My breaths were laboured, the weight on my chest was crushing my soul and suffocating me. The slow onset of panic displaced all other emotions; my hope and happiness fizzled out, not even leaving any glowing embers. I was lost. Lost in my own world of desperation and misery.
I might-as-well be a child of Akhlys. Anguish was my solace, the state of mind that lifted my burden off of my chest every day. My mind greeted these poisonous thoughts with open arms because at least they would never abandon me.
Desperation was my doctor, it was a piercing beam of a golden ethereal light shining through the thick fog that shrouded my mind, guiding me towards a blissful relief despite the raging seas of emotions.
In my mind I pictured a classic red and white lighthouse standing proudly despite its state of utter disrepair. Firmly planted firmly atop the lone island in the stormy sea. The rocks were jagged and cruel, hoping to lure lost sailors to their death.
The waves were pummelling both the lighthouse and the shores, like a never-ending barrage of artillery fire. The roar of the waves and the booming of the foamy water on the weathered rocks was defeating and disorientating.
The murky green waters and the bright foamy white that clung helplessly to the towering cliffs were tinted with a violent crimson hue; blood.
My mind was bleeding and infecting my every thought and every dream. The torrent of crimson leaking from my invisible wounds wouldn't stop; the sea levels were rising rapidly.
The once defiant green of the sea was now a deep and viscous maroon.
Slowly but surely the sea of blood crawled up the sides of the rocky outcrops and up the mighty cliff faces, drowning and dragging down everything in its path.
As the sea neared the dilapidated lighthouse, the fog mixed with its red waters; becoming the colour of the sickly red smog that I witnessed in the pit itself.
The final assault on my hope had started. The twisting white stripe that snaked its way up the tower was being coated by a thick layer of red; and the defiant yellow beam could no longer be seen.
The end was near there was no denying it. The raging waters had reached the base of the tower; leaking in through the doorway and beginning to climb both inside and out.
That was when my hope was finally snuffed out, not by the ridicule of others but by the sight of the blood trickling out of my gaping wound and down my scrawny leg. The simple mortal tool had finally caused Apollo's hopeful rays of sun and Hestia's warming fire to be completely dispelled from my fractured mind.
I gazed down contently at the fresh wound that adorned my thigh. If only I had known that escaping my dastardly existence was so easy, and so comforting. I was completely entranced by the hypnotic trickle of the droplets of blood running down my skin. They seemed as if they were running away from my wound and away from me, although I couldn't blame them. I wish I could abandon myself and be someone else.
My thoughts were interrupted by a deep throbbing in my head and lightheadedness washing over me; my vision was becoming blurred and my grip on the blade was loosening.
I felt a sense of dread and panic gather in my gut.
I shook my head in an attempt to remain conscious, and luckily it worked. I wouldn't go to my father after only one cut, even I was stronger than that.
I brought the blood-stained blade to my skin once again and took a deep breath before slowly applying pressure. I could feel a sharp stinging sensation as the sharp edge sank into my tense muscle. It made me recoil slightly and ease the pressure.
No. I deserve the pain.
I repeated those five words in my mind over and over again until they were ingrained in my very soul; my new reason for existence.
I may not be the hero that saves the world and gets the girl, but at least I was a hero in my convoluted and twisted mind. I was freeing myself from the burden placed upon me by everyone; especially my father, Percy, and Chiron.
I forced the blade back into my unwilling flesh once more and slowly, millimetre by millimetre, dragged it across my thigh.
The familiar sting washed away all of my anguish once again. The soft sound of skin being ripped and sliced by the uneven blade was amplified by my tunnel-vision and the silence that my cabin afforded me.
Blood started to slowly fill the narrow trench I had made and overflowed.
It was so warm; washing over my skin and warming me to the bone.
I never wanted this feeling to leave me. It was all I had.
I brought the blade down once more, feeling it puncture my pale skin, but before I could go any further I heard the sound of the conch horn echoing throughout the camp signalling dinner. Although what followed the deep bellow of the horn chilled me to my very core.
"Nico?" a male's voice rang out, followed by a sharp knocking on the door.
"Nico, its dinner." I held my breath, not trusting myself to make a noise.
"C'mon man, you promised you'd actually come to dinner today, remember?" His question was once again met with silence, but instead of leaving like I had hoped, he opened to door and entered my sanctuary.
"Nico? Nic… oh, my gods."