I find that when no light can reach me, I lose track of the days rather quickly.

I knew that a great amount of time passed, or maybe none at all, because each second in Thanos hands was like a thousand years. I reached the conclusion that I'd been in the Mad Titan's clutches for at least a month now, or maybe a year, maybe an hour.

I can never tell.

I am sure of one thing: Thanos has to be wrong about me. I do not possess the power he searches for, whatever he thinks I contain within me has not been awakened, I haven't shown any sign at all. I don't know whether to be terrified or relieved. But he still had overwhelming patience with me, still did not relent with the instruments of torment and the illusions.  Most days I can't tell what's real and what's fake, which scars are just my imagination and which ones are the real thing. It's maddening, really, trying to decipher reality from what's been implanted in my head. He showed me visions of a life a could've had with Loki, realities where Loki never knew he was a Frost Giant, when I never met the Avengers, he showed me visions of Loki himself torturing me, but I always knew it wasn't real.

In those visions, Loki's eyes glimmered in a way it never would, it was always small things that made me figure it out: His eyes were kelly green instead of emerald, he said something that he never would in reality, it turned out to be funny, really, how easy it was to realize that Loki was fake. I can tell it was driving Thanos mad. It matters not if I know if it is real or unreal though, I still feel pain as much as I do in reality.

My memories began to clash together, in the blessed moments of solitude I had, I tried to recollect my memories before Thanos. The people I cared about, the people who cared for me. Now I can't even remember if I even had that. Some memories told me I'd been starved,  abused, neglected, some told me I'd never had a care in the world.

Some of the faces I could recall I couldn't place a name, I remember a man with long, blonde hair, but his name dissolved on my tongue, and each time I thought of him his memory drifted further away from me. It pains me that I can't even remember if he was worth remembering.

And even as I show no proof of the power Thanos thinks I have, still he continues with the mind games. To break me into a shell of memory and derive me of my morals. But what good is a mindless slave that cannot benefit you? Will he eventually put me out of my misery when he realizes it?

I'm not unconscious this time when Thanos enters the chamber, his daughter standing in her usual position behind a panel of light with symbols and charts on its display I can't identify. I didn't even notice that she'd been standing in the room with me until the Mad Titan had walked into the room. "Is it ready?" Thanos demands gruffly. Skipping any pleasantries, can't say I'm exactly disappointed. I force my heavy eye lids open so I can peer at him from my levitation chamber, or whatever the hell I'm in. "What? No hello, good morning, how's your day been?" I sneer, my throat scratchy and my voice gravelly. From screaming or dehydration? Both?

The blue-skinned girl I've learned to be Nebula doesn't give me a look of warning like she used to, she's probably accepted now that I'm too stupid to listen to reason. Thanos doesn't even spare me a glance, just continues to stare at his daughter and wait for her reply, the fact that he doesn't even bother to taunt me back sends a shiver down my spine. "Yes father, I've made all the preparations. Everything is ready." Nebula told him, and I direct my head back toward the ebony ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing myself for what's about to come.

"Perfect. Release her arm restraints before you begin." Thanos orders Nebula, referring to the iron shackles that encase my hands completely. Confusion sparked up within me but I pushed it down, knowing I need to prepare myself for whats to come. "But father, those gauntlets..." "I know what they do, you need not remind me. Release them," Thanos demanded, venom in his tone. Another shiver ran down my spine, Thanos was definitely in a foul mood, that couldn't be good for anybody. Most especially the girl in his clutches, which happens to be me.

I began to hope that they would  figure out that torture wasn't bringing anything out in me, perhaps we should play a heated game of chess and maybe that'll bring out the power? I almost laugh at the thought of that, but I don't dare say it aloud. Thanos would surely skin me alive. Perhaps he'd make it an illusion so I'd survive it, he wouldn't be so kind as to putting me out of my misery.

Suddenly, the shackles that sat on my hands were suddenly release with a click, and they did not stay afloat with me, they fell to the ebony stone floor with a loud thud. I frown, not being able to even comprehend how that works. I open and close my fists, curling and bending my fingers. They tremble as I stretch and move them for the first time in a very long time, whether that's years or hours I didn't care, it still hurt like hell. I almost moan in relief to my hands finally being set free, it was cruel to leave them like that for so long. But I know the ache in my bones is nothing compared to what I'm about to experience. So I purse my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut once Thanos says, "Perfect. Start it up."

I try not to flinch at his smooth voice.

I don't bother to fight the tugging in the back of my head, weight starts pressing on my eyelids and I accept the darkness, having fought it for a long time. The outcome was never different no matter what I did.

A familiar electric jolt rifled down my spine, a bright burst of color flashes beneath my eyelids and a quick pain stabs my head. I know that this is the illusion taking affect, some strange foreign technology transferring my consciousness into whatever was awaiting me. I clench my jaw and grind my teeth tightly, preparing myself for what's to come.

When my eyes open again, I know immediately that something is different. Rather than a vague sense of electricity buzzing through me, this felt murky, like treading through muddy water. Nothing but darkness met my vision and I blink against it, unsure if I'm laying down or standing up. I feel no points of contact, no gravity, nothing. The only feeling, or even sound, is my labored breaths in the otherwise numbing silence. The sudden change of tactic makes me nervous, but I know there's nothing I can do about it.

I move my head from side to side, searching for anything to show me what awaits me. I finally find a sense of reality when I take a step forward and find solid ground beneath me. Still, nothing but the never ending black. Upon further inspection, I figure out I am not in a room bathed in darkness, I am in a room composed of the same black rock as the chamber Thanos is keeping me in. I hold my hand in front of my face, squinting in confusion when I see that I can see everything fine, when there is no light source to give me the ability to.

I have to remind myself that this isn't real, and this doesn't make sense because this was made by Thanos and his wretched daughter. But I'm not sure what makes this so terrible, I would take solitary silence rather than endless torment any day. Nonetheless, I take another step forward and continue to walk in this room that seems to be endless. The blackness seems to further press down on my with every step I take, the air growing heavy with a silence so intense I want to scream to break it. I continue my stride forward, not bothering to call out.

I pause, in front of me a flash of color, then a shimmer as if there were a thin wall in front of me. I press my palm to it, it offered much resistance, like a wall of shimmering rubber. I pushed harder, leaning my body weight into this barely visible barrier. I could see the other side of the almost translucent wall, I startle when I see the moving illusion of people. My curiosity outgrows my caution and I throw my shoulder through the rubber wall, I expected some protest from the taught substance but surprisingly it succumbed to me, and I went right through like wading through water.

The breath knocked out of me momentarily, a small pain shot through my shoulder and I collapsed onto the black ground, I try to throw my hands out in front of me to stop my fall, but my hip still took the brunt of the fall, and I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out. I push myself onto my hands, jerking my head up to try and figure out where the wall led me. I frowned, in front of me is the same thing I'm being held in, a room a black rock with no light source, yet I can see everything before me perfectly fine.

My heart leaps when I see what's before me.

There's a chair rooted to the ground in the center of the chamber, a man sits atop it with his head hanging low, long, messy raven hair pooling past his face and obscuring my view of his face. His arms are covered with barely healed burns and scars, his hands were chained behind his back and his skin rubbed raw by the chains. I don't need to see beyond his hair to know who it is.

"Loki," I gasp, scrambling to my feet within seconds and ready to launch myself at him. I have to stop myself before I completely gain my balance. It's not real, do not fall for this trick. Loki is dead.

No amount of illusions has changed his memory, a man who was deceived by Thanos, I knew that, and while I couldn't remember much else, the silver-tongued prince falling to the barren dirt never left my mind.

Still, even as I tell myself this, I cannot help but take a step closer to him. The sight of him brings raw, uncontrolled anger to my veins and I want to rip apart whoever did this to him. Not real not real not real. I have to repeat it over and over in my head, but still I cannot believe it fully. In my peripheral I see a door I had not noticed before thrown open, and I go stiff, my entire muscled going rigid as Thanos enters the room. A whimper escapes Loki's throat as I see him notice him as well. It's enough to make me try and step toward him again, but I'm surprised to when I realize I'm rooted in place. My feet are stuck to the ground, though I grunt with the effort of trying to move them.

Loki tilts his head up, fear festering in his emerald eyes. My heart shrivels up and I ache to run to him, even if its only an illusion. I try to ignore how real he looks, how not one single feature can remind me that it's not real, unlike most illusions where it's far too easy to sort out the differences. Loki's chest is bare, uncovered with scars like I'd expected. Was that another memory, or a recollection of an illusion that pictured him covered with scars?

Thanos walks slowly around him, surveying him with the same look he's given me so many times. "Still sane, Laufeyson?" Thanos purrs, his purple lip curling in a sneer. I fight the growl that itches at my throat, I want so badly to launch myself at him and demand he never look at Loki like that ever again.

Not real not real not real.

The thought doesn't help me at all.

Neither Thanos nor Loki spare me a glance, they don't acknowledge me at all, like I don't even exist. Like I don't belong here.

Loki levels a glare at Thanos, and I see now he has a busted lip with blood dried on his chin, his nose is crooked crudely and one eye is swollen shut and colored with purple. I am unable to fight my snarl at this, my anger heating my blood, still neither person looks at me. It's not real, I remind myself once again, repeating the sentiment over and over again in my head, willing myself away from this place. Still, I cannot seem to tear my eyes away from Loki, seeing the damage of his skin.

"You will never break me," Loki snarls, wincing at the movement of his lips. I expected to see anger mirror in Thanos' face, but instead he gives a patient grin, his eyes glinting with a madness that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Never say never," Thanos taunts, his voice taking on a sing song melody, his tone smooth like silk.

Then, like magic, something appears in the mad titans hands, something long like a staff with a glowing red end. A branding iron, I realize to my horror. Something comes to my mind, a memory that had been calling out to me and I hadn't realized it, the burn mark on Loki's chest I noticed, he'd refused to answer my inquiries about it. I try once again to jerk my feet into action, a cry forming on my lips as Thanos raises the iron. Not real not real not real, I repeat, tears brimming my eyes. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real," I repeated it over and over again as if that would make it reality.

As Thanos drives the iron mercilessly into Loki's chest, right where the scar tissue had been, a searing pain exploded in my chest and I am unable to stop the scream from ripping through my throat, I fall to my knees as Loki's screams fill my ears. His skin smokes and reddens, a horrifying hissing sound filling the air. A mark twin to Loki's appears above my breast, and another scream tears through me. The bar sizzles and eats through my skin, searing heat caving into my chest as vivid, horrible pain ate away at me.

And then it hits me, all at once, what this was. Why I couldn't discern this Loki for the real one. This wasn't an illusion, it was a memory. This is what happened to Loki when he fell here.

And this is real.