Hello! So this is a pretty sad Percabeth one-shot. Suicide and torture so don read if you can't handle it. It's not graphic, but I hope that it is sad… that was kinda the goal. It was not originally supposed to be a suicide thing, but I got here somehow.

For those of you who have read my other stuff, I will have Surprises at Goode up soon because it is almost done… then I'll try to get up Praying to Mommy fast after that… well see how long it takes.

To those who have considered or who are considering suicide, just know that there are people who care, no matter what the circumstances. Also remember how much worse Annabeth's situation is in this and that she held on for this long, I'm sure you can as well.

To those who have lost someone you care about to suicide; this one is for you guys! :')

I don't own PJO

Annabeth POV

Keeping sane is the hardest thing I think. But no matter how insane I get, I always think of Percy and I am brought back from the depths of insanity. World war 3 has been hard. And despite it all, the United States was on the losing side this time. I suppose we had to lose sometime right? The big difference I think between this and World War 2 is that all of the demigods and major Olympians were together. The gods were sent to Tartarus and I along with many others was sent… here. To this Hades hole. I, being one of the keys of the Gods' army got a solitary cell. I know high class right? Well, this room was the size of a broom closet and being held in solitary meant that I was stuck being the "demonstration" of all of the new torture methods that they discovered.

I have so many bruises, so many burns, and so many cuts. I can't even keep track of all of them all. They have done… awful things to me. Things I don't want to talk about. And to think the war started because a Hermes kid let lose to a mortal about the whole demigod business. Stupid Hermes.

Long war in 2 sentences: Some countries got mad at the US because we had God's and they did not. We lost and I landed here. I have not had a bath in 2 years. I only get a slice of moldy bread and a pear on a good day to live on, sometimes less. My body looks like all those pictures of holocaust victims that you see, where their stomachs are only like an inch wide and you can count their ribs.

Percy got away somehow. I don't know how he did it, but I know he isn't dead yet. If he had died, the people in here would tell me immediately, to rub it in my face that the war was officially OVER. There was no resistance without Percy Jackson to lead the troops. And without Percy… who would I be? I am nothing without him.

I used to think that one day my knight in shining armor would come to rescue me, but after so long I have given up hope. I'm sure he is looking for me though. He loves me. Right? I think he does, and I know I love him. So we can be together in mutual lovingness. That is, if he finds us.

They are coming for me again… I can hear their footsteps coming down the hall and I think it is time. I don't think I can do this anymore. Maybe I have gone insane. Maybe not. Who am I to judge my own sanity? After all, if I were insane, I probably would not acknowledge it anyway. I would go around, happy as can be, not knowing that my mind had completely fallen. I take the rock that I had been sharpening into my hand and rubbed my finger lightly across it. A satisfying line of blood comes where I draw it and I bring it to my heart.

I hear cries outside of my cell. I assume that they are cries of pain, but why so many? Usually they just torture one or two at a time. Oh well, I guess I will never know right?

Percy's POV

I hurry down the hallway, opening doors as I go. I see my friends sitting there, eyes sunken, bodies almost skeleton, but their faces brighten when they see me. They come out of the shadows and unsteadily follow me down the hall. It was horrible, yet oddly fulfilling that I was freeing all of these people.

Finally we got to the last door on the hallway and I prayed to all the gods that this would be the door with her in it. And, I suppose they answered my prayers, but not in the way that I had hoped. No, not at all.

What I saw was the beautiful Annabeth Chase Jackson, (we were married 2 months before the war began) hair in a beautiful halo about her head, blood flowing freely form the hole in her chest. In her hand she held the weapon that killed her.

Gathered behind me, a few of the people sobbed as I just stood there, staring at the love of my life who had taken her own.

My knees gave out and I fell to the ground, I never felt so alone in my entire life.

But I am not alone I guess. I have all of the wonderful people behind me, and they need help. The gods know that they need help. And I cannot leave them without that.

I pick up Annabeth's body, her blood seeping onto my shirt, and turned towards the crowd of people behind me. And we left the prison behind so that we could win the war.

Sniffle…. I know, still needs some work… I might revisit this later on, but I want to get back to my other stories now… I love you guys!

R+r

-toe