winter song - sara bareilles and ingrid michaelson
i wrote this in 12 minutes
December never felt so wrong
'Cause you're not where you belong
Inside my arms
The snow falling, everyone's happy attitude, decorations, presents. December 25th is Christmas to everyone else.
But to her, it's just another day without him.
She doesn't leave her otherwise vacant cabin. She doesn't go to visit the other campers or Sally or her family. She'll go through the motions later, but she doesn't feel up to it.
A small photo in her hands. It's one she took of him herself. She whispers to it like it's alive. Maybe if she does, the memories will jump right out of the photo. Maybe he'll appear the same way he disappeared: out of thin air.
"I wish you were here."
"You have no idea how much I miss you."
"It's Christmas, you know."
She sniffs. Sets the photo carefully down on an empty bed and paces the cabin. Grabbing at the sides of her head, her breath quickens and she struggles to hold back tears.
December feels wrong.
Christmas feels wrong.
She feels wrong.
He should be here, with her, celebrating and exchanging gifts and kissing and teasing and holding hands. It's scary without him. Camp doesn't feel like camp anymore. Annabeth doesn't feel like Annabeth anymore.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, she thinks.
When she lets herself dwell on his absence like this, her mind gets out of control.
What if he's hurt what if he'll never come back what if there is no other camp what if this is all a trick what if he's in danger what if he doesn't remember me what if he's dead what if what if what if what if
She falls to her knees.
He should be here.
She hugs her torso and collapses further onto the ground.
Safe.
A sob breaks through her lips.
With me.
She hiccups.
But he's gone.
She throws herself onto her back.
Always gone.