chapter 1 : The Present [Life Of Loki Anderson]

Loki always believed that beauty rested in still things. At least it's what he'd tell to reassure his father that he was not going crazy. He would be drifting in the dim and desolate corners of the metropolis's streets at midnight. The wails of the wintry winds would fill these streets. It reminded him of his reality – distant, abandoned and gloomy. He would sit motionless on the park benches, crying.

Loki was not depressed. He would just feel empty, and the only thing that could fill the void in his heart were tears. But even tears run out. He had already lost so many people he held dear; his own mother passed away in front of his eyes last winter. From then, everything seemed to go downhill only. Now and then, he would quench his desire to be alone in this manner.

He reached in his pocket for the picture his father gave him. It was the sole thing he had to remember her by. After his house burned down, that picture was the only thing that kept him going. Loki would find himself looking into his mother's eyes often, wondering what secrets she kept behind those kind radiating black eyes of hers.

He never learned who his father was until he was fifteen, and she was not even planning on revealing that. His mandatory therapists said that it was the base of his trust issues. They called it something else; but then, psychologists and shrinks were obsessed with coining every psychological condition.

He stuffed the picture back in his pocket and got up. Even at his bleak state, he was sensible enough to know not to stray the city streets at night for long.

He exited the park and headed for home. His mother's words resonated in his head – "No darling, home is not the same as your house. Home is where you feel wanted and loved." Every time he heard that voice, he would break down; wishing she were with him all along and that all would be fine.

He knew that voice only lived in his head and that if she were to come back, she would have to break open the casket he buried her in. That night was the most scared Loki had ever been; and why would it not? Burying one's own mother six feet under was not what every sixteen years old would dream of. It did not help that she was his only family who stuck with him despite the desperate situation he found himself in.

He walked on, shrugging those dreadful vibes off. He would shudder now and then, thinking about everything he had to go through. Now, he had only a picked few people he could trust with his eyes closed. There was Mr. Ericson, for starters. He had always been there and supported Loki and his mother. In fact, he was the only one who came to the funeral. Then there was Mona and Ray. They were the only friends Loki had, and now they felt like family too.

Having gone to the same school, lived on the same street, and gone through mostly the same issues in life, it was no wonder that they became friends.

Mona was Loki's childhood friend; she had been with him for longer than he could remember. She was an orphan and lived in the Arkhan's Orphanage for almost all her life. She would sneak out frequently, but her absence bothered no one. The two would usually run off to Ray's house and spend most of their afternoons there.

Ray was the adopted child of the Martins. The Martins were the richest household in all of Arkhan, and they had taken Ray in when he was only a child. Not that Ray was ungrateful towards his adoptive parents, but he never felt like they loved him. His parents never really made time for him, so one could never blame him for feeling like an intricate publicity stunt.

Even if they had nothing else in the world, they always thought they had each other. In their dysfunctional worlds, the trio always knew that they could trust each other without a doubt. They were like the constant -the 0.0.0 in each other's lives- because even if everything changed, they could look for each other and find the much-needed calm in their chaotic worlds.

At this time of the night, Loki was certain that he could not get into the Martins' Mansion, where Ray had emptied a room just for him. Besides, he had not shown up to Mr. Ericson's for a long while. Mr. Ericson, despite what other people thought of him, was a truly sympathetic father. After losing his only daughter Lana, his grief compelled him to confine himself from the outside world. Four years had passed, and yet, he still lays a bouquet on her grave every day.

Loki could never force himself to visit his mother's grave. He had not gone there since the night he buried her. For him, a visit would bereave him of his sanity, at least of what remained. But forgetting about it did not help. Sleepless nights and black dreams would frequent him.

Mr. Ericson's modest cottage lay distant from any hint of civilization, at the far most edge of Arkhan. Loki understood his desire for solitude. After losing a loved one, everything just was not the same. Words would never express the void in own's heart that even time could not heal. Loki entered, closing the rusted metal gate behind him. Mr. Ericson always left a key for him underneath the ugly garden gnome he had. After his daughter's untimely death, he always treated Loki like his own son. However, Loki always felt like he never did enough to prove how indebted he was.

He knew that him being there meant the world for Mr. Ericson, even if it was just for the winter break. Loki crept to his room and opened the windows. The cool, invigorating air always reminded him of his own house. One had to give up the metropolis to get such pure air now, as opposed to the smoke-filled, crowded, noisy atmosphere of the city.

Too drained to lay sheets on his bed, he retired on the sofa. Almost everything in the room was pink because, before Loki, this was Lana's. Mr. Ericson rarely talked about her. Loki knew a few things about her, looking at the room. There were her pointe shoes along with her many awards, and her elegant clothes all packed in one huge drawer.

Weighed down with too many worries, he closed his eyes. He knew he could never sleep without those pills his doctor gave, but he always tried. Insomnia had been developing for a long while already. He popped two pills and swallowed it in a single gulp. The doctor prescribed one, but Loki had evolved the need for two.

Calm after having taken the pills, he retired on the sofa. He could feel his worries slowly fade into the emptiness. Those pills were his salvation. They were the only thing that could fill the void in his heart, even if it were just for a few hours. After only two minutes, the pills kicked in.

Loki lost control of his own body and slipped into an easy sleep.