Worthless (tag: Phobetor)
Her father's calls had fallen on deaf ears. Well, not deaf; she certainly heard them. But Hel ignored them as she broke into a run, slipping into Concept a short distance away and reappearing in her bedroom.
It took hours for the tears to subside. Tears that made her feel even worse. She could hear her father in her head, telling her that crying was for little girls, saps, and weaklings. Loki had always hated emotional outbursts, and she'd given him a doozy of a fit today. She was so ashamed, so horrified at her words. Hel could not believe she had been so disrespectful to her father. Now she feared she would never see him again. She would certainly never have the guts to return to the cave. She knew she should go, should apologize, yet one thing continued to hold her back.
There's nothing out there for me.
The words of her father echoed over and over in her head. Each time she started to get her emotions back under control, she'd hear it all over again. She cried, she raged and threw things, yelling at the man that couldn't see or hear her. Then she would feel guilty all over again. It was a nasty spiral that needed to be broken.
She needed to get out of here. Just find someplace public where she would have to control herself until she was calm enough to behave rationally again. It took all of her magical and cosmetic prowess to make herself presentable after the abuse her face had taken from all the crying, but she thought the end result was acceptable. It wasn't like she was looking for social interaction.
A short time later, she was seated in a dark corner of a goth bar in a city whose name she had already forgotten. It didn't matter, nor did the manner of music playing. The only reason she chose this type of bar was that it wouldn't look at all odd for a woman to be sitting alone in a dark corner. All she was missing was a pack of cloves.
Hel stared down at her dry vodka martini for a minute, wondering what her father would say about drowning her sorrows. He would be a good one to talk. She'd always been very careful how much alcohol she drank; it was one of the lessons she learned from him through observation. Alcohol led to very bad decisions all too often. But right now, Loki was the last thing she needed to think of. Hel took another gulp of her drink, raising her glass up to catch the waitress's attention.
There's nothing out there for me. Damn him for making her feel this way. Damn the Æsir for doing this to them. And damn herself for being such a pathetic example of a daughter.