There are things worse than death, her father had drilled into her head, making sure his one and only heir knows that death and injuries are the least of their worry in this line of work. She’d known, she’d saw what happened to her father, she even experienced some herself. Mostly through whatever enchantment or dirty tricks her adversaries pulled.
But none, she know, could compare to what’s hiding in her head.
For it isn’t a dirty little vermin she could obliterate, nor a charm she could undo. It’s just one of those skeletons in the closet of her mind, taking the shape of one person she loathe – and yet care for – the most in all nine realms.
She’d like to blame it all on Hela, to pin it on their lengthy fight and how it drained all of her reservations, leaving her spent and yearning for a little comfort.
Mostly though, she’s pretty sure it’s his fault. The guilt lies on his pretty pleasantries, igniting her memories of all his fragrant promises and heartfelt confessions. Of his reassurances on how he’s not good at loving two people at the same time and how, given the chances, he’d pick her over anyone else anytime of the day. Of his vow to come back to her for relapses, given time.
Of how he would still be with her if only he could.
So it is his fault, for he caused this longing she feels in her heart. Missing the warmth of his arms around her and the simple pleasure of talking to him. About everything and nothing at all, passing the time mindlessly as they chat with fingers intertwined.
And it is his fault, for he conjured the mental images of what were theirs, what could-would-should have been theirs, and what future they might have if only he have the guts to stay.
Damn him, she scream soundlessly. Damn him for intruding back into her life when she have been doing her best to go on with her life and having fun while she’s at it, for taking back his cursed place on her mind when she have been trying hard to do anything but that.
Because it isn’t fair. The ease by which he could erase all progress she had and throw her back to square one. It’s not fair, the kind of hold that bloody git still have over her.
And it’s not fair, how he still have her heart on his sleeve.
Especially when it seems like he doesn’t care about it anymore.
At this point, she no longer knows whether this is just a mind trick Hela placed on her when she let her guard down, or if it’s just her mind doing its favorite pastime: torturing her.
All she knows, is that her mind is filled with all worst case scenarios. Of him moving on like she meant nothing, in that infamously coward way he’s known for. Of him being happy with another soul while she’s left here to rot. Of him, forgetting her because she never was anything more than something to fill his time, a trophy in his case.
She wish she could tell him all this, to just let it all out and let him know the damage he had inflicted. But her remaining common sense begs her not to, for the sake of her own sanity, because it will only lead to another night of silently choking on her own tears.
She can only wish he would reach out, and say something to prove to her that all these breakdowns and sufferings are not for nothing. That he’s worth it, still.
For if he ever come back, she would take him without missing a beat. And Elsa Bloodstone would conquer Hel, dethroned King of Asgard, even fight Mephisto himself if that’s what it takes to be with John Constantine.
She just wish he’d give her a sign, for she’s tired of waiting and this prolonged insanity is killing her slowly from the inside.
À la mort,
Prompt: Green Day’s Tired of Waiting for You.
“It’s your life and you can do what you want. Do what you like, but please don’t keep me waiting. Please don’t keep me waiting. ‘Cause I’m so tired, tired of waiting, tired of waiting for you.”