Trigger Warning!: This chapter contains some pretty shitty things including anxiety, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, and other related things.

If any of you feel that you can't read the chapter, but still want to know what happened, I will gladly send you a PM with an abridged, less graphic version. Sorry for any inconvenience.

When Avi reached her room, she was full-out sobbing, tears pouring down her face like a hot, salty waterfall. She could taste them, and her stomach began to churn as nausea began to kick in.

He'll kill me! She clutched her head, breathing heavily as pure terror began to overtake her. He's going to kill me! I- I did it without thinking! He's going to torture me and kill me!

Desperate, she searched the room for something to block the door with. Settling on her bed, she began to push it forward, towards the door that lead to the hall, tripping over her own feet as she moved. The second door, leading to Loki's bedroom, was open wide, gaping like a yawning mouth, as if it was waiting to swallow her up. There was nothing she could do about that, she realized, a pressure mounting in her chest as she began to panic. Fear welled up inside of her, until she felt like her chest was going to burst open. She could feel a scream building up inside of her, and she stuffed a balled-up fist in her mouth to muffle it. She could taste blood, slick and warm, and she knew she had bitten too hard.

It's your fault, a voice whispered in her ear, it's words harsh and sharp, like knives, cutting into her very soul. It's your fault that Naomi's dead.

"No," she whimpered, clamping her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to block out her surroundings. "No! No, no, no!"

Stop denying it. You know it's your fault! You're weak! Weak and useless! The voice was spitting out poisonous words, letting their meaning worm their way into Avi's heart, eating her from the inside out. You run track, don't you? Why didn't you run faster? You wanted her to die, didn't you? Heartless! You're a hypocrite, calling him a murderer, even though you're the one to blame! It should've been you under that car, Havilah Sverrir. You're slow and stupid. It's your fault, your fault.

"Stop it… Please…" She could see the room melting around her, the walls dripping onto the floor as her surroundings began to twist and change, and she could smell hot metal and fresh blood. A thousand voices rang out in her mind, blaming her, cursing her, calling her names too foul to speak aloud, and she sobbed wildly, begging, pleading for it to stop. She could hear screams, the sound of breaking metal, cars crashing, the wailing of a crowd. Her head was pounding, and she felt her stomach cramp up, as if someone was grabbing her intestines and tying them into a tight knot.

I can't breathe, she realized, her head spinning as she stumbled to and fro, trying to stay on her feet. My chest hurts… Oh, god, it all hurts… Am I dying?

She fell to the floor, her legs unable to support her any longer, and curled up into a ball, pressing her cheek onto the cool concrete. Her chest was tightening, squeezing her heart like a vise, and she felt her breath speed up. Something inside her was almost relieved, the prospect of death welcoming and sweet. If she died, she wouldn't have to deal with this. If she died, she could be with Naomi, where she belonged. She wouldn't be alone anymore. Avi closed her eyes, letting the pain overtake her as she was swallowed by her own thoughts.

"Havilah?" Someone was shaking her, their cold hands soothing her burning skin as they called out her name. "Havilah? Wake up, Havilah..."

Avi mumbled, trying to speak, to tell the person to leave her alone and let her die, but before she could get a single syllable past her lips, she vomited, coughing heavily afterwards. Her throat felt raw, painfully so, and every breath she took stung.

"Oh, Gods," she could hear the person sigh in relief. "Havilah?"

The nice, cool hands guided her into a sitting position and she opened her eyes, confused and half-asleep. A pale face swam before her, framed by dark hair, and she blinked sleepily, trying to remember where she had seen him before. Her brain, however, didn't comply, and she was met only with a partly-finished answer, as if there was some sort of blown fuse box in her mind.

"Here," the person murmured, their voice quiet. "We need to get you cleaned up. Let me just-"

Avi mumbled something, incoherent, before slumping forward again, her hair falling into her eyes and obscuring her already fuzzy vision. The stranger sighed, before gently scooping her up and standing, exiting the room. She leaned into them, her eyes closing as she felt herself slipping back to sleep. She could feel strong, hard muscle underneath the person's shirt, and knew it was a man, but his name still hovered at the corner of her mind- like a pesky bug that wouldn't allow itself to be caught.

A door creaked, and she could smell the chemical, faux-lemon scent of disinfectant and cleaner, and she knew they were in a bathroom. The man set her down, and she felt the cold tiles of the floor leech through her thin pants, making her muscles seize up in shurprise. He began to peel off her clothes, as quickly as possible, but she was too weak to protest. Havilah looked at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes heavy, and watched as he stood up, taking her with him and holding her against the wall, before turning a shiny, chrome knob.

Fwissh! A torrent of icy-cold water hit her, and she shrieked, suddenly snapping wide-awake. Desperately attempting to block the water, but hindered by the man's tight grip on her wrists, she screamed out for him to stop, his name coming to her lips without a moment of hesitation.

"Stop it! Loki! Turn it off! Stop!" She begged, shaking from the freezing, wet onslaught, practically in tears. She could hear the handle's shrill squeak as it was turned off, and the last few drops of water splashed down, hitting the top of her head.

"Here." Something soft and thick was thrust into her hands, and she pulled it around herself, the scent of fresh laundry vaguely comforting. It was a towel, Avi realized, her ragged fingernails catching on the bits of loose thread as she ran her fingers over it, still slightly confused. She looked up, a soaking wet Loki towering over her, his jet-black hair sticking to his cheeks. His eyes, bright and impossibly green, seemed to hold some trace of concern.

"Wh- what…" Her throat stung, as if she had just delivered a long, loud speech to a large audience, making her voice slightly hoarse. "What h- happened?"

"I went looking for you," Loki explained, adjusting his grip on her so that his hands moved from her wrists to her waist. "And entered your room. I found you passed out on the floor in a ball, hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably."

He looked down for the first time, suddenly noticing how wet he had become from holding her upright in the shower. His grip loosened, and Avi began to plummet towards the ground, her body still too weak to function properly. Within seconds, she was in his arms again.

"Your blood sugar needs to be spiked," he told her as he scooped her up, towel and all, and made his way towards the door. "A glass of juice will wake you up…"

With a resigned sigh, Havilah nodded, sleepiness crashing over her again now that she was no longer being blasted by frigid water. Loki walked down the hall, silent, and she closed her eyes, her head dipping as her body began to settle down, like a child preparing to go to sleep.

"Agent Barton," Loki called out for the stone-faced man, nodding for him to come over. Avi could feel the vibrations in his throat, and realized that she was leaning into his neck. "Go and get Havilah some clothes."

The agent nodded, briskly walking away and leaving Havilah acutely aware that all she had on was a towel and a soaking wet bra and underwear set. Her cheeks turned bright red, and she made sure to keep from making eye contact with Loki.

They entered the kitchen, and he carefully placed her in a chair, before going over to one of the cabinets and searching around for a cup. Glass clinked, and drawers opened and closed, an ear-splitting symphony of slams and crashes that made her head pound.

"They're…" Havilah leaned on the table, pressing her cheek into the smooth wood and weakly waving her hand in Loki's direction as she mumbled. "They're in that cupboard… The glasses…"

"Oh." The god paused, almost as if he was embarrassed, but quickly grabbed a cup from the area she was pointing, placing it on the counter and beginning to rummage through the fridge. He picked up a carton of apple juice, the golden liquid splashing as he poured it into the glass, a few stray drops falling onto the floor. He placed it in front of Avi, and she nodded in a weak attempt to thank him.

They sat in silence, Havilah occasionally sipping at the juice, her hands shaking. She could feel Loki's eyes on her, and she glanced down at her lap, lips pursed.

"Here." Agent Barton appeared in the doorway, a bundle of clothes in his arms. He placed them on the table and left, silent.

Avi wasted no time in attempting to put on the clothes, but her movements were so clumsy that she could only manage to get one arm through the wrong sleeve, accidentally punching herself in the face in the process. She could feel tears of frustration beginning to well up inside of her. Loki shook his head and leaned forward, helping her guide her limbs into the proper holes, before handing her the pair of sweatpants. They sat still, small beads of water occasionally dripping off the end of their hair and splashing on the concrete floor.

"Loki…" Avi began, fidgeting slightly. "Why… Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I can't let my workers die, can I?" He shrugged, shaking off the events of the past hour, the way one dusts themselves off after a fall.

She took another sip of the juice, letting it sit in her mouth momentarily, savoring the sweet, fresh flavor. Swallowing the mouthful, she placed the glass back on the table and began to trace the patterns ingrained within the wood, her finger following the line of one of the whorls in the table.

"Would you still help your workers if they… Wanted to die?" Her words faded, becoming a whisper, as she hung her head low.

"Are you… Talking about yourself?" He asked her, a note of confusion in his voice. His dark brows drew together, a small furrow forming between them as he regarded her, obviously bewildered.

"Death doesn't exactly sound too terrible, right now," Avi shrugged half-heartedly, not even bothering to lie. "But I made a promise, and I have to keep it. I mean… I'd accept death if it came, but I won't actively seek it. I promised to live… No matter how much I hate it."

"Who did you promise?"

Havilah didn't answer, simply standing up and placing the empty glass in the sink, before walking out the door. She paused at the threshold, not bothering look back. Loki stared at her, waiting for her to speak, taking in the way she clutched at the doorframe, her knuckles white

"Thank you..." She murmured, her voice quiet, before exiting, head hung low.