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Odin was my first friend. My only friend.

When he first spoke, it was because I was crying. I’m pretty sure my dad had cracked a rib that night, and it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. Odin finally left his chair in the corner of the room and sat by my bed. He’d whispered that he’d stay with me. That only made me cry harder.

Soon, he held my hand. Then, he told me about his favorite classes and things that happened at home. He was lonely, too, it seemed, and so he visited as often as he could.

I was sixteen when I realised I loved him and started scribbling Mrs. Odin in my diaries. I always kept one, my notes meticulous and mundane, but I started going through more and more when Odin came into my life. I’d write stories and daydreams, hopes of how he’d propose, and try to sketch his face. My life was a story before, but he made it a fairytale.

And now he’s going to kiss me.

His gloves are still off, so when he touches my cheek, his palm warms my skin. My breathing picks up, and he leans closer.

“Rose?” he whispers.

My voice is barely audible. “Yes?”

“I … I think I love you.”

My breath comes fast. My tears do, too. “I think I love you, too.”

And he kisses me.

Oh my God, he’s kissing me. I’m being kissed. I’m kissing someone.

His lips are warm, he tastes like mint, and I suddenly wonder what I taste like. I had bologna for dinner. Oh my God, is it that?

Odin’s hand leaves my cheek and rests on my hip, pulling me closer, and I stop thinking about bologna. I part my lips and gasp when his tongue touches mine. The kind of heat I’ve only been able to give myself rises between my legs.

“I like that,” I say, smiling.

He smiles. “You really love me?”

My bedroom door flies open before I can answer.

I sit up, eyes wide. “Dad, no—” He seizes Odin and pulls him out of bed, throwing him against the wall. “Dad, stop!” I scream, scrambling to my feet and trying to pull them apart, but my dad throws his elbow back into my nose. Pain blasts through my face, and I fall back onto the bed, my eyes stinging, blood pouring over my mouth.

My dad punches Odin. Again. And again.

The tables turn so quickly that I can only watch as Odin shoves my dad to the floor. He hits him, and the crack of knuckles against nose is like a thunderbolt.

Odin pulls his mask down to completely cover his face again, his shoulders rising and falling with furious breaths as he stands over my dad.

“You’re far too comfortable hurting your own kid,” Odin growls, gripping him by his collar and lifting him before hitting him again.

Over.

And over.

“Odin, stop! You’ll kill him!” He doesn’t listen. He keeps hitting him, blood spattering across my bare legs and face. “Don’t kill him, Odin! He’s my dad! Stop! Stop it!” I push him as hard as I can, and he moves away, his back meeting the wall. He heaves in breaths, and I kneel by my dad, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Dad, are you⁠—”

He slaps my hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

I feel like I might puke.

Odin’s hand touches my shoulder. “Rose⁠—”

“Get out!” I scream. “I want you to leave!”

Even though I can only see his eyes, I recognise the hurt that flashes through them, but he says nothing. He goes to the window, and he does as I ask.