Wrong Number

TW: panic attack and angst

I stood in the kitchen, making lasagna. It was just me on this floor, the Avengers were in conference. Harley was working and I had gotten bored so decided to make supper. I had tied up my hair and rolled up my sleeves. I was making two trays of lasagna, since I knew there was over 10 people eating. I found the ingredients easily enough. I had discovered a box of poptarts hidden behind a can of corn. 

I was laying the pasta noodles in the baking dish when there was a sharp blade held to my throat, "Pardon me, but who are you?" The person, obviously male, growled. I tilted my head up, wanting to get away from the blade.

"H- Harper," I say, holding my hands up to show them I'm weaponless.

"You're that girl, hm? That they've been obsessing over." The voice sends chills down my spine.

"Um, yeah?" I say, the blade making me really nervous.

The man pulls his blade away. I immediately step a few steps back, turning to face him. The man was tall, around 6"2. He had long black hair that brushed his shoulders that was slicked back. His sharp green eyes watched me, his hands gripping long daggers. He wore a all black tux. My breath hitches, and I step back again. I look at him. This can't be real. This was a nightmare, it had to be. "What? Scared?" He smirks with a scoff.

I grip the counter for something to ground me to reality. My heart feels like it was being torn apart by a rough peice of glass. "H- how... Why are you here?" I whisper.

"Why are you here?" He asks back, vanishing his daggers as he flicks his wrists.

I'm shaking. I feel sick, and slightly dizzy. I'm clutching my chest, over my heart. It hurt so bad, it's hard to breathe. I can't speak.

"Answer my question!" He snaps, patiences gone.

I shake my head, trying to speak. But my mouth won't work.

"Do you know who I am?! I am a god! I am Loki!" He yells, stalking up to me. 

Fear peirces me, and my flight or fight instict hits. As my heart pounds, I chose the better option. Run. I bolt, turning and running. I go to the stair well and run up. I go to my room, hyperventilating. I lock my door, vision blurring. I whimper, the pain of the memories torturing me. My heart to my neck hurts as if it's on fire. I gasp for air. I clutch where it hurts, tears blurring my vision. I fall to the ground, sobbing. My body shakes violently as I claw at my shoulder, trying to escape this pain. 

When I calm myself down a little, I stagger up, grabbing my belongings. I shove them messily in my bag, wiping my tears away. I grab everything and go down the elevator, putting on my hoodie. I sneak out the doors, and  I start running.