My Prince Loki
The next morning I woke feeling refreshed and almost brand new. Smiling I remembered having a satisfying stretch, my excitement for a full day with Loki had woke me up more.
“Morning Loki!” I yawned.
I looked around my room and even now still feel my heart stopping in its tracks.
“…Loki?” I asked, my heart beat returned and was racing against my chest.
It was just me, all on my own. My Prince wasn’t at my door, or at the foot of my bed smiling like he would be most mornings.
“Loki…?” I called again and had climbed out of my bed running over to my cupboard. I thought with a sprite of excitement that Loki wanted to start early on our Hide ‘n’ Seek game. I remember giggling throwing the cupboard door widely excepting to see my Prince. Instead I was met with my hanged clothes. Panicky I looked under the bed and then through my draws and my toy box chanting, “Loki” over and over.
But he wasn’t there.
On the edge of tears I threw on my shoes and rushed out the house into my backyard chanting my Prince’s name over and over as I looked.
“Loki stop it! I don’t like it!”
He’s here somewhere…
“Loki it’s not funny anymore!”
He’s just hiding and letting me found him...
“Loki where are you?!”
He wouldn’t leave me…
“LOKI COME OUT!”
He can’t leave me….
I looked around my swing set, the tree we climbed and my cubby house. All I found was empty spaces, not Loki smiling mischievously. I raced back inside looking under the table, behind and in the couch heavy crying to the point his name probably wasn’t even coming out probably.
“Louisa what’s going on?”
I ignored my Mother still searching determined he was still there tossing cushions and washing everywhere.
He’s here somewhere…
He’s just hiding and letting me found him...
He can’t leave me….
“LOUISA! STOP THIS!”
At that moment in my hysterical state I picked up my Viking mythology book ignoring my Mother’s angered shrieks. The book sent a state of almost calmness through me looking at the page that the book had flipped to. It had opened to Loki’s page; my drawing of Loki had been stick on over the original with adhesive tape. In my drawing he was dressed in his black, green and gold armour, his left fist just sitting in front of his face with his elbow resting on his upright left leg. He had had his small wicked smile on his face, his green eyes soft and kind but bold and brave.
Why would he leave me? I thought new tears brimming, my body feeling overwhelmed and heavy with sadness dropping to the carpet wailing.
My Mum at that moment snuck to the ground bringing me into a hug. I gripped onto her tightly crying louder than I had in a long time.
“Sweetheart what’s wrong?”
“I can’t found him!” I sobbed loudly gripping onto her feeling heavy and overcome with loss.
“Where did you last see him?” She said petting my hair repetitively.
“Before I went to bed but I’ve already checked in my room and he’s not there!”
“I can help you look –“
“You can’t see him!” I yelled pushing her away so she fell down on the carpet, her bright blue eyes hurt,
“No one can but me! You can’t help!” I yelled at her getting up stagging to my room slamming the door behind myself hiding myself in the closet.
I stayed there crying for the rest of the morning with each passing moment hoping for him to hear my cries and to able to feel his slender hand on my shoulder, his velvet voice telling he had returned and it was alright Princess.
The only hand I felt was my Mother’s later on, her, ‘no sweetheart’ cracking when I address her subconsciously as Loki, my heart picking up at the possibly. She took me into her arms then soothing me as I wailed with no tears.
“I shouldn’t have gotten sick…” I mumbled into my Mum’s shoulder through my hysterics,
“Oh sweetheart,” she mumbled and brought me tighter against her chest,
“Sometimes friends like Loki don’t stay around forever. Maybe Loki thought you needed to see the world without him, make some mistakes on your own.”
“But I don’t want to do that. He’s my Prince; we’re supposed to be together forever after.”
“I never, ever want to lose you.”
“He told me he never wanted to lose me and that he was always protect me,”
“I promise you Louisa, I won’t allow anyone hurt you that way again.”
“So why would he leave?” I asked my Mum pulling away to look at her eyes, hoping and wishing so much she had the answers like she always did. Hoping she could tell me why because I didn’t know.
I didn’t know or understand why he would ever or even want to leave. He told me he loved me practically every day, told me he would always be there for me and then he just disappeared.
It didn’t make any sense to me then and it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me now.
My Mother had smiled empathically stroking my hair,
“I don’t know Louisa. I wish I did sweetheart but I don’t.”
I hiccupped glazing at the door then to my Mum again,
“I’m going to keep looking for him.” I had told her, determined I would find my Prince.
But I didn’t. That day, one of the slowest days in my life went with me not finding Loki. I didn’t eat once that whole day nor did I really talk much to anyone. My eyes were too busy on the horizon and in dark areas trying to find Loki, trying to find little hints like he used to give in our hide ‘n’ seek games. I followed little movements of leaves and kept an ear out for a bark of dog telling me where to turn.
As I got more desperate I waited to see the wind blow hard against the plants to the direction I thought he’d be hiding. As I had begun to cry and wail I waited to see his black boot or one his slender hands waving at me behind the object he was concealed behind. As I had begun to scream I had waited for the comforting and safe arms of my Prince and his velvet voice to reassure me. But all I got was my Mother’s arms that I would bury myself into crying.
What I think only made the day worse was that when I went to go found Loki’s presents, in the box I kept them in, hoping that maybe holding them would make it better...
They were all gone.
Nothing was left except the rose. On that particular day I remember it being a bruised red, my fingers had looked extremely pale against it. I found the rose instead of in-between my bed and beside draws, it was on top of my draws busking in the warm autumn sun.
It was there where it stayed listening to me beg on and on that night for my Prince. But alas, he did not come back.
For the next month I was in what my Mother called it, “my cacoon.” I spent most days wondering around looking under and around things with a vacant expression. I didn’t talk to anybody nor did I look at anybody in the face.
I went from a loud outspoken to a shy and lost looking nine year old girl not knowing how to communicate with anyone aside from my Mother. Billie and Jenny nearly stopped being my friends for that time period because it was so hard to talk to me. Mainly because, if I did talk, all I would talk about was my Prince. Billie and Jenny tried on a number of occasions to distract me with visits to New York, (which was only a half-an hour drive away) to the zoo and other attractions. If I went, I would either just scan the horizon for the possibility of Loki hiding in the shadows or fake smiles and cheery comments to convince my friends I was ok.
Every other weekend I would either spend the time looking for him around my back and front yard or going to places with my Mum where I had been with Loki. We would look in plaes like the park, the shopping centre and the library. Everywhere we went to look for Loki I caused damage by knocking things over like displays, going under dressing hooks, throwing objects around while screaming his name out. Mum and I would always get kicked out soon after by the shop assistants or owners with me in hysterical tears and my Mother deeply embarrassed. Though, as soon as we were out, I was back to being silent crying softly shuffling around the place.
We even tired the woman hostile we spent a week in all those years ago. The women, who I couldn’t remember there understood more and even wanted to help me look. But of course, Loki wasn’t there. He wasn’t any of these places and nor would he ever be.
I don’t understand why my Mother encouraged it but I believe it was her way of being there for me. Either that or she wanted me to find Loki just as much as I did.
The only times I saw Loki was in my dreams. I would always be in my backyard pacing back and forth telling him to come back, most nights I would get no reply. Other times I would get a person coming back although they were all the people I didn’t want to see. Steven, Aidan, my Father. Then the rare times I would get Loki’s voice floating in the air around me,
“Forget me Louisa, please.” He’s voice would beg.
“I don’t want to!” I would yell back at it.
“Please Louisa, it be easier for both us…”
“NO! COME BACK!”
“I am sorry Louisa…”
And that’s when I usually would wake up either in tears or in my Mother’s arms shh-ing me.
As I looked for Loki I began to start to blaming myself. I started thinking how much it was my fault. I was the reason Loki went away.
If I had been as smart as he was, he would still be here. It was because of how stupid I was he went away.
If I hadn’t blamed him for the idea of the capsicum prank or for taping Steven’s mouth shut, he’d still be here.
If I’d just listened to him and not gone to see Samantha, he would still be here.
If I hadn’t got sick and gone to hospital, he would still be here. He only left because he didn’t want to be around someone sick and gross like I was.
If I had just held onto him tighter, he would still have been there in the morning.
These were some of the thoughts, some of the reasons I thought Loki went away. And as naïve as it sounds, I still believe some of them.
I made sure to study everything and to excel at everything in high school and at university because I’m afraid, if I don’t know enough, people will go away.
When I get sick my anxiety is far worse than the snotty nose.
When I hug people I hold onto them extra tight.
And finally it’s the reason why for the first six months to a year without him I become very possessive over everything I touched. I had trouble, and still have trouble throwing things out. Granted now I’m not holding onto rubbish and other useless things like I was when I was 9 and 10.
Now it’s just old textbooks, drawings, newspaper articles and other things I think I might need later on while others think I don’t need them at all.
The psychologists I’ve seen seem to think that I thought if I threw away the rubbish, I might be throwing Loki away. If I was to throw out the rubbish, I had to make sure I looked it over three times before I put it in the bin. The psychologists believe that while consciously I had given up; my subconscious was still looking for my imagination.
Although this theory contracts the other theory that they believe I made Loki go away because I was angry at him.
According to them, I was angry at Loki because I felt; somewhere in my subconscious that he was the reason I went to hospital. Not the pills or not keeping my mouth shut, it was his fault. They believed I had subconsciously acted out in revenge.
I want to say I don’t believe in this, but the theory does sound very plausible. I could have thought it was his fault. But at the same time,
Why did I grieve for so long and so dramatically if I had subconsciously got rid of him?
The answers to that is usually,
“Everybody grieves Louisa.”
“Loki was a big part of your childhood regardless of whether you made him up. He was still there for you in the times of the abuse or the confusing time when your Mother was with Steven."
Steven was still a part of my Mother’s life during all of my frantic looking and self-blame. He avoided me for this whole time only really greeting me in the mornings and slight nods or acknowledgements. I don’t really remember him being affected all that much. I remember through glances noticing him glaring at me every now and again but I regarded that as normal behaviour for him so I thought nothing of it. I did remember him storming out a couple of times when I was crying on the floor muttering about, “fucking kids” and being annoyed I had hidden them.
I never expected him to snap the way he did.
I was on my usual morning routine of checking under surfaces when Steven had gotten up early and seen me. This behaviour by this point must have been pissing him off just as much as it was pissing me off that from not finding the God.
As I was looking under the couch pillows I had been pulled away, the force of the Police officer pull making me knock my nose onto the couch and bleed instantly.
Crying and screaming in fright Steven flipped me on my back with a wild mad expression on his face. He then pinned my shoulders under only one of his large clumpy hands with the other on top of my mouth to silence my screaming. I remember trying to struggle even though I couldn’t really move under his grasp and still screaming for my Mother.
“You need to stop this stupid behaviour! Do you understand?!”
I had been thrashing back and forth as he had demanded down at me, his midnight blue eyes looking beady and deranged with authority.
I had flinched away from him and was about to kick him but he pushed one of his knees into my leg, my crying had grown louder due to the soaring pain my leg.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU MADE HIM UP! YOU MADE HIM GO AWAY SO STOP FUCKING LOOKING FOR HIM!”
He’s hand around my mouth then pressed harder, his thumb and index finger squeezing over my nose so I couldn’t breathe. He leaned in, his eyes and face just inches from mine,
“Do. I. Make. Myself. CLEAR. LOUISA?”
At that moment Steven was pushed off me, my Mother looking over him thick with rage.
“Get out of my house away from me and my daughter.” She had demanded with a calm but still rather lethal tone.
Steven had stood up then, both of his hands out in defence,
“Sarah I was just trying to get through –“
“No, you do not man handle her. You get out of my house and let me parent my daughter.”
“But she’s –“
“Get out Steven or I swear to God I will ring the Police for abusing my child.”
Steven then stormed out the house slamming the door behind him not saying a word. My Mother then knelt down to my level to check my injuries and to give me a hug as I cried heavy just as she did. I wasn’t sure if she was crying over me or her heartbreak, much like how I was unsure whether I was crying out of fear or over the God of Mischief.
That day was also the day where my Mother finally let me check my Grandmother’s for Loki. A place I hadn’t realize my Mum had been putting off for the past month. We hadn’t been there for so long nor had I seen much of my Grandmother after that night she had come over to look after me.
I vaguely remember my Mother on the phone to her each night during my vacant time; only mainly because I heard mine or Loki’s name being mentioned. My Mother had tried each night to get me to talk to my Grandmother but I didn’t want to talk to her as I was too busy looking around things.
So when we finally did go see my Grandmother, I was in for a shock.