Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or any of the characters.
She gets back to her room alone and locks the door after dinner. Holding her breath in the dark, she listens to her brothers lisping and laughing and running around in the living room, tripping over the toys scattered in the floor, then getting rebuked by their mother.
It's like she is inside a cage, watching silently at this happy family through gratings. And those people have nothing to do with her.
She doesn't have many things. After only twenty minutes, she has already stuffed several pieces of clothes, a small teddy bear, two packs of potato chips and all of the cash in her piggy bank—thirty-eight dollars and seventy-five cents in total—into her backpack. During the next two hours, she just sits there, listening to the wind, the ticking of the clock, and the noise of joy downstairs.
Nine o'clock, the twins are put to bed. Her father is still working in his study, and her stepmom is busy in the laundry room. Annabeth doesn't hesitate—actually she has already been hesitating for two hours, but well—before she throws her backpack on, and unlocks the door.
It only takes a few steps from her room to the front door. Yet she walks slowly, careful not to make any sound. The light in the living room is still on. There is some reality show playing on the TV, a pot of soup is being boiled on the stove; she can hear the washing machine growling ceaselessly in the next room, along with her stepmother's giggling, probably on the phone with a friend.
Those are all so far away from her.
Annabeth Chase runs away from home on a summer night. She turns back at the crossing to look at the house she's been living inside for years. It stands there calmly, with warm, yellow light slipping out through the crack of the curtains. Nothing has changed, except for her.
"Thalia!"
"Come on, Annabeth!" Luke grabs her arm, pulling her to the direction of that so-called Camp Half-Blood.
"No!" Annabeth cries, trying to get rid of his grasp. "We have to help her! We have to—"
"I know! Annabeth, I know." Luke holds down her shoulders with both hands, forcing her to face him. She sees sorrow and craziness on his mudded face, matching her own. His blue eyes are wide and full of tears. "But we need to keep going." He looks at her dead in the eyes. "We need to trust Thalia. She'll be okay."
"Go!" Grover stumbles from behind. "They're coming! The camp is nearby, I promise—come on, Go!"
Annabeth can't do anything but letting Luke hold her hand and race forward, pulling her along. Mud gets crunched under her feet, the wind blows over her face mercilessly and the leaves rustle and rustles and rustles, so loud that it's like thousands of husky voices singing together. In a frantic chaos, she seems to hear someone screaming.
...No, someone is screaming.
Annabeth stops abruptly, with Luke also stumbles to a stop beside her. The screaming sound is clearer now, yet she'd rather it be vague.
She hears large, large agony and fear, sharp like a blade, piercing through her heart. After the first scream there it comes the second, the third becomes lower, weaker, and the forth never comes. The silence is worse. All the hope is gone. It's like her throat has been compressed to a thin tunnel, and the air grows thorns, scraping through her nasal cavity. Luke grabs her hand so tight that it hurts. She can hear his heavy breath accompanying hers, echoing under the entire sky.
"Oh gods," Grover moans, "no..."
"Go," Luke says through gritted teeth. "We must... we must go somewhere safe."
He also sounds about to break down. Annabeth doesn't say a word, instead, she follows his steps, running for her life in a world full of silence, and noise, and noise and silence and noise.
The next morning, she sees a pine tree on the hill through the window of Big House.
It stands alone.
Nothing can be changed now. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't...
"Please, Annabeth," Luke says. He is leaning on the door frame, face hidden in the shadow. He looks vulnerable and pathetic. But she knows better than to fall for it."
"You don't understand. You don't know what he's going to do to me..." Luke keeps pleading. "He wants to take over my body, and he will. The next time you see me, I probably won't be me anymore."
Annabeth sighs, and manages to keep her tone cold. "So? Why are you here?"
Something flashes through Luke's eyes. It can be hope, or it can be the omen of a trick. "Let's run away together." He says. "Just like old times. You and me, against the entire world."
"There was Thalia, too."
"Thalia..." Luke narrows his eyes. "Well, she's changed. She really wants to kill me. She is not the same—"
"No," Annabeth interrupts him, "Thalia is the same old Thalia. She always has been. It's you... It's us that have changed."
Luke looks down and says nothing.
"How did we become... this?" She mutters. "Why, Luke? Why do you think that after you've betrayed me and tricked me and hurt me, you can still come back like nothing's happened, and tell me that we can be 'just like old times'? And you know what, we can't. We can't, and guess whose fault that is."
Luke raises his eyes and gives a humorless chuckle. "It's because of him, isn't it?"
"Who?"
"You know who I'm referring to." Luke hisses. "That boy has no idea what he's doing, I'm telling you. Don't be stupid. Do you really think that he is some big hero just because he has saved you for a few times? Do you really think he'll be on your side forever? He'll just be like anybody else. Nothing is permanent, Annabeth, nothing—"
"Shut up," Annabeth says. "Get out."
Luke glares at her. "Are you serious? We've known each other for seven years, Annabeth. Seven. Years. And you're letting some stupid crush of yours come between us? I swear that one day he'll get himself killed, and somehow get you involved—"
"Shut up," Annabeth repeats. "Stop. Please, just..." her voice cracks, "leave, okay?"
He stares at her. She stares back.
Luke Castellan turns around and walks away. He is slightly humped, arms hanging loosely at the side. He totters alone, as if he is an old man who's walking toward his destined death after spending his whole life rushing around for something he doesn't believe at all.
Annabeth feels like a part of her is departing along with him.
Cabin Three is empty—for like maybe thirty days.
The worst part is that it looks like Percy is still living in there. The bed is unmade, piles of clothes are scattered on the floor, and there's a half pack of Oreo on the desk. She takes one, and it tastes terrible.
She remembers cracking another cookie in half inside of a moving truck. Things are always better in the past.
It's snowing outside, but Camp always stays warm. She seats next to the window, it has a perfect view of the sea. She sees pure blue, yet it doesn't really look like water under the winter sky, but more of moving ice, floating toward somewhere far, far away. Maybe the waves would lead to the west coast, to San Francisco. And if she could get in a boat, traveling along with the water—
There's a knock on the door, then Piper's voice rings on the other side. "Annabeth, are you in there? Leo's looking for you." She shouts through the door. "Apparently there's something wrong with Argo II."
"Coming!" Annabeth stands up, turning away from the window.
The sea rocks behind her.
"You know, I've never actually forgotten you." The black-haired boy winks at her. "I remembered you when I literally remembered nothing else. Well, your name actually."
"Oh really?" Annabeth raises a brow. "So you didn't go and flirt with some pretty girl in Camp Jupiter huh?"
"You are way prettier than them alright." He puts his arm around her shoulder. "And if I really did that, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead by now."
"Well you're lucky to remember who I am." She leans into his touch comfortably.
"It has nothing to do with luck." He shrugs. "I mean, I'll always remember you. It's like, a principle of the world, the first law of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase."
"Wow. 'Principle' sounds weird coming from you."
He bumps her shoulder jokingly, and she bumps back. And everything is like before.
Annabeth raises her head, and she sees actual, real ocean in Percy's eyes. The waves jump up and down ceaselessly; the light behind the curtains, the lonely pine tree, Luke's humped figure, and the cold sea water all get swallowed inside, then disappear completely.
My grand plan is that I will be remembered.