must I remember? Remember my Loki. Remember our life. Remember our love.

A weight falls across me as I lay curled into an insignificant ball, as my hands clutch at my ribs, in a soaked with tears sweatshirt, and the bedding pulled to my chin. A weight that is neither real nor imaginary falls across me as my body seems to unfold ever so slightly, as I begin to see with eyes unclouded by tears and start to hear the world around me. A weight that is exhaustion, my mind, body, and soul drained to the last drop… for I know, no matter how much pain I feel, how exhausted I may be, and how close I am to death, I will never, ever give up the knowledge of him, of us, of our love.

I rather feel and feel all than be “blissfully” unaware.

For a life without him is not a life worth living.



Fatigue: extreme tiredness resulting from mental or physical exertion or illness; a reduction in the efficiency of a muscle or organ after prolonged activity; weakness in materials, especially metal, caused by repeated variations of stress; menial non-military tasks performed by a soldier, sometimes as a punishment.



Surely this is punishment for being such a stupid fucking human, for insisting I reincarnate again, under some ridiculous notion that I needed to learn and grow and change. Surely this is punishment for giving in to my weakness, my humanity. Surely this is punishment for leaving where I belonged, the Fates pissed off I went against their wishes.

And so, I remember.

I remember how he’s taller than me, his chin able to rest against my hair. I remember his body, strong and athletic, like a warrior but also a dancer. I remember his hair, black as the new moon sky, but shines with garnet, like the last burning ember of a fire. I remember his eyes, emerald with flecks of gold, the only thing about his forever youthful face that shows his age, shows his knowledge, shows his struggles. I remember his smirk… the way his lips would slightly purse, pulling upward on one side.

It could be argued that he is the most human of the Norse Gods. Traditionally, he was used to talk about issues one may have with the family, friends, or town. Traditionally, he was used as an example of being different, of needing something different. But, also, traditionally he was used as a warning… a “this is what happens if you continue down your path”, ending with that of Loki tied up, with the dripping of poison.

But I am Sigyn holding the bowl above him, stopping him from getting hurt.

And I will do this forever.

Maybe he loves me for this. Maybe he loves me for my humanity. Maybe he loves me because I love him. Maybe he loves me because I take care of him. Maybe he loves me because I bring a sense of peace, and ice to his fire. Maybe he loves me because I inspire him to be better. Maybe he loves me because I am artistic and unafraid of the unknown. Maybe he loves me because I am the eye of the hurricane, the one spot of structure among the chaos.

When asked why I love him? “Because he is a god?” “Because of the power?” “Because of Marvel?” “Because… because… because.” No. I cannot explain it. And it doesn’t matter if it was since childhood or now, I simply love him because he’s him.

When asked why I love him? “Because he’s Loki.”

But the world doesn’t see how he loves. How he loves so viciously, so purposefully, so selfishly, and so purely. All the love he wished he’d received he offers back ten-fold. I did not change him, I did not fix him, I simply love him and let him love me.



“Love is a dagger. It’s a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It’s beautiful. Until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it… it isn’t real.”


Loki: Norse God, shapeshifter, and a trickster, works both with and against the other gods, god of fire and rain, either a lock or key - missing the other half, an enchanter and deceiver, a source of mischief, described as ambitions, cunning, and resourceful.



Days.


Weeks.


Months.


Years.



I am never alone.

… but I am never where I belong.

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