When you wake up in the morning you avoid making eye contact with the mirror. In the mirror holds your image what you have become; a heartless murder who will never know justice. You become the definition of a public enemy and yet you are considered one of the heroes.

You remember stabbing him in the heart. You knew it would kill him. You knew the other places that wouldn't kill him but you stabbed the heart. You killed him because he wasn't on your side. The knife stood lodged in his heart and it would always be your fault. You hated yourself for doing it, but he provoked you. He was the one that initiated the fight but you ended it in death. You killed the man you were in love with because his beliefs were different.

Once you realized what happened time stopped and you feel numb. The only person that was meant for you was dead by your knife. It wasn't like killing monsters who would always return. You took away a person's life. Stopped their heart and let them bleed out. They would never hold your hand or kiss your lips because you killed them. You took a life that was never yours to take.

When the shock of what happened fades away and, you realize that flight is essential if you want to live. You don't know if you want to live anymore. Your life had a knife in their body. So you walk away because you can't stand to look at what you've done.

You recognize the faces of emotionless corpses of the people you know. Some of them were your family but it doesn't matter anymore. The only person you want to see you will never. You cringe as you see your best friend lying in the ashes of a smoldered building. She is lucky, right beside is her boyfriend dead by someone's arrow. You wish that was you and your lost love. That way you wouldn't be a murderer and could have truly died in his arms.

On Olympus everyone is cheerful and bright. After all your side won, the gods will still rule the universe. That doesn't make you smile. The grief inside your chest feels as though the titans won. You will never be happy about this day. You won't ever celebrate the outcome of the war because it changed you and took everything you ever loved. Still everyone else partied on.

At camp they burn the shrouds. When the burn his you can't even force yourself to say a few words about him. If you professed your love, what would it do? You would have to talk about the cause of death and that was you. You could say how much you'll miss him but, you're the reason you'll miss him.

After everyone is cheerful again; once more celebrating the victory. You see how splendid the campers act when they rejoice over Percy and Annabeth finally get together. You don't. You secretly hate them for getting a happy ending.

You hate Percy for being born. The war was his entire fault. If he hadn't been born, than you wouldn't have become a murderer and killed him. Percy got the good life. He fought in the war and never killed a single soul. That wasn't fair. How can the single person responsible for the war come out of the battle with clean hands, when you never wanted anything thing to do with it and you took your lover's life.

You have utter revulsion for Annabeth because she has everything. She's smart, pretty, and got the guy. For years and years she waltzed around proclaiming her love for Luke and then she suddenly stops. She could have had either guy, and you couldn't even have one guy. It was her knife in Luke but she never put it there, unlike you. You put the knife in you love. Like Percy her hands had no one's blood, and she supported the war.

They call you a hero for fighting in the war. You know what you are. You're the villain in the story because villains are the evil ones who kill. Read any fairytale and you'll always find that you have the most in common with the bad guy. It's because in his story you were the antagonist. You know you were no hero. Heroes don't kill. No one ever wants to hear the story about the hero that murdered her boyfriend.

No matter how many years pass, you still think about him. You still need him but he'll never be there. In the dreams you had about him, he never mentions you. You assume that's your punishment. Even if living without him for who knows how many isn't enough torment.

It doesn't matter how many times you scream at yourself or throw various glass products at walls or impale your sword into the earth. He will always be gone, and you will never get over him. You will never forgive yourself for what you've done, even if he'd forgive you.

You pray that whatever remains of Kronos will come back and destroy the gods. If it was the cause he fought for you would join. You finally understood why he felt the need to betray them; you fought for them and it destroyed your life. Why not destroy theirs? Nevertheless it's not them your mad at; it's yourself because you never fought for him to stay and you let him go so far that you were forced to die or execute him. Still his blood was on your hands forever and always.

When you think about death you feel you deserve the Fields of Punishment or Tartarus. You shouldn't be rewarded for what you've done. Homicide is a felony; you should be in jail right now. You should be forced in chains and made a slave of evil. You know whatever you do to punish yourself it will never be enough.

At the end of the day you look in the mirror you see the heartless murderer who will never know justice. However you know that you haven't become that but it was always a part of you; it just shows more brightly now that the deed is done.

A/N: Constructive criticism is treated as praise. Flames are expected with the Percabeth bashing.