I found a bunch of short fics on my tablet that were written sometime during the summer before HoH? And I was like, why don't I post them? So here.

Out of all of the seven, you never thought you'd be the last.

(You never wanted to be the last.)

If anything, you thought you would be the first to get yourself killed. In a logical sense, you were pretty malnourished from all those nights on the run, when you didn't have food because you were sad and forgot to take any. You were much too scrawny and probably underweight and skinnier than you should've been, and you guess that's why you compared your physique to Nico di Angelo so much; that boy could make anyone look like a freaking wrestler. And don't forget the fact that you were repulsive and dumb and troubling enough. You were definitely the right amount of the insane for the job, along with oddly depressed.

(You still are every single one of those things.)

The cold air makes you shiver and wonder why you came here alone. At night. In the middle of a particularly chilly November. Then you realize that there is no one who could've or would've come with you, anyway.

(Apparently, you can add "cowardly" to the list as well, since you can't even bear to admit any of this to yourself. Or accept the fact that you are way more than "oddly depressed.")

If they're not dead, they simply aren't around. When you settle in Texas, far away from both camps, people tend not to visit. Especially when you don't bother inviting anyone. After Jason had died in the war, you left your short-lived demigod life behind. Thanks to the gods, monsters don't find you, anymore. You still can't decide if that was actually the right decision.

(Why do you do this to yourself, anyway?)

It's funny, really, how guilty it makes you feel to breathe, especially here of all places. Sure, it's a cemetery, but all the dead souls are in the underworld or living another life. And the souls you're looking for aren't even here - they were burned at Camp Half Blood, under intricate shrouds that sent smoky patterns up into the otherwise clear sky.

(Do you want it to hurt?)

On the selfish train of thought, you hope all of them stayed in Elysium. That way, you at least have a chance of seeing them again. Just one more time. You know every single one of them was placed in Elysium, the real question is, did they choose rebirth? And knowing them, they probably did. ANd suddenly, you're at least 24 feet into a random cemetery in Texas. Alone with your thoughts.

(Yes. Yes you do.)

Inside the metal gates, it's just stones and bodies. Even you're just a body. Your life went away already. Piper probably stole it in some kleptomanic episode before she took that plane about two-thirds of the way to Tokyo. Maybe it was lost in the ocean along with the rest of the wreckage. You wish she had stolen your oxygen, instead, then maybe you wouldn't of had to watch the world around you deteriorate further. Or Frank fall limp in Hazel's petite arms, or Hazel's eyes shatter when he did.

There are so many maybes and what ifs and it's overwhelming nearly all the time. But now you only feel numb. Maybe (so many maybes) you're freezing to death. What if (and so many what ifs) you're finally dying? Like, physically dying. Slowly losing consciousness and never wak - nevermind. You can still see the little puffs of air escape your lips. You can still hear your heart beat in the silence. You don't have any black dots floating around your line of vision. That's a shame. It's too bad, really.

(You say it's because you are living for the rest of them, but you know that is a blatant lie when you're barely strong enough to live for yourself.)