I keep going to the river to pray,
'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain,
And at most, I'm sleeping all these demons away,
'Cause your ghost, the ghost of you it keeps me awake.
Ghost by Ella Henderson.
The moment the spear pierced his body was the moment Annabeth froze, paralysed, unmoving in the middle of a battle. Everything stood still. Her eyes still held the fire of the warrior she was as she walked, silently, straight through the middle of the fight to his bleeding form. Nothing moved. Swords clattered to the ground. The air was hushed.
Annabeth stroked his face gently with her hand, her body shaking, tears slowly falling, yet her face still a mask. Her eyes were the giveaway. They were broken.
"Annabeth…" he rasped.
"Sh, everything's gonna be okay…"
"Dying…"
"Elysium, honey."
"I'll wait for you…"
"Oh…"
"Remember what I said?"
At his words, Annabeth slowly drew her knife, her arm trembling. He nodded as she drew it closer to his weak body. Then, as she plunged the knife into him, a loud, high-pitched sob erupted from her.
As he lay there dying, in the middle of the battlefield, she lay down next to him, tears streaming, holding his hand.
"Elysium," She said softly.
"Elysium," He agreed. His eyes rested on Annabeth's face.
"I want to die looking at something beautiful." He murmured. His eyes grew starry and misty, and with one final breath, he was gone.
For hours afterwards, Annabeth was still lying next to him, still holding his hand, still stroking the side of his face, even though everyone had witnessed it.
Percy Jackson was dead.
A tall blonde woman, cradling a baby in her arms, was sat quietly by the river. The baby knew not to cry or to whine. It knew this was important. His mama went there every day, and she'd sit, her eyes closed, her toes touching the edge of the water. He knew this place was special to her. She never cried, she'd just sit, in silence, staring across the water. Sometimes she'd sit for hours, alone, just staring ahead. She was thinking hard. Sometimes, she'd be traditional, her hands together, her head bowed, mouth unspoken words. A prayer.
Then she'd edge her feet further into the water and dip in her arms too, then she'd cup some water to spread across her face. For a moment, for a slight second, a smile would enter her face, but as soon as it had come it was gone.
At night, she'd toss and turn fitfully, sometimes screaming, waking up in a cold, horrid sweat. Her heart would always beat rapidly as she hyperventilated; gasping and wheezing from the shock she woke up to every morning. It would never change. The demons were haunting her, and sleeping was the only escape. Until they took control.
All she could ever think of was him. His smile, his eyes, his laugh, the way he used to squeeze her after not seeing her, little forehead kisses, play fights, all the happier memories. But as the sky darkened, so did she. Her mind turned to his last words, the blood soaking his t-shirt, him asking to be stabbed…
The ghost of him was keeping her awake.
