A/N I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Or the HoH.
Thinking back, all he could remember were depictions of dark and dreary days, what felt like years. Almost like it happened to someone else.
He never really thought about it much; even if he could, the thoughts were always followed by brain-splitting headaches and eye-searing pains. A steady throb behind his eyes that didn't go away for hours. That never happened back in Tartarus, over there the thoughts were expected, considered normal. Everything about that place was twisted. Tartarus breathed and consumed like it was a living thing. Sometimes he would feel a exhale right behind his ear and he would look over his shoulder to find nothing. Other times he would see red, dots of them in random places, but he always assumed they were the creepy bats that seemed to be everywhere. The fact is, he never wanted to find out if it actually was.
But over here, in the real world, it's like the memories are so painful that they can't even exist. Perhaps that was why they were so fumbled, like a dark image was covering an even darker image, throwing some diversions like the headaches.
But they couldn't take away his memory. No. The one time he would have allowed it, it wasn't possible. Even with the aching and vomiting, the thoughts were still there, waiting distantly in the back of his mind.
And Percy was resentful of that.