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Taylor stood at the base of the front steps, her eyes fixed on the worn door of her house. It had always been home, a place of comfort and safety, but now it felt foreign. Her body was clean, almost miraculously so, after everything she had been through. But inside, she still felt the filth of the locker—the used tampons, the rotting food, the putrid stench of decay. It clung to her like an invisible weight, one she couldn't shake.
She shifted her weight, unsure if she was ready to face what waited inside. It wasn't just her father—who, without a doubt, was worried sick—but the conversation she knew she couldn't avoid. She hadn't been able to tell him before, not fully, and the thought of revealing the full truth about Emma, about the bullying, made her stomach churn.
The two days she had been missing probably felt like an eternity to him. What could she even say to explain it all? How could she even begin to tell him what Emma had done, how her best friend had turned on her? She clenched her fists, the memories of the locker pressing down on her like a weight she couldn't lift.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.
"Taylor?"
Her father's voice came from the kitchen. She heard the scrape of a chair, followed by hurried footsteps. In seconds, he was in front of her, his face pale with exhaustion, the worry etched deep into the lines around his eyes. The dark bags under his eyes, the dishevelled hair—he hadn't been sleeping, she realised. Two days. She'd been missing for two days. "Taylor…" His voice trembled. "Where were you? I was so scared—what happened?"
He looked at her, his eyes darting over her, as if making sure she wasn't hurt. The relief in his expression was palpable, but there was an undercurrent of confusion and fear. Taylor swallowed hard, struggling to find the words.
"Dad, I…" Taylor's voice broke as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. She wanted to collapse into his arms, tell him everything—the locker, the bullying, the power she didn't fully understand yet. But she couldn't, not yet.
"I'm home," she finished lamely.
He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. After being missing for two days and him being worried sick she guessed it was kind of a silly thing to say.
"I…" She hesitated, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. "I need to shower first, Dad. Please."
The words felt weak, like an excuse, but they were true. Her skin was clean, but she could still feel the grime from the locker, the violation of being shoved into that filthy prison, trapped for hours. Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions, and her body felt foreign—clean on the outside but still soiled within. She had to wash it away, even if the memory of it never would.
Danny's brows furrowed in confusion, but he stepped aside, his mouth opening to protest. Then he closed it, giving her a short nod. "Alright. But when you're done, we're talking. No more avoiding this, Taylor."
She nodded, avoiding his gaze as she rushed past him, up the stairs and into the bathroom. She stripped off her clothes, ignoring the sense of normalcy that made her skin crawl. The warm water hit her body in a rush, and she let out a small gasp at the heat. It wasn't enough. She scrubbed and scrubbed, letting the water pour over her, but it didn't wash away the lingering grime she still felt from the locker, or the memories that haunted her.. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't rid herself of the feeling of what had been done to her.
The bullying. Emma's betrayal. Her father's worry. And the Odinforce—this strange new power she still didn't fully understand.
After drying off, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. The grime was gone, but her stomach twisted as she thought about the conversation she couldn't avoid. She had to face him.
Dad was sitting at the kitchen table when she came down, his hands wrapped around a half-empty mug of coffee. He looked up when she entered, his face a mix of relief and tension.
"Taylor," he began, his voice softer now, but still filled with concern. "Please, just tell me what happened."
Taylor sat across from him, feeling small under his gaze. She looked down at her hands, picking at her fingernails. "I… I was locked in my locker," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They stuffed it with garbage, and… used tampons. Dead rats and rotting food. "I was trapped in that darkness for hours, choking on the stench, feeling everything rot around me."
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. Danny's eyes widened in shock, his face paling as the meaning of her words sank in.
"Who did this?" His voice was tight, a tremor of anger creeping in.
Taylor's heart raced. She hadn't wanted to tell him, hadn't wanted to see the pain and fury that would follow. But she couldn't avoid it anymore. "Sophia… Madison…and Em…Emma."
Danny's face darkened, his expression twisting with disbelief and fury. "Emma?" he repeated, his voice cracking. "Your best friend, Emma? How could she—"
"I don't know," Taylor said, her voice trembling. "She just… after summer camp, she changed. It's like she hates me now. She's been doing this to me for two years, Dad. Two years of bullying, of making my life hell."
Danny's hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. "Emma," he muttered again, as if he couldn't believe it. "Does Alan know? God, does Alan know?"
"I don't know," Taylor said, shaking her head. "But… you talked to him, didn't you? You asked if Emma knew where I was."
Danny looked away, his jaw tightening. "I did. When you didn't come home, I went to Alan's house. I asked him if Emma had said anything, if she knew where you might be. He said no. He said Emma was really worried."
Taylor's chest tightened. "She wasn't. She wasn't worried, Dad. She probably knew exactly where I was—stuck in that locker."
The realization hit Danny like a blow, his breath catching in his throat. He sat back in his chair, staring at Taylor with a mixture of disbelief and rage. "Alan said she was worried. He… he lied to me."
"Maybe uncle Alan didn't know," Taylor said quietly, though the thought of it didn't make her feel any better. "But Emma? She knew. She's been part of this from the start."
Danny's hands trembled with barely restrained fury, and for a moment, Taylor was afraid of what he might do. She had known he would be angry—furious, even—but this level of betrayal, the realization that the girl who had been like a daughter to him had been tormenting his own daughter for years, seemed to shatter something inside him.
"I'll talk to Alan," Danny said through gritted teeth. "I'll—"
"Dad, no." Taylor's voice was firm, though her heart was pounding. "Please. You can't. I don't want you to do something you'll regret."
Danny stared at her, the pain in his eyes almost unbearable to see. "I just… I can't believe she would do this. Emma. The girl was like family to us."
Dad's face twisted, the anger in his eyes now joined by something deeper—hurt. He exhaled heavily, setting the coffee mug down, and pressed his palms against the table as if steadying himself.
"When you didn't come home… I went to the school, Taylor. I asked everyone I could find if they'd seen you, or knew where you might be. Nobody told me anything." His voice grew tighter. "I even insisted on checking your locker myself. I thought maybe there'd be something—some sign or clue of where you went."
Taylor's heart lurched at the thought. Her locker? The idea of her father opening it after what had happened inside made her feel sick.
"But it was spotless," he continued, bitterness lining his words. "Completely clean. No sign of anything wrong."
Taylor's mouth went dry. She stared at him, struggling to comprehend what he was saying. "Clean? But… it wasn't…"
Danny nodded grimly. "Someone cleaned it up. They didn't tell me anything about what had happened. They just acted like nothing was wrong. Taylor, they're covering this up."
A wave of nausea washed over her as the realization hit. The school—the place she should've been safe—had actively hidden what happened to her.
"But why?" she asked, though a part of her already knew the answer.
Danny's face hardened, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "That's what I want to know. Why would they hide this?"
Taylor hesitated, biting her lip as the answer she had been trying to ignore bubbled to the surface. "Because… I'm nobody to them, Dad. I'm just a loner with bad grades and no friends. But Sophia? She's their star athlete. She wins track meets and brings good press. And Emma… her dad's a lawyer, and they've got money. The school probably doesn't want to mess with that."
Danny's fists clenched, his knuckles white. "So they're willing to ignore the fact that my daughter was... tortured, just because it's convenient for them?" His voice cracked with fury. "How could they do this?"
"They've been ignoring it for two years, Dad," Taylor whispered. "I reported it. So many times. And nothing ever changed."
Danny slumped back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't even know what to say… or what any of this means." His voice softened in defeat. "And we can't even go to the police, Taylor. We have no evidence. Not with the school wiping everything clean. When you didn't come home, I went to the police. They made me wait 48 hours before filing a report. Said you just ran off with a boy." In any other city, maybe they'd have acted faster, but here…"
Taylor nodded slowly, realizing the harsh truth of their situation. 'This is Brockton Bay,' she said, bitterness creeping into her voice."
"Exactly," Danny said bitterly. "This city… we've got Nazis running around, a goddamn dragon flying through the streets. The police are stretched thin, trying to deal with the worst this place has to offer. A missing teenager, as concerning as it is… it's just not as urgent when people are trying to get a handle on this hellhole."
The weight of his words hung between them, a grim reminder of the city's brokenness. Taylor knew her father was doing everything he could, but the systems meant to protect people like her had already failed.
"We'll figure something out," Danny said after a long silence, though his voice lacked conviction. "I don't know what yet, but we'll find a way. I just need to think this through."
Taylor nodded, her heart heavy. Dad's expression softened slightly, the anger simmering down, though his hands still trembled as he reached for his mug. He took a long, slow sip, but his eyes remained fixed on Taylor, the unspoken questions hanging between them.
Dad expression softened slightly, the anger simmering down, though his hands still trembled as he reached for his mug. He took a long, slow sip, but his eyes remained fixed on Taylor, the unspoken questions hanging between them.
"So… how did you get out?" he finally asked, his voice gentle but firm. "And where were you, Taylor? You've been gone for two days. I—I was out of my mind looking for you."
Taylor felt the weight of his gaze and the concern etched into every word. Her chest tightened, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers still nervously picking at her nails. She had known this question would come. Of course, it would. She'd been missing for two whole days, and she couldn't just explain it away. But telling him about her powers, about the force that had surged through her and allowed her to break free from the locker… she wasn't ready for that yet. How could she even begin to explain something she barely understood herself?
"I… I can't talk about that right now, Dad," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not ready."
His brow furrowed, and for a moment, she saw the conflict in his expression. He wanted answers, she could feel it. And he had every right to demand them. But there was also that deep well of understanding in his eyes—the same look he'd had after her mom died, when he knew she needed space even though he was hurting just as much.
"I don't like this, Taylor," he said after a long silence. "I don't like not knowing what happened to you or where you were. But…" He exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face. "I'll let it go for now. I'm just glad you're back. You're safe, and that's what matters most right now."
Taylor's heart squeezed painfully at his words. He was letting her off the hook, even though it was clear how much it hurt him not to know. She felt a flicker of guilt but also immense relief.
"Thank you," she whispered, looking down at her lap. "I promise… I'll tell you. Just not yet."
Danny sighed heavily, the tension in his posture slowly easing. "Alright," he said softly, though there was still a note of worry in his voice. "But we will talk about it when you're ready. I need to know what's going on with you."
Taylor nodded, her throat tight. "I know."
Danny stood up from the table, moving around to place a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was awkward, but comforting. "You've always been strong, Taylor," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "Stronger than I realized. I just wish I'd seen it sooner. I should've been there for you. After your mom…"
Taylor's guilt surged. "You couldn't have known," she said quickly.
Danny shook his head, his grip on her shoulder tightening for a moment. "You're my daughter, Taylor. I don't want you to go through this alone. I'm here now. I mean it."
"I know." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But I need to figure this out on my own. You've been through so much already, with Mom. I didn't want to add more to that."
Danny's eyes softened, the anger replaced with something more raw. "Taylor… I should have known. I should have protected you."
Tears welled in Taylor's eyes. "You didn't know, Dad. I just didn't want you to suffer more. You had enough after Mom. I didn't want you to fall apart again."
They sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. Finally, Danny reached across the table and took her hand, his grip firm but gentle.
"You're not alone in this, Taylor," he said, voice thick with emotion. "I'm here."
Taylor squeezed his hand, grateful for the comfort, even though the ache of what she hadn't told him—about her powers, about the Odinforce—still lingered. But that could wait. For now, it was enough that her father was with her.
She looked up at him, really looked, and for the first time in a long time, she saw more than just the grieving man he had become after her mother's death. There was something softer in his gaze, more connected. And in that moment, Taylor felt a little less alone.
"I'm glad you're here, Dad," she whispered.
Danny gave her a small nod, his eyes shining with the same emotion that was tightening her throat. "I'm just glad I've got you back."
Taylor blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, her heart heavy but warm. She wasn't ready to tell him everything—about her powers, about what had happened in those missing days—but knowing he was there, knowing he cared, was enough for now.
As Danny let go and moved away, she felt a small, fragile sense of peace settle over her. Maybe things would never be the same as they were before, but for the first time since her mother's death, she felt a little closer to her dad again.
Later that night, back in her room, Taylor sat on the edge of her bed, staring out at the window. The quiet of the house enveloped her, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of events that had unfolded earlier. She had almost forgotten about Muninn in her rush to get home, caught up in everything swirling through her mind. But when she looked outside, she saw him—perched on the power line, his silhouette dark against the night sky. His dark eyes were watching her intently, glinting with an eerie yet oddly comforting intelligence.
She blinked, startled, a small, surprised laugh escaping her lips. "You're still here," she murmured, her voice soft with amusement as she leaned closer to the window, feeling an unexpected sense of relief.
Muninn let out an amused caw, tilting its head in that curious way birds did, as though mocking her question. His wings flapped once, briefly, before he settled again, his posture calm and unwavering. He seemed almost… amused by her, or maybe, proud.
Shaking her head, Taylor felt a faint smile tug at her lips. There was something undeniably reassuring about knowing he was there. Watching over her. Protecting her, even when she didn't ask for it. The bond between them was growing, the strange connection that Odin had hinted at beginning to take root.
She stood, the familiar creak of her floorboards grounding her in the moment as she moved toward her desk. The night felt heavy, but not in the oppressive way it used to. For the first time in a long while, there was a strange kind of peace in the air. She wasn't alone anymore.
As she sat down, her eyes fell to her hands. Slowly, almost reverently, she raised one. The memory of the Odinforce pulsed beneath her skin, subtle yet powerful, waiting to be channelled. She could feel it there, just beneath the surface—raw potential that she still barely understood.
Her fingers moved instinctively, tracing a rune in the air—Algiz, the rune of protection. It was one of the few she'd learned from Odin, a basic one, but powerful. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she concentrated, focusing on the rune's meaning, its energy.
A faint glow began to shimmer in the air before her, the rune flickering weakly but steadily as it took form. The symbol hung there for a moment, glowing softly in the dim light of her room before it slowly began to fade. It wasn't strong, not yet, but it was there. It was real.
Taylor smiled to herself, her heart thudding in her chest with the thrill of discovery. She could do this. She had power—real power. And the more she practised, the stronger she would become.
Her gaze drifted back to the window. Muninn still sat there, watching her silently, as though judging her progress. Or perhaps he was simply waiting—waiting for the moment when she would be ready for more.
She let out a slow breath, feeling that flicker of hope again. For the first time in a long while, the crushing weight of helplessness that had followed her everywhere was starting to lift. She wasn't powerless anymore.
In the distance, Muninn cawed softly, the sound almost approving.
Taylor stood, her hand resting on the desk as she glanced toward the window once more. "Looks like we're in this together," she whispered, a newfound determination settling over her like a shield.
She wasn't sure what was coming next. But with him watching over her, she knew she'd be ready.