Page 32 of The Forbidden Villain
Thor is loyal to Odin, and he always keeps his word. He’s the best protector.
As long as you’re loyal to Odin. He protects those who suit Odin’s idea of life.
His protection is instant. He doesn’t care about the past or future, only about the present, and the enemy would be destroyed one way or the other.
We’re all loyal to someone because, without loyalty, we have no moral compass of what’s wrong or right.
Rubbing my forehead at this explanation because it goes deeper than the usual passages about Thor and his part of Norse mythology, I realize maybe Lev, whoever they are, knows way more than I do on the subject.
Seems to me like he’s your favorite too.
Protecting those who matter to me and punishing those who betray me is something I live by. So of course I admire Thor.
Yeah, I should have expected that this day would end with an odd note as well. Even my online buddy became weird as fuck.
I love Thor, but I still won’t agree to such a gift.
I’ll find a way.
Better don’t, or I’ll assume you’re a stalker.
I plead the fifth.
Oh…so they must be from around here?
Although what else was the person supposed to say after I called them a stalker for wanting to send me a gift? It’s not their fault I have a fucked-up upbringing and have a hard time trusting anyone, let alone strangers.
I’m sorry if I sounded rude.
You don’t need to apologize. Ever.
I eat some more strawberries and can’t shake the feeling that these words sound really harsh.
The people-pleaser in me, though, who is afraid to lose a so-called friend with whom I can talk about something other than my miserable life, wishes to soothe the damage my curt replies might have caused, so I type again.
I had an eventful day.
Did someone hurt you?
It’s…more complicated than that.
How complicated?
I’m not sure you want to know all the details.
I never do what I do not want to do. So I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t been interested in knowing.
It sounds like something my brothers would have said, and although I had suspicions before, I’m almost ninety-nine percent sure my friend is a guy.
Polishing off my strawberries, I put the bowl on the nightstand and muster the courage to open up a little to get an outsider’s perspective.
I have no one else to ask, because no way in hell am I bringing it up with Dr. King. Besides, I can share enough to explain my situation, but he’ll never guess who I am. I’ve seen alot of stories about relationship problems on the website, so it’s not even that suspicious coming from me.
There is this guy…
I freeze as the blond-haired man comes to mind, his piercing blue eyes tempting me with their existence alone and urging me to succumb to the temptation to find what hides behind his carefully crafted facade.
He makes my life unbearable.
