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My Prince Loki

Chapter 2

Whenever Loki is mentioned in the accordance with the Domestic Violence, all the psychologists believe that he was a way I coped. According to them it’s a very common thing for a child to do, to conquer up an adult friend who protects or distracts them from the violence. Because if a child still had an imaginary friend past four years old, according to Benjamin Spock this usually meant that something is lacking in the child or in their environment. So Loki being there indicted my home life was nothing as wonderful as I wanted it to be, and by having him there, my life was made more bearable.

It’s a good theory and seems to be on the right track except for one simple fact. Before Loki had appeared in my childhood room, I knew nothing of the Viking’s Gods and their mythology. I didn't know of Odin the All Father, Asgard, The Tree of Life or even the Rainbow Bridge. Hell, I didn't found till later on that Thursday was named after Thor the God of Thunder or that Saturday was practically named after my Prince.

This was the same with my upbringing. I only got told the usual fairy-tales so my Mum (the one who did majority of the story telling) never really told me Norse mythology stories like “Tyr the Wolf” or any other stories Loki let me know of when he came into my life.

So how could I choose him to my special friend or Prince at the age of five when I didn't even know he existed? Why would I choose him to help me through the fights and the abuse?

Loki did help in his own special way (and like the counselors and psychologists said) he did distract and help me block out the raised voices and abuse when it wasn't directed at me. He would allow me only hear his voice by telling me of stories and songs of Asgard or just hearing him talk to me about random things like our past adventure in our little chubby house or teach me my ABC’S. The God sometimes even locked the door when he heard my Father thundering down the hall; the door that had no lock on it.

Loki did distract and protect me the best way he could, but he was powerless when the assault was turned from my Mother onto me. Sure his magic made it easier for me to run away and even made my voice louder when I wanted to yell; but Loki couldn't stop him once he began.

I got in trouble for minor things when at home, majority of time it was because my Father usually over heard me talking to Loki or I was talking about him at the dinner table instead of eating. My Mum worked most nights so it usually just left my Dad and me at home alone. So every time I did mention my Prince when Mum wasn't home, I got hit repeatedly as a lesson. And as much as Loki hated to watch and be near the assault, he couldn't stop it. Loki couldn't take away some of the pain, he couldn't be push or stop my Father’s rage.

My Dad would mainly use his hands hitting me on the back slide, my sides or my stomach, places where no one else could see the scars or the bruises. Sometimes he would use objects, usually wooden spoons and sometimes his belt with his belt buckle still attached.

My Father believed this was him disciplining me and it was right. For one he believed I deserved it and two because it was how he grew up as a child back in the sixties and seventies. Also he was a medical marijuana taker for his PTSD after, “stepping over dead bodies” as a young adult when he worked in the grave-yard. Today I know this story was a lie to get the substance to smoke and use to his own advantage leaving the government none the wiser. Though then it still didn't make me nor Loki hate the man any less to what he was doing to me.

“I despise him Louisa, why doesn't your Mother simply leave him?” He would ask on a number of occasions and my answer, while it varied like his question, it still held the same points,

“I hate him too,” and, “Mummy doesn't have anywhere to go”

For this was true, my Father had made us extremely isolated and very anxious about leaving due to his behavior.

My Mum was not really allowed to see her Mother nor was she allowed to come to my childhood home while he was there. This also went for my other extended family members. I had a Grandfather I never really knew all too well along with an Uncle who died a month after I had met him. We lived in a community that we didn't feel a part of except when we went to the store. Our neighbors were ghostly strangers who showed their heads when the, “domestics” got to loud, I don’t think they ever rang the police. But then again it was 1994 and Domestic Violence in America to the Police was consisted a private issue they never got involved in.

And because of that my Mum and I couldn't really turn to anyone for help. I wasn't allowed to tell my Kindergarten teacher what was going on because my Mum was afraid of losing me to the child services. So if my Dad had injured me to the point where I would be so numb or battered, I had to lie to my Kindergarten with the cliché excuse that I had feel over or had accidently done it to myself. I remember one day after my Father had once hit me so hard on my behind I couldn’t sit down on the floor without biting back tears.

Mum and I also received emotional abuse from the dickhead. My Mum was usually told she was a worthless human being and a terrible Mother while I was told I was stupid and a brat that held no worth.

Sometimes I thought it was my fault my parents’ marriage was so broken. For when they did argue (and I was listening) I would five times outta ten be the topic at some point. My Dad’s words still haunting me to this day,

“Ever since Louisa’s been around our marriage has gone to shit!”

“Louisa is the reason will we live like this!”

“Louisa lives too much time in her fucking head to understand what the fuck she’s doing to you and I! She’s a manipulating little bitch!”

“Maybe if she’d been born a boy she’d be different!”

It got to the point where I used to think about just running away and maybe Mum and Dad’s relationship would get better without me. The only thing that kept me there was going to Kindergarten, which felt like my only escape from the violence and my own fright of the outside world my Father had brainwashed me into thinking was filled with monsters.

I should have really been worried about the monster that lived with me. Loki used to describe my Father this way by comparing him to the likeness of a Frost Giant.

“What’s a Frost Giant?” I had asked him one day after he had let me cry in his arms. At that moment my parents were probably involved in another argument.

“A beastly monstrous creature that lives in an arctic world called Jotunheim.”

He told me moving me so I was looking up to his face into his green eyes; he wiped my tears away as I he talked with a gentle sing song voice,

“Asgard and Jotunheim went to war with one another before either of us existed. The All Father made a truce with the monsters and they haven’t breached Asgard’s defenses's since.”

I looked away down to my hands that were sitting in my lap, “Except when one got out and turned into Daddy.”

I remembered feeling panicked as I looked back up to my Prince, “Does that mean I’m part Frost Giant?”

He kissed my forehead hard bring me back into his arms, “You will never be a Frost Giant Princess.” He told me and had given me a tight squeeze.

He looked down smiling at me, “You’re not blue for starters nor do you have crimson eyes, they’re a beautiful blue.”

He pressed his lips stroking my face, “And you’re kind and grander than those vile heinous and inferior creatures.”

“Really?” I asked hiccupping crying again, he kissed me again on my crown.

“Of course, your Father is the one that is worthless and an imp, not you Princess.”

However my Father did have his better moments. Majority of the time after the physical or emotional fights my parents got into, he’d usually come home with gifts for Mum like flowers and would always sweep her off her feet with kisses and telling her how beautiful she was and how sorry he was. And each time he fooled my Mother and sometimes even me when he apologized telling me I was his angel.

And I believed him thinking with my Mother maybe he wouldn’t hurt us again. But Loki knew more than I did, he seemed to know of what Lenore Walker described as the Cycle of Violence.

Loki knew that what Walker described as the honeymoon stage wouldn't last and we’d go back into the tension building phrase and another explosion of abuse making these calm points confusing emotionally. During the honeymoon stages Mum would say Dad was a strong man and he loved her and me but as soon as he went back to being the asshole he was, she would hate him and turn into an emotional wreck.

Looking back at the ill amount of photographs in that time period you could see it on my Mother’s face. While my Father never struck it, his actions certainly did by making her look forty instead of twenty six. I was very much the same with giant bags under my eyes, the expression on my face almost distant. Where there are photos of my Father holding me I look extremely distressed and sick, my hand gripping Loki’s hand, though in the photograph it looks like an invisible object.

It’s almost like looking over Holocaust photographs and to be honest it sometimes felt like I was in a concentration camp with no way out.

It wasn’t till half way through my kindergarten year was when my Mum and I broke this cycle and escaped from my Father.


if you are in a similar situation with your home life environment and you’re getting abused whether it’s physically by being hit or emotionally by being called names, you need to tell someone you can trust. Because you don’t deserve it, regardless of what the person is telling you. And if your life is danger because of this person, whether its your Mother, Father or siblings, you need to report them.

If you need to talk someone after reading this, I’m here for you guys because you’re my fans and I really do appericate you reading my story. Also because I've written this chapter from my own personal experiences from being in a similar environment like Louisa.

Love you guys and don't forget to comment!



I love this so much. It is so good. :)

Natasha Barton Natasha Barton

I LOVE IT! Pretty please update xx

DaisyChain DaisyChain

Pleas update! I've read this so much, it's become a part of me. I feel like louisa is my long lost sister of sorts.

Arianna Arianna

I stumbled on this one night back in April and didn't stop until I finished reading all your posts at 5am. Love your writing, really looking forward to your next update :)

Golden Ebony Golden Ebony

Holy crap I've spent all day reading this story. YOU SIMPLY MUST UPDATE SOON!!

SerenitySpeaker SerenitySpeaker