Heaven Looks A Little Different

by Fangirl Shrieks

Told through the perspective of Annabeth Chase: a 22-year-old young woman who's been in a nearly fatal car crash, she describes Heaven, believing she is dead. She recounts the mistakes of her past while trying to figure out the answer to a question she doesn't even know she's been asking herself, all as she discovers who she is. However, Heaven looks different to everyone. Oneshot.

A/N: I don't usually dedicate my stories (because I don't feel like they're special enough to have dedications), but I don't know- it just felt right for this one. This is for the people who are everything I will never be able to become.

This is for the dreamers, the optimists, those who dare to hope, the ones who believe in Something with a capital S after life ends. (Yes, that definitely a The Fault In Our Stars reference. Though TFIOS isn't even close to my favorite John Green novel, I thought it suited the situation.) I don't have any advice for you. No 'never give up's, no 'always hope and dream's, no cheesy one-liners, no annoyingly catchy Journey lyrics that we all share a love-hate relationship with. (~Don't stop believin'~) I just want you to know, you're special. Thank you for being you.

Sincerely,

All my fellow self-deprecating pessimists and myself, who get annoyed with your positive selves from time to time, but know deep down that you make life easier.

Disclaimer In Order Not to Be Sued: No copyright infringement intended; just another fangirl writing for pleasure. I do not own the rights to Percy Jackson and the rest of the franchise, those rights belong to Rick Riordan, nor do I own the rights to Wendy Mass' lovely book: "Heaven Looks A Lot Like The Mall", which gave me the idea for this story. (I kind of made my own version of it except with Percabeth. And mine is not really in a poetry style like hers.)

Disclaimer For My Wonderful Readers: Contains enough sarcasm to choke a horse. (Also, language and mature themes but no explicit scenes, no worries.) Btw, Annabeth might be slightly OOC. I had to add some things to her personality to make the plot make more sense. And somehow, I think this makes her more human, displaying her mistakes/typical bad choices that teenagers can make. Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes in my writing. I don't use Betas and I changed this story's POV and tenses a few different times once I'd finished writing it because I wasn't satisfied with the way it was in the beginning, so there might some issues like 'I is' instead of 'I am' that I may have overlooked and therefore not fixed.

Enough of my rambling! Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

---

I turn the corner, driving down New York City streets, tapping the wheel impatiently, my eyes straining to see in the dark. But then I see it all, and this time I see too much. I don't even have the time to feel horrified, and adrenaline is one hell of a drug. I am blinded by the yellow lights, the screech of tires echoing terribly in my mind. I am well aware of the roaring sirens, flashing lights, ambulances, whatever, but all I can notice is how it seemingly happens in slow motion.

I slide forward against my own will, breaking through the now shattered glass, my car's front metal structure crumpling like delicate aluminum foil. The world is on fire, and I see only a white light. I'm pretty sure I'm dying, and it hurts, it hurts so bad; I don't think I've felt a pain like this ever, not in my entire twenty-two years of life. All I can focus on is the pain, the mind-numbing, breath-stealing pain. I can't help but think this is how it ends, my body sprawled helplessly as the vehicle under myself crushes me, another car slamming into me head-on.

Somehow, I feel like this isn't happening to me. I feel like I'm standing out on the edge of the street, watching both vehicles collide with a sickening crunch. I see it happen, I know it's happening. I see that driver coming into my lane; it's dark outside, they must not be able to see very well either. And with the rain beating down on our cars relentlessly, it's only harder to view the road clearly. But I know I see the car coming, I can practically see myself thinking that I'm going to run into the other person if I don't move.

So I don't know why I don't swerve out of the way. Why aren't I moving out of the way? I see the car coming, but for some reason, I just keep driving forward.

I remember how I always plead for something exciting to happen, disrupting my mundane days, and I darkly think to myself I certainly did get what I'd wished for. My face feels wet, and I'm not surprised when I realize it's probably my own blood. My ears are buzzing and I see people, now blurs of movement, rushing over to me as I'm gasping for breath. The sirens are getting louder, coming closer, but it feels too late to me, I've never been an optimist. Another one of those blurs are hovering over me, telling me not to move, telling me not to close my eyes, to stay with them. I don't even know who the blur is, but I want to fight so bad, I really do, but my eyes feel tired, my eyelids heavy. I want to just shut my eyes and relax, but as much as I joke, I realize I don't want to die, I really don't, but I'm not afraid of death. I accept the situation, but I don't understand why. The temptation is too much and the burning sensation behind my eyelids just increases, so my orbs slowly lose vision, blurring with tears, probably of pain, as my eyes flutter shut against my will. I can't help it.

And then it all goes black.

•

When I close my eyes, I don't expect anything spectacular to happen. I've never been a dreamer when I sleep, in fact I don't even remember the last time I dreamed at all. Perhaps fifteen years ago, back when I was seven years old and still naive? I'm twenty-two now and I suppose I'll never know, or even remember what I dreamed of back then; I have never been the type to share my thoughts, whether the thoughts were conjured up by my conscious or unconscious self.

But when I close my eyes, it suddenly feels different, like I'm falling asleep and I'm about to dive into a dream. That doesn't make sense, I know. I'm sprawled in a car right now, probably dying. I see a light as my mind blocks out all that's happening around me. For a second, I'm thinking I'm dead already. As the light increases, I realize I've always been an Atheist (I believe in only science and what I can see with my very own eyes) and I've never thought too much about the afterlife. I briefly wonders if there's an afterlife, where do Atheists go?

As the light fades, leaving me in my new surroundings, it occurs to me that it doesn't hurt to be dead. Somehow, I'm relieved. And then it's hits me, as it all clears, leaving me in the place I least expected. It's Heaven, I realize with a jolt of surprise; I'm in Heaven. And the thing you might not know, the thing that might surprise you the most is that in the right light, Heaven looks a lot like a temple.

•

Light envelopes me and I can confirm that I'm a little more than surprised when I see what's standing tall and proud in front of me, a structure so familiar; it brings back so much nostalgia. I stand, a little shell-shocked, in front of the Temple of Segesta in Segesta, Sicily. The piles and piles of architecture-related information I've soaked up like a sponge from books, magazines, and websites suddenly flood my senses. It's always been my dream to visit Segesta, Sicily, not only for the amazing culture, but for the temple. I guess, after spending so much time researching and devoting my efforts to the structure, it's only fitting that I spend the rest of eternity here.

I think of all the times I've rolled my eyes at the people around me. Oh, you're into architecture? What's your favorite style? I remember their patronizing smiles like it was yesterday as they peered down upon my ten year old self. "I like all architecture," I always babbled, "but right now I like Greek architecture."

They would smile down at me, laugh lightly with the fellow adults towering over me, speaking of how adorable little me and my rambling was, and wow, Frederick, she's going to be a little genius, she will. Followed by polite laughter, always. So you like the Parthenon, huh sweetie? Yes I like the Parthenon, the Parthenon is beautiful, the Parthenon is a huge part of ancient Greek architecture and Greek culture in general. But the Parthenon isn't the best, and I couldn't waste my time worrying and concerning myself over things that weren't the best. Because how could I be the best if I didn't spend my valuable time analyzing the best and only the best?

"Actually, the Parthenon isn't that awesome. The Temple of Segesta in Sicily is one of the most preserved temples in Ancient Greece, to this day. It was made in 424 B.C. It's a Doric temple built in the late 5th century and it is also unusual for being a Hellenic temple because it's located in a city that was not mostly populated by Greeks. It lacks a cella and doesn't have a roof over it, but it's mostly intact- it's absolutely incredible."

Followed by more laughs, laughs that haunted me well into my high school experience, and truthfully only disappeared once I was well into my college experience. Offended by their amusement and grownup-ness- I know that isn't a word but I have no other way to describe it- I narrowed my eyes and pointed my chin up to the sky. "Someday I will build something permanent." Someday I would show them all.

But it was followed by "That's enough, Annabeth," because I was too much, all the time and, "Annabeth you need to control yourself. You shouldn't be talking to your elders that way."

However, now I brush away their mocking and derisive tones, because no they will not, cannot ruin this moment.

I still suddenly, looking down at myself and I'm suddenly acutely aware that I look different. My eyes pass over my oddly shimmering tan arms, because I'm pretty sure I didn't shimmer when I was alive, I'm not a rainbow video game glitch. My blonde curls sit on my head perfectly, no frizz, it's unrealistic and strange and so I snap out of whatever hope was growing inside me. I don't carry this type of hope in me, not anymore. I know I will never build something permanent, I know it's a one in a million chance, and I know that this dream is giving me all this false hope all of a sudden for something I know will never come true. Especially now that I'm dead.

It feels real still, when I'm not peering at myself with razor, hawk eyes and criticizing all that isn't real. Heaven feels like real life. The once white pillars of marble are crumbly and old, but to me they are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen with the sun shining its light, the temple basking in the golden warmth, a soft, delicate yellow glow cast upon the structure. I'm content, even if I'm well aware it's Heaven, not real life, to sit there and contemplate what those pillars, what that marble would say if it could speak, because I know that it must have seen and heard, and experienced some pretty crazy things. I wonder, absentmindedly, why I'm suddenly seeing this. Aren't you supposed to meet your passed away loved ones here? The fish my Dad had said was in a better place but I knew had died, my passed grandfather, my aunt? Aren't they supposed to be here, what is this?

But I decide there is no logic behind this and I don't want to mar this experience with my relentless big brain. I decide to soak it up, the glow of the sun, and the crowd-less attraction, its solitude and glory. I am fulfilled, well... as much as I'll ever be, I have a tendency to never be satisfied, always getting in my own way, but this is enough even if it's just for now. A glint of shimmery light sparkles in the center of the temple where there is a dark, wooden table. I'm pretty sure the table wasn't there when I arrived. I walk towards it, my curiosity getting the best of me. Quickly, I read it.

Annabeth Chase,

Welcome to the temple of Heaven! Hang on tight for the ride of your life.

There isn't a signature, so I just assume it's God or something. I don't know. It kind of freaks me out that I don't know anything around me, but I'm determined to soak up all the knowledge. Even in death, I want to know it all. Go figure. (I was kind of hoping that the weird knowledge-related obsession of mine would pass along with me, but to no avail.)

All of a sudden, it starts to make sense. This place is so custom to me and designed to make me comfortable.

So I wonder, if to someone else, Heaven looks a lot like a bowling alley, a farm, or a mall.

•

Once I read the letter, the table is replaced by a vanity, with a nice little cream-colored sink, orange-scented soap (my favorite scent) and a glossy mirror. I look into the mirror and immediately feel sick.

I have dried blood crusted all over my hairline, plus scars, bruises, and cuts lining my face. I thought Heaven would make me look prettier, but apparently not. Just another disappointment. I don't let it get to me.

I look like hell, which I suppose is kind of ironic considering where I am. It makes sense, though, to be looking so terrible. I did just experience what was supposed to be a traumatizing car crash, the crash that ended my life. I wash and wash my face, carefully trying not to hurt myself by harshly scrubbing my injuries. I hope these injuries fade eventually. When I see my relatives and everyone else, I don't want to look this horrible for the rest of eternity. Even though I understand why I look bad, I'm still horrified by my appearance (because as my step-mother always said, appearances are everything), and I am disgusted by myself.

I look hideous and my head's pounding.

I need to lie down.

•

I end up curling up on the dusty temple floor because while feeling so crappy, I'm not particularly choosy as to where I rest. I close my eyes and am blessed with my usual dreamless sleep.

When I wake up, I am greeted by some kind of beeping. My eyes adjust to the bright lights, still bleary and kind of watery. I wipe the crust out of my eyes, ready to chuck my shoe or something at whatever the fuck's beeping and disrupting my beauty sleep. Piper always used to say that beauty sleep was very important. Otherwise I always end up with lavender shadows underneath my steely grey eyes. I try to take in my surroundings before aiming and firing, because what if I hit like an angel or someone? I'd probably be in some deep shit with the big guy who I'm assuming controls Heaven.

Instead, I'm surprised when I see a heart monitor beeping. I'm in a hospital and I don't understand why I'm not more excited. I'm not dead; I should be rejoicing, but instead I feel rather indifferent. The whole thing was just some sort of crazy dream. Next to me, I see a blur of a brunette and I know, I just know it's Piper when I see those kaleidoscope eyes. My Dad's on my left, with his tired eyes. They look so sad and I want to comfort him, I want to tell him I'm not gone forever, I want to tell my Dad everything's okay, but I know it's not because everything hurts. Not to mention, in my experience, everything's not usually okay anyways. It's a dull throbbing, not like when I was dying in my car, but the physical pain doesn't even begin to compare to the tears streaming down Piper's face.

I try to talk, but I can't. Also, the various big medical equipment hooked up to me are severely uncomfortable. Through my hazy vision, I see my father talking to a man in a big white coat, some doctor probably. I pick out a few terms. "Medically induced coma", "trying our best", "injuries." Even though I'm extremely tired, I can't help but figure it out in my head. So I'm in a coma and I'm not really dead. That's what that crazy dream was all about.

I really want to tell Piper, someone, anyone all about that wild adventure, but again, I can't really talk. My hazy vision clears and suddenly I'm no longer looking up at my best friend, but at the white, creamy, crumbly columns again. There's a huge gate in front of me now and it's leading to some white light, which I'm assuming is the main portion of Heaven. But why am I back here? I thought I was in the hospital?

I decide it's time to take some action and sort out all this confusion.

•

I walk through the gates and am momentarily blinded by the light once more (how much is this going to happen?) I think I should tell God that he needs to tone down the LED lights, because number one, he's probably wasting so much electricity, and because I can't fucking see half the time. Though I'm sure, He, She, whoever's in control here would not take too kindly to being told off like that.

As the light dies down, I see a ton of people here. There's a lot of tourists here, and a huge crowd is surrounded around the Parthenon in particular. I can't help but roll my eyes; typical. Architecture from all over the world is here, next to each other. I see one building I have a hard time recognizing, and it has the largest crowd, so I'm assuming that's God's main headquarters. I try to shove my way forward, but everyone seems to ignore me. Not to mention, people are passing through me, a feeling that is very much freaking me out.

I panic, trying to get my way to the front, the whole situation getting to me. "Hello?! Can anyone hear me! Stop touching me! Please! Am I invisible or something?!" I scream.

"Duh," a voice says behind me. I whirl around and look up warily to find a young man, probably around my age. He's cute with his raven dark black hair and beautiful bright sea green eyes, and I assume he's some sort of angel here to explain to me how Heaven works. Except for one thing. He has blood coating the entire left side of his hairline, and he looks sort of beaten up. He's still cute, but I can't help but wonder what the hell happened to him. Did he just come out of a cage match against Satan or something?

"What happened to you?" I ask in surprise.

"Doesn't matter," he says sighing, "this is your near death experience, not mine."

"So I'm having a near death experience? Is that what the hospital was all about? I'm really in the hospital and this all some sort of coma-induced dream?" I ask, inquiring and firing off rapid questions the way I am accustomed to doing.

He nods, and I just stare as another drop of blood rolls down the side of his face. He grimaces, wiping it away irritatedly, like drops of blood just randomly drip down his face all the time. Hell, for all I know, they do. I also wonder to myself if it's inappropriate to say 'hell' in Heaven.

"I'm Percy," he says immediately and I stare up at him. "Percy Jackson," he introduces himself.

"I'm Annabeth Chase," I introduce myself too, because what else am I supposed to do? Gawk at him?

"I know. It's pretty," is all he says, and I decide he's a strange guy, but since he's the only other person here besides me who's actually talking to me, I don't tell him that. I figure I'm going to need him if I'm ever going to figure out how to get to where the golden, pearly gates are, the harps, the deceased family and friends. At least... I'm assuming that's what Heaven looks like. I'm not really sure, but that's what I've always seen in movies, so here's to hoping. Harps can sound kind of pretty, after all.

"So," I begin, trying to strike up a conversation. "Why am I here and not with everyone else?"

"Everyone else?" he looks confused and my stomach does a flip flop. Green-eyed boy doesn't seem very bright, in my opinion.

I ignore it for the time being, and continue on interrogating him. "Is this Heaven or isn't it? Are you dead? I mean, you look pretty shitty, if I do say so myself." Percy stares at me some more, and I wonder if he's actually stupid once more.

"Thanks," he says sarcastically, snipping back at me for once. "And I'll explain it, let's go for a walk," he offers, gesturing around us to all the amazing architecture.

Now, I'm a pretty realistic, level-headed person. I know not to talk to strangers, and certainly not go off on walks with strange, bloodied-up boys, but the rules are kind of loose right now considering I'm in desperate need of answers. I decide I can probably whoop his ass in a fight, and follow him out into the chaos and crowds.

Percy walks at an easy pace and I can't help but feel slightly irritated because I usually walk fast and with purpose. I don't just wander aimlessly. "So are you dead?" I repeat my question as we walk.

"What?" he asks, not really paying attention.

"Are you DEAD!" I repeat, rolling my eyes. He hides a smile and I scowl. Percy shakes his head, but offers no further explanation, pissing me off. "So where are we going?" I ask next, not quite happy with the prospect of just following him around.

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Past, here to teach me my lesson before it's too late? Or my guardian angel like Clarence for George Bailey in 'It's A Wonderful Life'?" I question, but he just laughs now and doesn't say anymore. I groan, this is going to be very, very frustrating.

Percy walks down a shady little alley way between the Shanghai Tower and the Burj Khalifa. I freeze in my motions, because no I'm stupid enough to go down a dark alleyway all by myself with some strange guy. "Where are you taking me?" I repeat again, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly.

"Here," Percy answers lightly, turning a door and walking in. I walk in after him, still wary, but choosing to follow, just this once. I half expect Pennywise to jump out and strangle me, but nothing happens and it's actually quite bright inside the store thing. (Seriously, the electrical at the end of each month must be absolutely wild.) It seems like a regular gift shop for tourists. I glance around the small, dusty area, but quickly catch up to Percy when I realize he's still walking to the back of the store and I'm losing him by standing around, gazing like a ditsy blonde. I am not a ditsy blonde.

He heads to the Lost and Found for careless tourists and I can't help but become curious. Why are we here of all places? A woman at the counter with blonde, fake, too blonde hair, rolls her eyes, bored. "Key?" she extends her hand, waiting impatiently. Percy looks at me expectantly, but I hold up my hands in surrender.

"Don't look at me, I don't have any key," I tell him, a bit sassily. Percy rolls his eyes, and reaches in my pocket. "Hey!" I protest as he grabs my car keys, much against my wishes or consent. "Give that back!" He ignores me and hands it to the lady, who unlocks a locker, gives him the key back, and produces a large white box. Percy takes the box and brings me over to a ripped up, old leather seat in the corner. He sets it down and sits down.

"So what is this?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the white box, snatching the keys back from him childishly and stuffing it safely in my pocket. He rolls his eyes once more and I am struck by how similar we are in some ways. I push the thought away, because fuck that. I don't want to be like him. But even if I'd never admit it out loud to him, it's kind of fun to banter with him. He is wittier than he lets on at first and smarter than he looks. You're probably thinking why I judge people by looks when I'm tired of everyone thinking of me as some dumb blonde. I've always figured it's because that's what my step-mother does and I just picked up the habit along the way.

"I figured you knew," Percy says lightly, "you seem like the type of girl who knows more than everyone else." It isn't meant to be a compliment, I can tell, but I strangely don't feel insulted by him. Percy, I think, is the type of guy who just likes to say things as they are, not really intending to make anyone feel anything with his words.

"Well I don't," I reply, carefully choosing my words now.

"Alright. It's a box," Percy reveals. I fight the urge to roll my eyes once more at Captain Obvious. "It's full of things of your childhood."

I stare at the puny white box and indulge myself by rolling my eyes this time. "I've had much more things growing up," I inform him. "Besides, I didn't have a childhood," I say, but there's no bitterness in my tone.

"Ah, but we've chosen the most important things."

"We?" I demand, looking at him and cocking one of my eyebrows higher than the other.

"The big guy, of course," Percy says as if it's obvious. I groan; figures. A man passes us with wings and my eyes widen in surprise. He must be an angel. The man is very pretty, of course, he's a freaking angel for God's sake. I wonder, absentmindedly, if it's okay to say 'God's sake' or 'Jesus Fucking Christ,' in Heaven. Or this dream of Heaven anyways. I decide I'll say whatever I like. Somehow, though, I still think Percy is better-looking despite the blood and even though he doesn't appear to be an angel of any sort and he doesn't have wings.

He doesn't seem to notice as I contemplate his face. Percy's handsome, I know that for sure. I know girls must fawn over him left and right, but he seems kind of oblivious or indifferent, and for some reason that only heightens his attractiveness, because he doesn't realize he's so beautiful. I always thought you can only call women beautiful, men are only handsome, but besides handsome, breathless, etc, the only word I finds fitting for him is beautiful. With his curly, dark lashes, wild hair, and bright eyes, he is very, very beautiful.

I thinks he looks sort of like a bad boy, though, and I wouldn't describe him as angel. Percy, to me, appears more like the devil that you shouldn't mess with, but you do anyways and he stomps all over your heart. He has that rugged, reckless, tousled look to him, and it intrigues me. As I peer at him, I don't realize when he looks back at me, his face uneasy and sort of uncomfortable, his lips twitching like he wants to say something. I suddenly realize with embarrassment that I'm staring at him. Flushing pink, I look away hastily and awkwardly. I feel like I'm drowning in embarrassment and mortification. I choose to break the awkwardness by digging through the box that is apparently mine.

I carefully reach inside and take out a few items. First, I take out a math textbook, which I put in my lap for the time being. Then I take out a silver quarter, a crayon drawing, a photograph, and a carefully folded dress. "Take a good look," he says and I scan the items in front of me.

I pick up the math textbook and hold it up, flipping through it. All my notes in the margins are scribbled in perfectly like they'd been when I'd thrown the book away years ago. It was my first high school textbook. I hug it to my chest, protective of it for some reason. "What's so important about all this stuff?" I ask Percy, confused by the items in front of me, things I haven't thought about in years, seen in years.

"You'll see," he says cryptically, putting the things back in the box and leaving me with the math textbook only. He picks up the box and walks back out of the store and into the main center, where all the architectural structures stand big and proud. I have to speed walk to keep up because now he's walking very fast, and with his long legs he's faster than me. Percy looks at my confused expression, and sympathetically speaks up. "The things in the box will help you determine why you're here-"

"I'm here because I got into a car crash," I interrupt him impatiently. He shakes his head.

"Not really. But you'll understand once you answer the Big Question you asked yourself in the first place."

"What question?" I have no idea what he's talking about. Percy ignores me, and I frown. He walks away, starting to disappear, and I panic, I can't help it. "Wait!" I call out desperately. I don't understand, why am I here? What question? What answer? My thirst for knowledge and the feeling of being lost is drowning me. "I don't understand!" I call once again, but Percy is long gone and I am alone. He's taken my box and left me alone with my math textbook, vanishing into thin air.

•

I try to follow him, go where he's gone, but the world keeps sucking me into the center, not allowing me to leave. I kind of want to cry (and I don't cry), I'm so frustrated. I fall hard onto the ground and the world goes black for the second time in the past twenty-four hours.

When I finally come to and look up, Percy is leaning over me.

"You're awake," he says in surprise. "Your machine was beeping," he explains himself, peering at me.

"Wait," I'm even more confused now. "What's the Big Question? Where's all my stuff, what's going on?" I turn my head, looking around me and all the architecture has disappeared. I am in a room under bright white lights, with white walls and big machinery. Percy is here too, but he is in blue pajamas and is looking at me curiously.

I'm not dead again. I think, I don't know, this is all too much. I close my eyes and lean my head against the pillow.

"Um, are you okay?" Percy asks. I shake my head no.

"Why are we back here now?"

"We? Well, I'm here because I nearly cracked my head open," he points to his bloody head and hairline. "And you're here because you got in a car accident, I think."

I open my eyes wide in surprise. "Wait, so we weren't just now in the middle of a bunch of architecture? You don't have my stuff in a small, white box?" He looks at me sort of worriedly, before shaking his head no.

"But... but," I stutter, "I know your name and stuff," I can't believe none of that really happened. I don't have a nearly good enough imagination for that.

He nods, as if it all makes sense. To me, it doesn't. "Well I spoke to you while you were out cold yesterday. But I don't know how much you heard, being in a coma and all," Percy explains. "Are you okay?" he inspects my face.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the million dollar question. "You wouldn't believe the crazy shit I just saw," I tell him.

Percy offers to listen to me tell him about it.

At first, I'm wary, but I end up telling him all about it because I'm bored and confused. He's a good listener and besides, he has that whole cute guy thing going for him. He doesn't give me any judgmental looks and he doesn't tell me I'm weird. I appreciate it. Maybe Percy's not so bad after all. And I'm not really mad at him anymore, considering the fact that he didn't actually just leave me in the middle of nowhere with a math textbook. (I love math. But I do not think algebra 2 would help me figure out where I am. At least, in my experience, hyperbolas, ellipses, trigonometry, and probability are not very useful when you are stranded alone.)

I ask about my parents and he says my step-mother and my two little brothers were here for a little while, but my father and my best friend Piper have stayed the entire time. A warmth spreads through my core, grateful for their presence. He tells me they'll probably come and check on me in a little while. He tells me Piper's pretty, which I'm not surprised at all to hear, because everyone thinks Piper is pretty. Of course, that's because she is but still. Percy tells me she was crying a lot though and I feel a little bad. He also tells me he saw a girl with electric blue eyes who scared him a little, but seemed pretty cool and I assume it's my other best friend Thalia. He says he talked to her for some time and she was actually pretty nice, though very worried.

"So what do you think?" I ask him, after retelling my insane dream.

Percy shrugs. "Do you know what you meant?" I inquire, knowing it's a long shot, but still worth a try.

He shakes his head. "How am I supposed to know? I'm stupid enough to nearly die in a pool." He's the captain of his college swim team and when he tells me how he nearly died, I can't help but smile, causing him to smile too. I decide I like him, even if he was stupid in my dream. He's still kind of stupid, I realize, but I think it's not nearly as annoying and more endearing and silly than plain stupid.

"What do you think Heaven would look like to you?" I ask him, curious. Percy thinks for a moment.

"I think it would look like Montauk beach in Long Island, New York," he tells me. I nod, pleased with his answer.

"And your five items?" I inquire, once again curious. He thinks once more, but for a couple minutes this time. I suppose it does take a moment to think of, considering he's also twenty-two like me (he told me earlier when telling me about why he's here in the hospital), and that's a lot of years to only choose five objects out of.

"A can of Narragansett Lager, a seashell, a knife, a box of bandaids, and blue food dye," Percy rattles off. I stare at him. That's a bunch of random stuff and I really didn't think he'd put so much thought into it. I smother down a small smile of mine and nod once more.

"What's that?" I point to the machine connected to the tube in me.

"Saline water," he explains, smiling a little mischievously. And then he pulls the plug.

I try to scream, but nothing comes out. It feels like one of those nightmares where you're free-falling forever, and you don't know how to stop, and it's terrifying, then before I know it, I'm back in Heaven.

•

And then I'm surprised for the nth time when the world swirls, sending me spiraling, getting sucked into a vortex of some sort.

I try to scream as the world blurs around me and Percy (he's back now, for some reason), but I can't let go of the textbook, and I'm falling, falling faster and faster. It's scary and as I flail ungracefully I see Percy's eyes widen in shock, as he leaps forward, reaching for me, not allowing me to get sucked in. Then I hear myself. It's as if I'm standing in a corner of the room, watching myself being pulled in. I'm screaming his name desperately pleading something from him, some stubborn portion of his soul is grounded to the ground, clutching at me just as desperately. He won't let me go, he simply won't. The thought calms me a little, but not by much gauging by my girly screaming. I hate that I'm screaming but I can't find a way to stop as the air only tugs on both of us harder, trying to suck us in.

He refuses. When it becomes apparent that I'm going to get sucked in one way or another because the current of air is getting stronger and stronger, Percy lets go.

But not of me. He doesn't know me, but I'm interesting and confusing to him and he's not letting me leave so easily. Percy lets his feet release off the ground as he flies into the vortex with me. My arms clutch the textbook in fear, and he's holding me, hugging me closely, both of us squeezing our eyes shut in fear as we fly into the unknown.

•

We crash into the ground, me landing first. I fall back, the textbook flying onto the vibrant green grass next to me. I groan, trying to sit up, when Percy lands. I accidentally knee him in the worst place imaginable for a guy, causing him to yelp loudly, and he lands accidentally on top of me. He's desperately trying to slow himself, to catch himself. Percy nearly crushes me, but he uses his incredible reflexes, splaying over me, his hands landing right next to my face, and his feet keeping him propped up next to my legs. He's an inch above my face, but he manages not to flatten me like those pancakes I refuse to eat for breakfast, knowing they'll just be a bunch of unnecessary calories and are too sugary.

I don't even have coffee with sugar, for God's sake. I get coffee in the morning, black, no sugar, no creamers, no nothing, because coffee is supposed to wake me up, it's not supposed to be a dessert. I don't need the extra unnecessary calories, the extra fat, because coffee by itself may protect me from conditions like obesity and lower levels of abnormal enzymes in my liver. I know that for a fact. I also don't understand why I'm thinking about coffee and flippin pancakes (pun intended), when Percy's nearly about to crush me.

Percy's face hovers over mine and he grits his teeth in pain, the sting of the blow to his manhood not unforgotten. "Ow," he mutters, looking at me pointedly, his breath on mine, our bodies uncomfortably close. He rolls off me, falling onto his back and groaning once more. I rub my elbow which landed awkwardly when I fell through whatever the hell that portal-like thing was. The grass softened my blow, but still, it'd hurt. I roll up to look at him and his eyes are closed, his breathing steady, his hands over his face.

"Sorry," I apologize immediately, despite my typically unyielding nature.

"It's okay," he murmurs, blinking rapidly a few times before sitting up himself. I still wince anyways when I hear the obviously pain-filled groan as he tries to stay sitting up. Eventually, Percy gives up and he falls back into the grass, shutting his eyes. "Man down," he declares, taking a sharp, deep breath.

I can't help but smile begrudgingly at his commentary. He's funny, I decide, and wittier than I'd thought at first. Plus he didn't let go of me. I blink, the realization sitting on my shoulders uncomfortably. He didn't let go. "Thank you," I hear myself say before I can think properly.

"What?" Percy asks, confused, as he manages to stand up, taking my outstretched, helpful hand.

"Thanks," I repeat myself, shoving down my huge pride. "For not letting go," I says, kind of embarrassed. I pick up my textbook so I don't have to look at him as I express my gratitude. "I thought I was going to die," I admit quietly. I wonder if I can die in Heaven. With my luck, I probably will.

Percy is quiet for a moment and it unsettles me, but when he speaks I somehow feels calmer. "I would never let you go that easily," he says softly, looking away as well, understanding how intimate his words are. He doesn't mean it like that; he doesn't even know me. It's not like he's in love with me, this isn't some cheesy Hallmark rom-com film. But he means it all the same, he means it like a friend. Whatever's happening to the both of us, we're in it together, he makes that clear. It's the sign of a friendship, I know, and it warms my heart for some reason. I just know that if Piper was here, she'd be squealing up and fainting at the sight of Percy's blood of course. Thalia would be maybe grumbling and groaning.

I look down at my shoes, grateful to have someone there with me. "Come on," I say, breaking the silence. "We're clearly here for a reason." I point to a familiar building in front of us. My high school. I have no idea why I'm here, but I'm determined to find out. Clutching the textbook to my chest, I lead him through the back garden door, the room that connects directly to my old math room.

Percy gazes at the clean brick building as he enters the building behind me after holding the door for me, like a gentleman. Not like I would ever admit that to him. "Was this your high school?" He scowls a little and I can't help but wonder if he held bad memories with this place. But I don't think I've ever seen him before today, so I figure it's just a problem he has with high school in general. I figure that if I wasn't so invested in high school, participating in nearly everything (I graduated as valedictorian), I would hold some resentment towards the atmosphere as well.

"Yes," is all I say, choosing not to entertain the stream of thousands of questions bound to escape his lips. It doesn't and I can't help but feel slightly relieved.

I turn the door handle to the math room, Percy taking in the school with a slight scowl on his face.

"Were you rich?" he asks, noticing the uniforms in the display cases and the lined up, endless trophies, along with the school which was in perfect condition. I choose not to answer, but Percy looks at me pointedly, still frowning slightly, after viewing the uniforms. I never bothered considering what Percy's childhood was like, but based off his distaste towards my school, I figure it wasn't very pleasant. I can relate. "Did you have a boyfriend?" Percy asks, thinking I was probably the all-around perfect, popular student. I chuckle darkly to myself; how wrong he is.

My lips press into an unyielding hard line at the last question. Percy decides not to pry any further.

We slip into my math room and I freeze because the class is in session. I immediately expect the teenagers to stare at me like I murdered someone as they always do when someone enters class tardy. But they don't. It's almost like they can't see me at all, a fact that I am relieved with somehow.

"They can't see us," Percy says, as if reading my mind. He steps forward to explore, but stops when he hears a strangled gasp from me behind him. "What?" he asks, worried he'd fucked up. "What happened?" He whirls to face me in panic, and sees me with my eyes wide in shock. "Annabeth?" I point frantically at a student behind him. Percy turns, confused, to see what I'd seen. I look as if I'd seen a ghost.

His eyes dart down to a student with a pencil to her temple, blonde curls, wearing a uniform, biting her lip in concentration, her steel grey eyes sharp and intelligent. "It's you," he breathes.

"I didn't think my former self would be here!" I exclaim in surprise as I approach my past self timidly. Percy looks between both of us and can't help but notice how similar we still are, though he thinks I've grown into myself a little more. Still, Percy thinks I was still pretty, even back then. And intimidating, as always.

I stare at my younger self with a half in-awe, half horrified expression on my face. "Huh," is all Percy says. "You even looked like a nerd back then."

"Huh?!" I repeat, staring at him, astounded at his lack of reaction while I was over here freaking out. I can't even find it in myself to be offended by his comment, I'm too close to losing my sanity. Maybe I already have. "You see my younger self, my clone, and all you have to say is huh?!" I feels like I might pass out because this is some weird shit, and I doesn't want to be here anymore, I want to go back to the temple or to the main Heaven, architecture area.

"You haven't aged a bit?" Percy says trying again, but it sounds more like a question. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, shrugging a little at a loss for words.

"Ugh!" I groan in frustration and exasperation, throwing my arms up in exasperation. "I'm not fishing for compliments, Percy!" I laugh a little, because the situation is so stupidly insane, I think I'm losing my mind.

Percy stares at me. He thinks I'm losing my mind a little too.

Suddenly, a student stands up and walks to sharpen his pencil, but he walks through me, and now I'm hyperventilating and Percy knows, he just knows I'm about to scream. He doesn't know me very well, but somehow he still feels like he's known my all his life and he knows I'm a realist, he knows this is too much for to handle because I'm so practical, always. He fucking knows I'm about to have a mental breakdown, so he briskly walks over to me, putting his arms around me, trying to talk to me, trying to calm me down. The bell rings, pulling me out of my freak-out and my younger self scrambles to pack up all her things, rushing to go home alongside all my other classmates. My plaid uniform skirt flounces as I walk, dodging and expertly weaving through my own classroom peers.

"Advanced class, Einstein?" Percy asks, letting go of my smaller frame, as he watches all the older students file out around young, tall but still smaller me. "They're all older than you."

I nod a little, as if in a daze. I clutch the textbook to my heart and follow after myself, Percy trailing me. Suddenly, I recoil, my face going pale and slack.

"Fuck," I curse, and Percy's surprised because even though he knows it's probably not my first time cussing because I look the same age as him- twenty-two - he still didn't expect that. "I know what's going to happen. I remember this," I sound so shaken, my eyes filled with uncertainty that Percy wants to hold me close to his chest and tell me everything's alright. But he doesn't because in his experience that's rarely been true.

I quicken my pace, a boiling feel of dread burning my skin. Percy speeds up too, keeping up with me, a sickening feeling churning in the pit of his stomach as well. Because he knows, he just knows that he's about to witness one of my most personal memories. And the green-eyed boy has no doubt that this very moment has kept me awake for countless nights, causing lavender shadows to appear under my usually sparkling grey eyes. He just knows that if I could go back in time, I'd change this moment, whatever it is. He knows I'm on the verge of cracking and Percy really doesn't want me to break because he's afraid I've never cracked before and when I do, the storm I unleash will consume everyone I've ever known, myself included. He just knows that my heart's about to break and he also knows that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Walk away!" I scream, bringing Percy back to reality (but is any of this reality?) I am screaming at my younger self. "Go left, you brain-dead moron! Don't you dare go right, don't you dare, Annabeth so help me!" Percy's seen some pretty weird things in his life but never has he seen a young woman yelling at her own younger woman-self. My chest is heaving, about to collapse, he can feel it, and he doesn't know what to do.

I sound like a maddened woman, which he's pretty sure I am, and he winces as I proceed to cuss myself out with some pretty colorful curses. My nails are digging so deeply into my own palm, I'm bleeding, but the pain brings me a sense of reality, a sense that things can change, and I fucking revel in the fact that I can feel something, anything at all. Percy wants to stop me from yelling at a ghost of the past, but he steps aside, knowing he can't change what's about to unfold- and neither can I. I know this is probably all for the Big Question, but I don't't really care. All I can focus on is little old me, walking down the cold, smooth-tiled floor.

I watch, helpless as my 16-year-old self takes a right. "No. No. Nononono," I am pleading now, fucking praying to no one and Percy's pretty sure I'm about to crumble to my feet. It doesn't matter because younger me takes the right, and she walks smiling to herself thinking about some boy, Percy knows that little high school girl is thinking about some boy, he can see it on my face. Little me runs into a senior. And the senior, he has blue eyes, really blue and a little scary, he has a twisted smile, but little me looks at him like he's the sun in a long, dark cave. And the senior, he has this wicked look in his eye that Percy really doesn't like, in fact Percy's blood is roaring in his ears because he doesn't like where this is going and he wants to deck this puny senior right where he stands, but he can't, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of him.

And the senior's name is Luke, Percy learns when little me opens my mouth, speaking to him so admirably, smiling so wide. Percy can see just how much I liked him, how much I loved him. But he's a pervert and he's cruel and Percy sees it happen, but he can't stop it. Luke's just talking to her, his patience is wearing thin, but little she can't see that as her expression changes too from her beautiful smile to a desperate pleading one as she begs him, begs for forgiveness. Percy can't help but think I was so much prettier when I was smiling, before Luke stole that from me. I am watching the whole scene, horrified.

It happens in slow motion, in Percy's eyes, and next to him I flinch in anticipation. Percy feels sick, because this is all too familiar, because he's seen it before when he was growing up, he's seen all the red flags that he was too late to spot as a child.

"Don't look," I murmur quietly to Percy hastily, but it feels half-hearted, even though I look not only terrified, but horrified. But it's too late and Percy can't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of us.

We watch, the both of us, as Luke's hand cracks against her-my younger face. There's no one else in the hall, the school day's over, math was her last period. And we both see the icy rage in Luke's cold blue eyes, and we see younger me still in fear, shaking once he's left my alone in the hallway, all by herself. I'm shaking uncontrollably, and I'm crying silently, but it's even worse than sobbing because I'm not making a sound. Because this senior, this boy Percy assumes was my boyfriend back then (Percy thinks he's too old for me and he's right), has just hit this little freshman girl, leaving a red hand-print mark on her face. He's an abusive bastard, and little me is just crying, because I'm sorry but I shouldn't be sorry. Luke should be sorry, because you cannot hit another woman, not your girlfriend, not like that. And little me has sunk to the ground, my math textbook, the same one I am holding in my arms, spilling onto the ground. And little me won't stop shaking or crying and Percy has half a mind to go beat Luke up, but he can't because he can't beat a ghost up, a memory up. That's impossible.

"Stop apologizing," I whisper quietly to my younger self, the only words I've said after finishing cursing at myself. Percy whips his head, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the gruesome scene to see I've gone still next to him, tears of my own sliding down my cheeks. Percy wants to throw up, he feels so sick. So this was my high school relationship that I'd refused to tell him earlier when he'd asked. This twisted, abusive relationship. Percy hates Luke, he hates him so much it hurts. I choke out a sob and fall to the ground, and Percy can't help but notice it's the same position I'd fallen in years ago, but this time I'm not shaking, much to his relief. Is this supposed to help me answer the Big Question? Because all I feel is pain.

Percy quietly sits down next to me, not saying anything. He doesn't think he can really say anything. What does one say to this? I'm sorry? No. But he's content with being there for me, at the least. Percy puts his arms around me, and we both watch little her-me sob and shake for an hour, both of us at a loss for what to say.

Neither of us scream or even care when we dissolve into darkness, spiraling back to the main Heaven place we came from. Percy just holds me, the whole way there.

•

My tears have dried in only a few moments, but my eyes are puffy and the skin around them pink. I still hold the math textbook close to my heart, and Percy doesn't understand because he hates that book now, he wants it to burn to ashes in a bonfire. Then he sees it. Percy sees the phone number scrawled on the corner of the paper and he's filled with a sinking feeling because he knows the number belongs to a certain, blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy. He hates him even more then, because I am still clutching that damn book like I'll die without it and Percy doesn't have the heart to pull it out of my grasp, so I'll breathe like a normal person. I think the Big Question and Heaven in general is more pain than it's worth.

Because he knows I still love Luke and he knows I feel betrayed and hateful towards myself for still loving him, but I always will, an irrational, terrible love that I'll never be able to rid myself of. And Percy loathes Luke even more, even if he doesn't know where he is now, because he broke me so many years ago, and still to this day, I clearly still love him no matter how much I try. Luke doesn't deserve my love, he thinks. Luke doesn't and never did deserve me because I'm too perfect, and witty in Percy's mind, and he doesn't know why he feels so protective but Percy's always hated jerks, bullies, you name it. It doesn't take an hour for my to stop crying like it did for younger me, but I'm clearly still shaken up when I'm done crying.

Percy forces himself to pry the book out of my numb fingers. He makes himself put the book down carefully instead of tossing it off a cliff like he really wants to. "I'm sorry," he hears from my small voice. He looks to see me, rubbing away any trace of my tears desperately. It makes his heart squeeze in pain, but he ignores the ache.

"Don't be," is all he says, keeping 'the Luke should be instead' to himself.

"Do you think all of them are going to be like that?" I question lightly, staring at the four other items in the white box. Percy shrugs.

"I guess we'll find out," he decides. He knows what they'll be like, but he's not supposed to tell me anything. As he said earlier, this is my near-death journey, not his.

"What if we choose not to go into my memories?" I ask softly, staring at the objects suspiciously.

"You have to. It's the only way to answer your Big Question," Percy replies, insight-fully. I repress a shudder and nod solemnly.

"Alright then." I scoop up the crumpled crayon drawing, tossing it in my hands. Percy notices I don't clutch it to my heart like I did last time as the world spins around us, sucking us into another memory.

•

I scowl immediately as I unfold the drawing, knowing exactly what memory this one is going to be. My eyes look down at the drawing in a silent accusation and Percy doesn't want to inform me that I am having a staring contest with a fucking drawing, for God's sake Annabeth. If I hadn't broken down in big heartbroken sobs earlier, Percy probably would've made a joke about my hostility towards the scrap of paper.

I tear the drawing apart, letting it fall to the ground as we materialize in what Percy assumes is my house. It's a large penthouse that only wealthy people can afford and Percy can't help but look around in awe. I'm not nearly as fascinated, even if I'm technically back home- well- back in my parents' house. But Percy knows better than most people that a house doesn't make a home.

"Nice house," he says, testing the waters.

"Thanks," I say, not even bothering to disguise the clear bitterness in my voice. Percy ignores it, knowing he would probably feel the same way.

I step into the kitchen, Percy watching my cold behavior towards seemingly no one. To himself, Percy suspects my meltdown over he-can't-even-say-his-fucking name had a bigger effect on me than I'd let on.

"Now we wait," I say, watching carefully. A little blonde girl suddenly comes into view and Percy can't help but inhale a sharp breath when he sees little me. In this memory, I'm around nine years old and Percy's heart melts a little. My hair is frizzier, and though my smile isn't nearly as bright as Percy's was when he was nine (only when he was with his mom), Percy thinks I'm adorable- a thought that genuinely surprises him. He's never been particularly fond of kids, not yet anyways, but he figures he'll melt when he has his own kids because yes of course he wants his own bundles of joy. He doesn't care if they're adopted or whatever, he'll love them no matter what; he knows so much with a fierce confidence.

I still carry a certain knowing, even at that age, Percy realizes. I still hold my chin high in a superiority Percy had first found somewhat annoying but was now slowly finding endearing. I stare at myself with a cold indifference and what Percy thinks is a little bit nostalgia, perhaps disappointment. I sit down on a kitchen chair, watching the scene unfold with a patient yet irked manner. Percy goes to sit down next to me, but I stop him. "My step-mother's going to sit there, and I don't think a memory sitting on you will feel too good," I advise, so Percy sits on the seat on the right of me instead, intrigued by how sharp my memory is. Percy wonders in the back of his mind if it's because I remember what's bound to be a terrible memory so vividly or because I simply has stellar, damn near photographic memory. He thinks it's an equal mixture of both. I sit quietly, my hands folded, my chin resting on them easily. Percy tries not to be concerned and pays attention as a woman enters the room.

Little me is coloring on an ivory piece of paper, but it doesn't look a normal child at that age. She-me is using a ruler, drawing precise lines, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her rosy mouth in concentration. Upon squinting and therefore closer inspection, Percy realizes that she's sketching a building with a goddamn green Crayola crayon. "Margaret," little me greets my step-mother suspiciously and warily.

"Annabeth," the woman's voice is pleasant and she distractedly looks towards the kitchen sink, nearly overflowing with dishes. She tends to the dirty dishes because even though she keeps a homey kind of untidy house, she will not tolerate the kitchen looking sloppy. Little me pulls away from her drawing, looking satisfied with her master artwork. "What are you working on?" Margaret asks and Percy thinks she's the type of mother who asks things, not because she is necessarily interested, but because she knows how to treat kids. So far Margaret seems pretty okay and Percy thinks the problem will not be with Margaret, but with someone else. Little me's step-mother walks over and sits in the chair I had perfectly predicted she would. Margaret peers at the drawing, not much impressed (though it was very impressive for a nine year old girl's accomplishment), but certainly intrigued and not shooting little me's dreams down.

"It's pretty," Margaret says carefully, unsure of the feedback her step-daughter is hoping for.

"Thank you," little me says, ever the polite child. Percy feels as though he's seeing two strangers converse, but he knows firsthand that familial relationships, especially when it's not true blood, can be very complicated. "I'm going to go show Dad," little me declares.

"Frederick's busy Annabeth," Margaret reminds her, standing up and returning to her work. Little me cocks a knowing look at her.

"He'll make time for me," little me says with such certainty that Percy knows something bad's about to happen. I roll my eyes seemingly at myself. Percy thinks I'm being harsh on my past self, but says no such thing out loud. It isn't his place.

Little me walks defiantly, holding her drawing in front of her like a priceless jewel, turning left when she's walked a couple paces down a narrow hallway. Percy stands next to the memory, me still not saying anything. The little girl knocks on the door, waiting patiently.

"It's open," a man- Percy assumes it's Frederick's- voice is muffled by the door. Both me and little me, as well as Percy walk in.

"Look, Dad, look what I drew," little me says, clearly very proud of her accomplishment. Percy already can tell that Frederick is a workaholic and vaguely wonders if that's what I am like now as an adult, when I'm not in Heaven, that is.

"Hmm?" Frederick doesn't look up and Percy wants to just shake him, tell him to be there for his daughter, what is he even doing? "That's nice, dear," he says not glancing up at all.

"But Dad," little me murmurs, impatient and annoyed. She even taps her foot against the hardwood floor like a sassy adult. "You're not even looking," she states, approaching his desk and smacking the drawing loudly on top of a stack of blank pieces of paper, face down.

"I will, 'beth, later," he promises, but Percy knows promises are often broken and empty. Little me glares at him in her frustration.

Frederick mutters to himself under his breath, some math and science, things Percy doesn't understand but has no doubt I understand perfectly now as a twenty-two year old. My father reaches for some scrap, blank paper, and mistakenly picks up little me's drawing instead. Since I'd carefully placed it face down, it seems like a regular old scrap paper.

"Shit," Percy says, catching me off guard with his sudden declaration, as he watches it all unfold. He knows what's going to happen, but he's still dreading it.

Little me looks excited for once, thinking my Dad's finally going to look at it. Percy's heart goes out to me as he shakes his head at my father. Sure enough, Frederick tears the drawing in half, his daughter's face going slack in horror and disappointment. All the time little me had spent on it... down the drain; Frederick had wrecked it. My father just rubs salt in the wound, not giving it another thought as he scribbles illegible writing on one of the halves of the paper. After completing his thoughts on the paper, he finally pulls away to peer at his daughter.

"Now what did you want to show me, Annabeth?" he looks down at little me, not noticing how his daughter looks so upset. Of course he doesn't notice. If he never spends time with little me, how is he supposed to be able to recognize her goddamn emotions?

"Nothing," little me's voice is surprisingly steady. She marches out of his office, closing the door after herself, then storms into her room, slamming the door after her. Percy's not even surprised when the little blonde doesn't cry nor tell her father the truth. I'd been forced to grow up so fast, indifferent to the world already. Percy winces as the memory fades, the slam of the door still echoing in his brain.

Percy's eyes take in the last glances of the beautiful penthouse. He doesn't look at it the same way he did before he was shown the memory. "A big home means nothing if you live in it alone," I say tersely.

The memory dissolves into darkness around me as we spin and twirl back to the structures and tourists.

•

Percy looks at me after the second memory. "Do you think you're starting to understand?" he asks me and I shake my head no. How can I answer a question if I don't know what the Big Question is in the first place?

"You will," he says, standing up to leave again, walking away until he's gone. "Good luck! Not that you'll need it anyways!" he calls over his back before disappearing. Now it's just me. I stare down at the three other items left in the white box. I am left with a dress, of a photograph, and a quarter. Somehow, this just pisses me off even more. I sigh tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I rub my eyes, the heels of my palms digging so deeply into my eye sockets that I see white spots dancing on the dark background that everyone's so familiar with when we close their eyes. I'm exhausted, I know I am, and I speculate what would happen if I just walked in front of a rapidly-approaching cab down in the busy streets of New York City. Or in this case, of Heaven.

I knows it's an unhealthy, poisonous thought, but I don't really care. I try to imagine what Piper would think, if the brunette would think it was an accident or if she would know that I had done so purposefully, so tired of my life. It's morbid, I'm well aware, it's also sick and cruel, trying to think what my best friend would think of death. Still, I purse my lips, contemplating my end. I wonder if I can even die in Heaven?

I wonder how I'll go. Peacefully in my sleep? Somehow I doesn't think I'll make it old enough in Heaven and sane enough for such a blessing to envelope me. I think that I'm going to die soon here because I know deep down I'm taut as a wire, on the verge of snapping any day. I quit daydreaming of dying like a martyr, because for God's sake, I'm in Heaven and still I'm not satisfied. I think of how my routine was back before the car crash. I always ran through the motions of my mundane day, sketching and drawing a design for somebody else, because that's how it works there in the real world. I loved my job at the Architectural Firm, but I know I've never been satisfied with anything.

I work for someone, who works for someone, who works for someone, etc. And we all think we're working for ourselves, working to pay our bills, and buy our needs, our wants, the dreams we had crushed from childhood, but at the end of the day we're all working for someone else. And when someone works for us, we think we are suddenly somehow more special. But we're not, we never will be, because we will work, and work, and work, and work, work for money, work to get paid, work for someone else. Because that's just the way of the world and I know it. (But what's the point of knowing it if you can't change it?)

I consciously wonder if myself- the one who's having this brain experience back in the hospital- is wondering if my dream self can be tired too. The thought makes my brain hurt, so I stop thinking about all my different selves and fourth walls. I am too exhausted to be having an existential crisis.

I want the answer though, to the mysterious Big Question, I want the answer so bad. I pick up very shiny, silver quarter, twirling it between my fingers carelessly. I hold it up distastefully because even though I don't remember this memory as vividly (or at all) like the last two, I just know it's going to be bad. So far, I have seen memories where others have wronged me, but this time I think I'm going to see something I've done wrong. I don't know why, the quarter just seems like it's carrying my burdens. Not to mention, I've been wondering how this is teaching me anything, if I'm not remembering all my sins. Isn't that the whole point of Heaven and Hell? "This ought to be fun," I mutter to myself, closing my eyes as I fall into the swirling abyss for the third time, this time alone.

•

(A/N: The rest of the memories will be told through a present perspective of Annabeth, not Annabeth watching her memories since she's alone now and I don't have to write Percy's reactions to her memories.)

I am in middle school, sixth grade to be exact, and I'm not very popular. I know I'm not. Nobody likes the know-it-all, but it's not like I try to be a teacher's pet! I just enjoy studying so I become smarter. I am not ashamed, I refuse to feel that way because of my brain and my talent. I've told my Dad, but he's busy so he just shoves me aside, telling me to ignore them, the kids who like to ridicule me for my brain. I refuse to dumb myself down to fit their standards, but it's hard not to want to fit in.

I'll admit, I've wanted to be more likable ever since first grade. I don't think I'm vain, I don't brag either, but they still hate me. All they ever do is hate me. Some of the popular girls are nicer and they don't tease me for my brain. Like this one girl, Piper McLean. But I don't fit in with her friends, so I don't hang out with her as much as a best friend should. She tries, she really does, to immerse me in her friend group, but it's okay. Because someday I will be bigger than this, I know I will be.

The popular kids go to the mall after school sometimes. Somehow, I manage to wiggle my way into an invitation, I don't even know how. I think I just smooth-talk my way in. But they still cover their mouths, hiding smiles while they allow me permission. I know I'm being made fun of; I'm not stupid, far from it. I need to prove myself, I know that too.

I go to the mall after school with the other kids, and the girls don't really talk to me, but they allow me to linger in their group. I feel desperate and fake; I hate it. But I hang in there, because I know if they approve of me all the teasing will stop and things will start to get better. I might have to do their homework a little bit, but that's okay. I need this, I know I do. The girls are giggling, talking about who's cute and who's not, and I know I need to contribute.

They ask me who I have a crush on, but I've never really thought about. I hesitate and consider telling the truth, that I don't like anyone, but I know that will be met with major disapproval and any chance I have of winning their praise will be lost.

So I lie.

I'm not proud of it, but I say, "Jordan Blair." I don't like Jordan Blair. Well... I don't exactly not like him either. He's not the sharpest crayon in the box, but he's nice enough. Kinda. One time I saw him tease this girl with braces, but most of his type of people do those kinds of things. But here's the breakdown: I know Jordan is popular and none of these girls have a crush on him. He's approved already so they won't think he's gross or bad and they won't be jealous because they don't all have crushes on him.

To help my case I add, "I know he's out of my league, but he's pretty cute." I cringe at my words. I sound stupid, but they look at me, their interests piqued.

The middle girl, one of the most popular looks at me, carefully considering my words. "That's stupid," she says and my heart sinks in my chest. I messed up. "He's not totally like out of your league. If you weren't so nerdy like all the time, you could totally, like, get him." I think she says 'like' too much. It's irritating. "You're kinda pretty, besides," she waves her hand at her friends, who all nod like little bobble-heads. "Maybe if you straightened that blonde hair of yours and wore a little mascara, maybe some eyeliner, you could totally be hot, like yeah."

I nod in agreement along with everyone else. Another girl looks up at a gumball machine. "I want one," she says all of a sudden. "But I don't have any quarters on me," she says as they all pass the wishing fountain. I don't know why I do it. I could've just shrugged along with everyone else, claiming I don't have one either. Because I don't.

I eye the wishing fountain out of the corner my eye and then I grab a quarter out of the water when no one's paying attention. I wipe it hastily on my shirt, drying it. "Here," I say, handing the girl with sleek, black hair the quarter.

The girl looks at me, surprised, along with all the other girls. "Thanks," she says, grabbing a gumball and inserting the quarter. The girl in the very very middle, the most popular one with shiny brown hair, dyed with pink at the ends, looks at me impressed.

"You're super helpful," she says, flashing a smile at me. Pride swells in my chest, drowning my earlier guilt of stealing. I just smile back. The girls continue their chatter and they kind of let me go stand in the middle with the more popular girls, my rank clearly rising. I feel kind of out place, but I don't regret it. I'm popular now, this is my new life.

•

Mrs. Salas does not have a sense of humor. She has assigned science fair projects for us eighth graders, claiming if we break it or don't have it, she'll just give us a zero- no excuses. I'm always a good student, so I'm not too worried. I choose my project and go with a classic: erupting volcano. I decide to add some history aspects to my presentation (we will have to present it to the class) to impress her more.

But another boy is doing the same project I am which is very annoying. He brags a lot and everyone is very impressed with his volcano, knowing he'll get an A. I don't like losing and even though I know, rationally speaking, that there isn't really losing in doing this project, I want to do better than him.

He comes to school the next day with a pre-made kit and my jaw drops. That's completely cheating! But Mrs. Salas doesn't care. She just wants everyone to finish one and turn it in. I narrow my eyes at his volcano equipment, instantly jealous. I know he's going to do better than me, no matter what I do. He has fucking instructions for God's sake! (Everyone's swearing this year.) I am very sure in my intelligence and my abilities, but still I am nervous when we go to present. His is battery operated.

When I was younger, I used to have a more stable conscience, but I am finding that I don't care so much when I lie, and it's easier to trick people. I do not care anymore. It's wired in me and I know I always use it to my advantage. I know it's bad, but it doesn't make me feel guilty because I do not care anymore. So I mess with him a little bit, just to be on the safe side.

I temper with his batteries, easily making it unable to use when he goes to the sink to wash his hands. Mrs. Salas asks us to present our projects side by side, one after another since we're doing the same thing. I say, "okay" because it's not a big deal. But I want to go first, of course. I ask and Mrs. Salas doesn't mind. She smiles because she likes me while I present.

I race through the history speaking slowly and eloquently like my Dad taught me (even though he stammers sometimes.) He says I have a gift of speech so I use it well and properly. I think my teacher's impressed because she claps at the end. The volcano erupts into a tray so it doesn't make a mess and I sit down in my seat in the back after she takes my picture with my project, like she does for every student to put on the class website. I can't help but hold my breath when the other boy goes to complete his presentation.

This is the moment.

He flicks the switch and... nothing happens. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

He still gets an A anyways, like me, because the point of the project wasn't to be successful, but to present your work as best as possible. His friends are disappointed, but he's more upset. He comes and sits in the back in his desk, the one across from mine, after his presentation. He narrows his eyes at me, suspicious. "It was working earlier today," he hisses at me.

I just roll my eyes at him. "And that's my problem... why?"

"I think you did something to it," he whispers, accusing me of the crime I did indeed commit. Mrs. Salas doesn't know what he's said, but she hears him whispering and tells him to be quiet, causing the class to laugh.

"No, I didn't," I lie after a while, whispering back at him. He sighs, looking at the poor stuttering kid up there presenting now. I think he believes me, because I don't ever do anything wrong and all the teachers and prettiest girls like me. He doesn't say anything else and neither do I. I don't care that we both got A's.

I'm still happy mine erupted.

•

Piper is bugging me. She's my best friend in the whole world and I don't have many friends, at least, not real friends. I still have my ditsy popular acquaintances who have saved me from a lot of trouble through the years. But it's my sophomore year and I am studying for finals, but Piper wants to go out. A lot of high schoolers are going to a party at some popular boy's house, and Piper and I were invited, of course, her being of high status and me being part of an elite squad, even if not at the top. It's enough to qualify for house parties.

I don't want to go. But the kind brunette says I've been studying too much and she keeps talking, pleading while I'm trying to focus, so I just emptily promise to go, causing her to squeal, so she'll leave me alone. I go back to studying, forgetting about the incident, so I am very surprised when Piper bangs my bedroom door open half an hour later, asking why I'm not dressed yet.

"For what?" I ask, choosing to play dumb. Piper doesn't fall for it; she knows me too wel..

"The party! You promised, 'beth," she pouts and I glare at her, not cracking under her sweet face.

"I'm busy," I gesture to the books all around me. Piper points to my bed where she'd laid out a silver, sparkly dress of hers for me. It was a very pretty dress, I'll admit, but my studies came first. "Piper, you know I can't," I look at her sternly and she frowns.

"All you do is study," she accuses. "You're going to regret when you're older and you missed out on all the fun."

"Okay," I say easily, shrugging my shoulders. "I'll call you and tell you you're right then, happy?" I ask, not tearing my gaze away from my bright laptop screen.

"No!" she argues, angrier than I'd expected. "You always do this, Annabeth, you promised this time anyways. You have to come."

"I don't have to do anything," I say, knowing I'm going against my word. It doesn't faze me; as I told you earlier, my conscience is long gone. Piper blinks, clearly upset.

"Why do you always have to cause this drama?" Piper murmurs bitterly, trying to stare me down but I'm not looking. I don't start drama! Do I? My pride swells up in me, defending my actions.

"Don't start spitting out accusations," I chastise her. "You know college has always been very important to me."

"Wow," Piper drawls. "I didn't know it was more important than your promises and your best friend."

"Piper, you know that's not true-" I start, but she cuts me off.

"You always break promises and I never see you anymore! Your head is always in your books and-" she starts as well, but I cut her off this time.

"Your head is always up in the clouds," I spit, venom in my voice, my temper flaring up as I turn to look at her.

"That is not true!" the brunette exclaims in surprise.

"Yes it is!" I'm shouting now and so is she. Piper blinks, once, twice. I know I'm a shitty friend, selfish too, but I don't know how to be any other way.

"Fine," is all she says, her voice barely a whisper. She gathers her things and leaves my parents' house. I don't apologize, I don't do anything.

I don't even go after her.

It's just me and my computer now.

•

I'm back in the center of crowds now, Percy staring over me. "So did you figure it out?" he asks.

I look at him, still confused. He's holding the empty white box. "Figure what out?" I snap, kind of in a bad mood after seeing my fight with Piper.

"The Big Question," Percy answer coolly. I shake my head and he frowns.

"Damn," he looks pitifully upon me and shakes his head in disappoint. I glare; I don't need his pity, I'm doing fucking fantastic. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to rely on this but..." he reaches into the white box that I thought was empty and somehow pulls out an even bigger black box. I blink. How can a bigger box fit in a smaller one? Heaven should not go against basic logic because my mind hurts.

He pulls objects out of it, toys, trinkets, weird stuff I raise my eyebrow at lays it out in a straight line in front of me. "Have fun," he says, turning to walk away.

"Wait!" I call, my pride bubbling up in my throat as I call for him. "What the hell's all this?" I gesture at the things in front of me. I was hoping this whole memory thing was over.

"Well, it looks like you're tougher to crack. Go through all these and you'll have your answer," he shrugs.

"What if I don't?" I ask, and even I hear my own nervousness in my voice.

"You will," he promises. "You're only human." I watch helplessly as his back disappears. I turn my gaze at the stupid items in front of me and sigh, knowing there's not other way. Heaven is beginning to look more and more like Hell. I pick up the first item, a green bottle of chap-stick and sigh. I think I better go through this quickly, I'm getting anxious.

•

I am well into my junior year and all the girls are going out to another house party tonight. This time, I agree and come along. Piper dresses me nicely just like her, but she has always and always will be prettier than me. It's just something I have learned to live with. We go to the party and I am uncomfortable, constantly pulling down at my dress. It feels too short even though I know it's not actually compared to what the other girls are wearing. Piper goes off to flirt with a boy she's hoping to date, some blond, varsity young man with the name of Jason Grace, I don't really care for the details.

She urges me to go have fun and flirt, live a little. I don't want to so first I go to talk to the other popular girls, my other 'friends.' According to Amanda, one of the smarter of the bunch with nice brown eyes and dark hair, Joshua Thomas from our middle school is looking very fine tonight. I do not disagree, but it's not like I'm rather attracted to him or anything anyways. Amanda tells me I should try my luck with him after seventh grade. I try not to roll my eyes and just nod a little instead. I walk away after sometime. That did not go as planned. Piper's advice still rings in my ears and I know there is absolutely nothing else to do. I down another drink, which are not actually in those red solo cups they show you in movies about high school (a major disappointment for me).

I go and talk to Josh, because what the hell, why not? Josh is very, very drunk, I know so much. He smells like cheap beer and is a normal horny teenage boy, nothing special, so I make an excuse and leave out to the back of the house. A phone and portable speaker is blasting party music in front of the pool. A lot of the more popular people are out by the pool, flirting, their vodka swishing dangerously around in their cups near the pool. There is glass bottles of beer near the pool and I know this whole thing is stupid and dangerous. There are no lights on in the backyard, so there aren't as many people as inside the house, but the few familiar faces of the girls are enough for me.

"Annabeth!" a girl with strawberry blonde hair calls my name. I don't blink, but it's weird to see her in her underwear and bra. She's in the pool with a few other half naked girls, one of who is making out with a boy in the corner of the pool making me quite uncomfortable. But there are no other boys in the pool, probably because they don't there are a bunch of undressed girls in the pool in the back or else I assume they would all be here and no where else. The girls' clothes and sparkly party dresses are tossed aside on the edge of the pool, and they don't really care. They are holding cups of vodka in the pool and I know that's a safety hazard.

"Irene," I greet her and raise my cup in a silent cheers to her. She does the same.

"Come on in!" she waves her hand, beckoning me in.

I eye the boy in the pool pointedly. Irene just laughs. "It's not like he's going to do anything. He's her boyfriend," she explains, waving the making out couple away as if the detail is not important.

I'm a bit tipsy but I figure there's no harm in going in there with a bunch of girls and a busy boy. I strip quickly, tossing the clothes away and thankful for the darkness so they cannot see my body clearly. I don't think I'm ugly or anything, but it's not like I exactly feel like giving everyone a show. I'm seriously starting to doubt this situation, but I climb into the pool anyways.

We're in the pool for a while and I'm having fun, I think, for maybe the first time at a party like this. Of course, something has to ruin it. The boy and the girl are long gone, probably off to have fun with their shenanigans; I try not to think about it too much, because that's just gross.

But then I hear them, and I'm a little drunk now so my judgement and mind is very fuzzy. I see a few boys, only three compared to the seven of us girls, but I see Irene looking very angry. They're whooping, and stripping to their underwear before jumping in. I recognize one of them as Irene's boyfriend, who immediately comes and locks lips with her. I feel very awkward, and I try to leave, but one of the boys approaches me.

Another girl is yelling at Mark to get his stupid friends and get the fuck out. A few others are flirting, nobody's really all that concerned, but I know I'm not the only girl feeling uncomfortable. I know five of us, with the exception of Irene and one of the other girls flirting with the third boy, are all uncomfortable.

I tense up when the second boy approaches me. My eyes narrow at him and I feel very exposed. I very much agree silently with the girl yelling still. Another girl has joined her to berate them all. Stupid, stupid boys.

"Hey," he says. He flashes me a charming smile and I am immediately uncomfortable. I reach for my dress, ignoring him. I need to get out of here. I set down the cup on the edge of the pool, about to climb out, but he stops me, his eyes dark.

Fuck. "What?" I ask, trying to sound intimidating as usual. But he's stupid and probably horny, so he doesn't say much. He reaches forward, probably to kiss me all dramatically like the Prince Charming he obviously thinks he is, but I jerk away. "Um, how about no?" I tell him, pissed off. I know I got myself in this unfortunate situation and I don't want to cause a scene, but he's not getting me that easily.

"Aw c'mon," he groans, "don't be a bitch, Annabeth," he says. He knows my name, of course. He's popular too. Not the highest ranked, but in the higher half like me. If Irene wasn't so busy, she'd probably tell me to quit being a prude and have some fun. And of course, Piper was still inside. I roll my eyes because this is not happening, not on my watch.

"Fuck off, Kirk," I say, reaching for the pool edge once more. His hands reach for me and I can't move, cornered. He tries to kiss me again and I smack him as he gropes my ass. "Stop being an asshole!" I seethe, yelling at him and now the girls are looking at me, except for Irene of course; she's off in her own world.

"Shut the fuck up, you bitch," he counters drunkenly, and I punch him then. Hard.

Blood starts to flow out of his nose and he's groaning. Irene has stopped, along with Mark and everyone else. Irene's calling for me, but I'm leaving already, my dress held up protectively to my chest. I slip it on before entering the party drunk and wet. Nobody notices. The music is so loud and the place is absolutely chaotic that I'm invisible and I blend in. I am relieved.

I end up taking a cab and going home.

•

My fellow sophomore friends are all taking a bunch of extracurriculars. And I am too, of course, I want to go to a highly selective university. But I am not very artistic, besides my architecture sketching talents. I want to take an artistic club up and help my college applications in the future.

I grab a list of extracurriculars from the office and scan through it, rather unexcited about my options. But I think of my dream schools and I know I need to do this in order to be more well-rounded.

I finally choose randomly since I don't like anything on the list. I pretend with my 'friends', I lie sometimes and usually pretty well, and even though I know none of these traits are the poster attributes that lead to flashing signs saying 'good person' and even though I know my moral compass doesn't really point due north 24/7/365, I know that drama club isn't the worst option.

They have kids from all social groups and since everyone's so outgoing, I might be able to blend in a little better for once in my life. I never really like blending in, even though I yearn for it, because I know I need to be the best in everything to be liked by colleges, peers, etc, but I kind of want one place where I can relish becoming a ghost.

So I sign up.

When I go to the practice after school the next day, I see it's student run and feel even more relief flow through my blood. Now I really can blend in. A boy with dark spiky hair notices me and walks over. Some of his friends look over, but most people are so busy talking to each other, they don't care.

"Hey, New Girl," he nods at me and he's very tall, so I think he's a senior, two years older than I am. He scans me and I immediately realize that if I can get him to like me, I'll have even more leverage over this high school's students than I already do and my ranks will only continue to rise. I want that so I say hi back.

"You act much?" he asks and even though, based off what I've seen so far from all the socializing I don't think they act very much, I answer anyways. I shake my head in response. He shrugs. "Cool," is all he says.

"Hey, we're all heading to Brittany's house," he gestures to a bright-haired girl speaking loudly to a few people. I can hear her from here. My ears hurt from her shrill voice. "Maybe drink a little. You down?" I nod because I need to make nice with all of them. And I don't mind drinking, even if I'm not exactly as experienced as the rest of them. But it's not my first drink.

He grins. "I knew you'd be cool." I offer a weak smile in return. "Yo Doug," he calls to another boy across the room who looks up upon hearing his name. "She's coming too." Doug nods, going back to his conversation.

Ten minutes later we're all piled in four cars, all driven by seniors except for one, which is driven by a junior. We all hang out in Brittany's pool, and though they strip, not making out or anything, but just to get in the pool, I sit on the edge of the pool, not wanting to be half naked this time. Another girl dips her legs in, not going in like me. She's very cool too because a lot of people are talking to her, so I think it's okay that I'm choosing not to get in.

They talk with me very little, more interested in their beers, but I don't mind. Like I said, this will be my place to just blend in. I drink a lot though, since I'm not talking that much and I want to blend in.

I don't know which bottle I'm on at this point.

An hour or two passes and I just want to go home then. I tell spiky-haired senior from earlier and he offers to drive me home. I agree, thanking him, and he drops me off at my house. He leans over and I first think he's going to kiss me, which isn't the worst thing ever because he's a senior and okay-niceish, plus pretty attractive on the spectrum. But he doesn't, he just grabs a piece of gum and gives it to me.

I don't know if it's because my breath stinks or something and that's his nice way of saying it or something, but I take it, give him a strange look again, and thank him once more.

Then he kisses me. He goes slow enough at first when leaning in that if I want to pull away, I can, but I don't. I'm not sure why.

I blink. He stares. "Not quite like my ex," he decides and I blink again. I get out of the car and head to my garage.

"By the way. The gum's loaded with pot," he tells me. I nod, relieved he wasn't insulting me. "You're chill enough. Catch you next time," he grins, driving away too fast, he's speeding, but I don't care.

I put the gum in my mouth because the drinks are starting to give me a headache. I know that getting high won't exactly help, but it'll provide a temporary solution.

I decide that drama's not really my scene.

The hangover the next day is a pain in my ass and I silently curse Dionysus from my beloved myths, even if the whole thing is my fault.

I've never been particularly good at taking the blame.

•

In seventh grade, all the popular kids are trying to get their first kisses. The earlier you get it, the more liked you are. I've always wondered what it's like to be that girl that every boy has a crush on, but I decide not to dwell on it too much. Eliza gets her kiss first in the entire grade from Cooper Alan. Everyone talks about it for days and I think it's kind of stupid that everyone wants to get kissed.

I don't really care to be kissed, but I know everyone's expecting to keep up my reputation. The girls tell me Joshua Thomas, who is considered cut enough, likes me. Eliza tells me he likes me. "I'm sorry," I say to her. She blinks, confused.

"What? I said he likes you."

"I know," I sigh. "I pity him." Eliza ignores me and continues talking to me about kissing him. She even goes far enough to give me a green tube of lip gloss, saying that the key lime pie flavor is very attractive.

The seventh grade, winter dance is coming up soon and I know everyone thinks Josh is going to try and kiss me at the dance. It'll be my first kiss and I'm not very hyped for it or anything, but I wouldn't mind I think. I end up not wearing the lip gloss because I hate the sticky feeling all over my lips. Also, I'm not doing anything for a boy I don't even really like.

We all dance (more like jumping up and down awkwardly on the balls of our feet) all evening and sure enough, Josh pulls me over midway through the night. "Hey," he says, and I can see he's nervous easily.

I don't think I want to kiss him. I don't know why I suddenly think that, he's fairly popular, I'll rise in ranks if I kiss him, but I don't want to. And it's as simple as that. So I walk away, not really saying anything. I don't need a reason.

The next day, Eliza tells me Josh likes Elaine now.

I don't even bother to act sad.

•

In senior year, I've already chosen my college. I'll be attended Rice University, known for it's spectacular architectural program and I'm excited. Rice is very selective and so I'm proud of myself. So everyone's kicking it back, hanging out for a seniors only party. I am invited only because of Piper. I am no longer popular because of something that happened at the end of junior year, but I don't mind.

Some people still like me, like the popular boys, but the girls are no longer my friends. It doesn't even feel like a loss at all.

I go, because Piper wants me to, and most everyone is drinking again. I don't drink because I don't feel like it today.

I wander the house, sipping on some punch that's not spiked, I'd already checked, and I look at the decorations of the house, blocking out the chaos around me. I go outside after some time because I had how loud and chaotic it is inside. My brain is starting to pound from the noise and I'm not having any fun. But I can't bail because I have to drop Piper off at her house, or just take her home to mine afterwards. I'm pretty much her designated driver.

I stare up at the night sky but there are no stars, like usual. I'm not disappointed because I've never had expectations for anything. That's why nothing ever hurts me and I'm glad I have found a system that keeps my heart from getting crushed. I can't even begin to express to you the number of times I have walked into girls' bathrooms, locker rooms, classrooms, etc and seen a pathetic girl sobbing in the corner of the room, some other girls comforting her. I don't ever pity them like everyone else does. I think it's her fault because she should have lowered her expectations in the first place or she was bound to get hurt. She should have seen it coming, but I know everyone doesn't always look ahead, nodding towards the future like I do. I have long accepted the fact that I just crazier than everyone around me.

There are some seniors standing outside the house when I walk out. They are leaning against the brick house, smoking some cigarettes, probably thinking they look cool. To be fair, they do look cool, but I know all the health risks with smoking.

"Want a smoke? You look like you need one," one of the boys offers and I don't care because I know I can control myself. So I nod.

"Thanks," I say as I grab the lighter and light a cigarette up for myself. I've never smoked before, but I just subtlety watch what the rest of them are doing and mimic their motions. I huff in the nicotine and release a breath, closing my eyes and leaning my blonde head against the red bricks.

"Rough day?" one of them snorts, looking at me. I decide I like them enough. They don't really give a shit and they are super casual with each other, never causing any trouble. They're better than all the popular kids combined I think.

I shake my head no and the guy just shrugs. "You're Annabeth, right? Annabeth Chase?" another boy, one wearing a navy blue beanie on his mop of hair and a flannel jacket asks. I nod and he nods back. "Cool." I don't nod this time.

"Feel better?" a third boy asks as I smoke a little more. The fourth and final boy laughs, though not unkindly, when I nod. "You don't say much do you?" the first guy asks, piping up again. I nod once more, hiding a begrudging smile when they all laugh once more at my obvious attempt to not speak for the joke.

I say thank you a little later and leave after some time, ducking inside to find Piper and see if she's ready to go home now. I don't think I'll ever smoke again but it was nice to just forget everything for some time and smoke with them, hang out, listen to them talk about existentialism like they're high and pipe in a few times when they contemplate if anything's really here at all. They're funny and I decide I like them enough. Maybe I'll talk to them again some time, just not smoke.

Even if it felt good, I don't plan on becoming addicted to nicotine which is very, very powerful.

I don't like being attached to things, addicted or otherwise. I belong to no man, no home, no person, no place, no city, no life.

I don't even belong to myself.

•

In third grade, having awesome mechanical pencils and pens in general, is important. Your writing utensil gauges your social ranking. I'm not very popular, not in third grade, but even though everyone knows I'm a nerd, I fall in the middle of the spectrum I think.

I'm not so uncool that no one talks to me, but I'm not exactly the girl everyone wants to be around. I don't think I'll ever be that girl and I'm not sure I'd want to be anyways. Besides, Piper's more than enough even if she has tons of other friends. I'm okay by myself.

In homeroom, I sit next to this girl, Amanda. She's pretty popular and nice enough, smarter than some of her other friends. I have no doubt that she'll be huge in middle school and eventually high school. But for now, she sits next to me in the alphabetical seating chart because she's a B and I'm a C. She has all the coolest writing utensils and everyone knows her for it, not to mention, adores her for it.

Everyone wants to be her friend, and I'll admit, if given the chance, I would want to be her friend too. I don't understand how one person can be so pretty, charismatic, and smart all at the same time. Then I remember even Piper's like that, one hundred percent likable. Everyone thinks Piper is really beautiful and she is. I'm proud to be her best friend but nobody really gives me a second glance. I try not to think about it too much or I'll just make my brain hurt and I don't want to do that because my brain is my top, of all time prized possession, over anything and everything else. It's my gift and I try to be careful with it.

Amanda always lays out all her gel, glittery pens flat out on her desk. I think she's an idiot for doing that, but I never say anything. One day, Amanda and I, along with everyone else (except for Kevin Miller, who is flinging his pencil at the girl Katie in front of him) are doing school work. Amanda goes up to the teacher's desk and asks to go to the bathroom quietly. At least I think she asks to go to the bathroom, because she leave she leaves the classroom, but she could've been getting a drink of water for all I know.

But anyways, I see the glittery gel pens and I feel very, very tempted. I want one so bad it hurts.

Not even just for myself, but I want one because I'm tired of Amanda having so many and bragging about them. It's very irritating. So I take one.

My conscience is still slightly there at first, so I feel a little guilty in the beginning, but then I see how pretty the ink inside is and I don't care anymore. I hide it in my pencil case before Amanda can come back and see me holding it. I know she's probably going to tell, sniffling up too because she's always been a bit of a baby, but I ignore the voice inside my mind until it disappears.

When Amanda returns from the unknown destination, she reaches for her green pen. For some time, she doesn't notice anything wrong because I grabbed the orange one that smells like citrus fruit, and that pen was on the end of her stack so there's no hole where it's missing. After nearly fifteen minutes, Amanda reaches for the orange pen and discovers it's not there anymore. I keep myself busy, my grey eyes glued to the page in front of me.

"Hey!" she whispers all of a sudden to me. I look up at her innocently and slightly irritated.

"What?" I hiss back, setting my red crayon down for a moment.

"My orange pen's missing, the one that smells like tangerines," Amanda says angrily. I blink at her.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I think you took it," she accuses, glaring at me. I look offended and glare at her.

"I did not," I say as dignified as possible.

"I'm telling," Amanda says to me and stands up, approaching the teacher's desk once more. Sure enough, Mrs. Vinson calls me up to the desk, where is Amanda is crying quietly, hugging herself. She looks tired, Mrs. Vinson, and I wonder just how many of these stupid situations she has had to deal with in her entire experience of teaching. I imagine it must happen quite often because just three days ago Louis Gates stole Sherry Waters' glue-stick and she'd thrown a fit.

Mrs. Vinson sighs. "Annabeth," she begins, locking eyes with me. "Did you take Amanda's pen?"

"No," I say after a moment of hesitation. At first I think the pause will give me away but our teacher seems to believe me since Amanda doesn't have any proof that I took it. Mrs. Vinson sighs once more and I wonder if she knows how much she does that. She does that even more during History whenever Alan Hunter gets the dates all confused and starts saying weird things like Abraham Lincoln's time period coming before George Washington's.

"Look, Amanda, our class will keep an eye out for it, okay?" she offers and Amanda sniffles, nodding. "Also, you need to apologize to Annabeth because you accused her of stealing it in the first place," she reminds her.

Amanda apologizes to me even if I don't want her to. I bring the pen home, but I don't want it anymore, not after she apologized. But I can't give it back either so I use it all up, drawing and scribbling all over a notebook until the ink runs dry. Then I throw it out.

So Amanda wouldn't even want her stupid pen now anyways.

•

At the end of junior year, the popular girls throw a party for our grade. Of course, everyone is invited even though most of the kids not part of the squads or seeking acceptance from the squads don't attend.

Valerie, Jessica's third best friend has gotten a new boyfriend this year around two weeks ago. His name is Willie Love and if I'm being honest, I'm surprised they're still together by now. All they do is fight, because Willie likes checking out girls and flirting and Val doesn't appreciate it. I think she should just break up with him because even though I don't like her, he's such a cheater and no girl should really be so serious with him.

Valerie likes to tell everyone they are serious, but I do not really think so. Just two days ago, I saw Willie flirting with a girl named Katie from middle and elementary school, the girl that Kevin was always bothering/pining after when we were all younger and stupider.

But I think we're all still stupid. We say stupid shit we don't mean, we cause drama for the fun of it, we run around making mistakes, crying, and kissing. I'm pretty sure everyone is crazy here but I do not really care. I don't go around crying or really starting drama either, but I do make my fair share of bad mistakes. Willie Love is flirting with some girl named Maria today near all the beer, but I can't catch exactly what he's saying over the blaring music.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only one to see him do it and he sees me watching him. So Willie leaves Maria with her friends and comes to talk to me, probably to bribe me not to tell Valerie. Not like I would tell her anyways, I already told you, I don't really like her nor any of her friends. I honestly just can't wait for high school to be over so I can go to some smart college where none of these morons will be. Where I can stop pretending and caring and enjoy my own company like I used to do when I was much, much younger.

Willie Love approaches me when I sitting on the couch in the corner by myself, talking to no one, but instead people watching. I've found people watching makes you learn a lot about everyone around you. He sits next to me but I ignore him because I don't like cheaters, even if they're good-looking. I don't do boys like him. There's only ever been one boy I've ever really liked and that was Luke Castellan, who I broke up with in my freshman year after Piper yelled at him for being an asshole and then yelled at me while she was crying for taking his crap.

I don't like boys like that anymore. I don't blame Luke for ruining it for me, I really don't. I think, in some ways, he actually helped me. But I don't fall in love, not anymore. Everyone is just a fling, even my friends. I'm always looking forward, ready to move on, it's just the way I am. So when Willie starts charming me, probably so he can get in my pants like everyone else he flirts with, I kind of ignore him, not really giving a shit.

But when he tries something I didn't expect him to, Valerie walks in at the worst time. Willie tries to kiss me, and even though I don't like Valerie, I'm not about to kiss another girl's boyfriend. Not to mention, he's a huge asshole. But before I can blink, his lips are on mine and I shove him away in disgust.

"You're drunk, Willie," I tell him, pushing him off me forcefully and standing up. But it's too late because Val had come searching for him and all she saw was my lips on his. I roll my eyes, waiting for her to blow up.

Sure enough, Valerie absolutely has a meltdown and Shelly comes to see what the huge deal is all about. Valerie, of course, doesn't blame Willie Love at all even though everyone, including her, knows he's a big fake and a huge cheat. She blames me, yelling at me, trying to insult me, pulling her boyfriend flush against her. But her voice is really high-pitched and annoying and I just want to go home.

I down the rest of cup, which is in a red solo cup this time, and slap it on top of the glass coffee table casually. I look at her, my expression indifferent in comparison to her red, hot one. I don't really care and I know this is the end, I'm being boot out of the popular crowd but I don't mind. I don't mind spending my senior year and the small remaining part of this year like I will in college.

Willie had only been flirting with her, but I lie and say, "Willie kissed Maria," I say and am oddly pleased when Val's eyes nearly fall out of her head, bugging out wildly. She, explodes, shoving her boyfriend now and yelling at him. I don't bother defending him. Instead, I just walk forward while she yells, and to seal my empty presence from the crowd, I pull him forward by his collar.

I put my lips against him and then push him away. Willie is wide-eyed, and Val is squawking, screeching like a bird. I already said it before, but I don't like Willie; I just did that to prove a point. Then I take some guy's cup of beer and poor it out on his head. I walk away and while they're screaming behind me, yelling even at me, I can't help but not care.

My exit is just as dramatic as I wanted.

•

Senior prom is a really big deal to Piper. She's going with her boyfriend, Jason Grace, but I'm not particularly excited for the event. I'm excited for her, of course. I've met Jason quite a few times and even though I was wary at first, I like him and he's a good person. Jason always follows the rules, he's kind, and he's approved by me now so Piper is quite happy about the whole ordeal.

I'm seventy-five percent they're going to get married sometime because they're so serious and they've stuck by each other's sides through it all, even their particularly nasty fights. But I'm happy for her, for them both actually.

But I am not happy with the idea of going to senior prom and Piper will not let up on the idea. The kind brunette offers to take both Hazel and I along with her because Jason has friends who would probably be more than happy to take us. We can go together, like a triple date, but I keep refusing, pleading her to take Hazel who is on board and let me be. But Piper won't let me be a shut in for the night so she begs me to come, and so I do.

We meet his friends a week before the prom at a coffee shop. I take my cup of coffee, black like always, and we take a seat in a booth. Jason comes, flanked with both his equally attractive jock friends. I don't why I feel so shy with this whole meeting thing, but I do. Hazel's nervous, but I'm not. I just don't want to be here, period.

Hazel's pair is a brown-eyed and brown-haired fellow with a sweet smile and a soft voice. I think they'll get along fine; they're both pretty quiet and equally shy. Piper and Jason are perfect, of course, they've been dating for a while now.

The boy I'm paired up with has dark hair and blue eyes and a crooked smile. He's fairly soft-spoken as well, not unlike Hazel's pair. His name is Charlie and I like that he keeps his haired trimmed neatly and out of his eyes. He has a very neat demeanor and I respect that greatly. I decide he's not so bad after talking with him for some time, just a typical, nicer teenage boy. He tells me I'm very smart during our conversation and I smile, genuinely this time.

Though I don't mind being complimented on my looks, my brain has always been my favorite part of me and to be complimented on it lets me know that Charlie's not shallow and that he's really listening to me. Charlie's pretty funny, and we share the same kind of dark sense of humor and I actually have a good time. He's a gentleman and he pays for my coffee, which I politely thank him for.

He asks me what color my dress will be so he can coordinate with his tie and corsage, etc. I tell him I'm not sure yet, but Piper elbows me in the ribs.

"Blue," she cuts in. "She'll be wearing dark, royal blue." Charlie nods, a little caught off guard that Piper knows what I'll be wearing but I don't. But he gives me a slightly confused, yet understanding smile anyways.

I tell him that I'm not particularly into fashion and shrug, making up some lame excuse and then he looks less confused. We say bye and head home after that. Hazel's talking about the boy she's paired with and I zone out in the taxi ride as we go home.

Prom night rolls around and Piper's found a dress for me a few days before when she went shopping at the mall. (I refused to come.) Sure enough, it's beautiful flowy royal blue dress. It cascades down like a waterfall, and I'll admit it's absolutely gorgeous. I thank her, of course, but she brushes away my gratitude, simply squealing about how pretty I'll look.

The evening of the prom, Piper does my makeup and Hazel's as well because she's so much better at it than either of us are. Hazel looks stunning afterwards, and Piper of course looks just as beautiful as ever. We meet up with the boys and Piper and Jason head off to dance, as does Hazel and her date, so I look helplessly up at Charlie. I don't like dancing, but I know I'm probably going to have to.

Charlie asks me to dance, so of course I just say yes. If I'm being honest, he's not a much better dancer than me, so we're both tripping, but he makes endless jokes about our lack of coordination and so I laugh, embracing our major fail. After a couple hours of dancing and talking, Piper and Jason come over, asking if we're ready to go. Charlie, being a bit of a more shy guy, is definitely ready to go. I am too.

Hazel and her date have really hit it off, but they're ready to go too. People have been making out in corners of the gym and it's been making me uncomfortable this entire time, but Charlie helps take my attention off it all. Even though he's pretty shy, he makes some corny jokes and cheesy one-liners as his dorky attempt to flirt, so I help him out a little, being a bit better at this than he is. I flirt back, but I know my heart's not really into it because Charlie's awesome and everything, but I don't fall in love anymore, I already told you that.

I'd love to be friends with Charlie, to be honest, he's a great guy, but I don't have some attraction for him. He's good-looking, but I don't really want this. Piper informs me we're staying at a hotel after this and suddenly I feel sick. Because I don't remember her telling me about this. I point out we don't have any luggage, but she simply tells me we really don't need anything.

I want to go home, I really do. But I paste on a smile for Charlie and for her, going to the hotel with everyone. Besides, everyone knows what prom night's famous for- shenanigans. But I don't want this, I can feel my throat closing up and I don't want to be here. Charlie flirts with me in our room a little and I don't think he can see past my fake smile and see just how uncomfortable I really am. I think I'm going to throw up. Charlie kisses me and he's nice and a decent kisser, but I don't feel anything so that's that. I decide I don't want this.

I excuse myself, saying I'll be right back, but I know I don't plan of coming back. I feel bad at first, because Charlie's been really nice to me, but I also know I don't owe him anything and the friend-zone is some bullshit concept created by some petty teenage boy. I hike up the bottom hem of my dress and it occurs to me that I look like some sort of runaway bride from a dramatic movie, but I ignore the feeling.

I briskly make my way to another room and turn on the TV after locking the door. I let out a breath of relief, flopping onto the bouncy bed and taking my heels off. I won't be able to get a ride home, not at this time of night, so I decide I'll probably just sleep here and leave in the morning before any of my friends can catch me leaving. Maybe at like 4 am when they're all asleep or still busy doing... whatever it is that they're doing.

I watch SpongeBob flicker across my screen and switch it to a documentary. The yellow sponge's voice has always annoyed me and I prefer something that teaches me something new; that's my idea of exciting.

It also occurs to me that I'd told Piper that I didn't want to be here in the first place and even though it started off as a great night, I can't help but blame her a little. I know it's wrong, but I don't know how to be otherwise. A few minutes later, I hear voices outside my door. It's Piper, definitely, Hazel too. I hear them knock but I don't answer the door. I decide to wait half an hour until they're gone and then leave, try the subway or something. It'll be embarrassing to go wearing such a huge dress, but I don't want to stay the night here. I'm going home and that's that. I've made my decision.

Piper and Hazel are talking now, both sounding a little tipsy, especially Hazel- probably because she is so small and a lightweight.

"Annabeth, are you serious right now?" I hear Piper call out. "You don't have to fuck him," she groans, "just come out, let's talk about this." But I don't want to come out, I don't want to do anything. "Annabeth you're being rude to Charlie." I know it's just Piper and Hazel out there, but I still refuse to come out. I'm so glad high school is almost over because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. College will be better, I'm hoping. Maybe I'll be able to create my new reputation like I want to.

"You always do this!" Piper accuses. "You never talk to me. You just close up, it's annoying. Why can't you just say what you're feeling?" I don't do that! Do I?

"You're being a drama queen," Hazel murmurs drunkenly. I know she's drunk, but it still stings. I am not a drama queen. At least I don't think so. Sometimes I'm a little manipulative, maybe, but I'm not a drama queen. I hope. Maybe I am.

"God, Annabeth, just come out and handle this like an adult!" Piper calls to me. I don't answer. I lay down onto my back on the bed and shut my eyes, blocking out the sound. I'll just wait for a little while. Surely they'll go away after some time.

Before I know it, I've dozed off into an uneasy sleep.

•

I wake up to who I assume is Charlie poking me awake (in the most irritating way possible). "Are you ready to go home now?"

I want to smack him and then smack Piper, who I'm assuming got the key for him. I'm about to tell him to leave me alone, when it occurs to me that instead of laying down on the bed, I'm laying on a cold, hard surface. My eyes shoot open and I see a cold desk in front of me as well as some key-chains hung up on a rack. Percy is standing over me and asking if I want to go home, not Charlie. Somehow, I feel relieved.

I can't process his questions because I am too busy feeling some sort of guilt. After seeing all those things I did, both the small and the big things, I feel sick over the emotions I didn't feel back then.

But am I ready to go home? I think back to my mundane life and dark coffee, the firm I work at and my sketches of drawings that will never have been built if I had really died, because I remember how Percy had told me I'm only here because of my coma, but I am really in the hospital right now, with God knows who crying over me now. I hope real, hospital Percy is guilty for pulling that plug on me. He could have killed me, little bastard.

Normally, I would bark out a sarcastic comment right about now, but I don't. I would beg and ask what's going on still, but I still don't. I want to ask him so much more, but I am too exhausted. I am spent, and I am tired.

Percy smiles at me and holds his hand out for me. Normally, I would shove his hand away and claim I can get up myself, but I don't. I take it, grateful even though I won't say so out loud, and he helps me to my feet. "I put your box away," he tells me. "I don't think you'll be needing it anymore." I don't even bother to nod.

"Now hurry, we don't have much time left," he says and starts to walk quickly out of the gift shop and out of the alleyway. I'm confused and groggy, tired as I stumble after him. It feels like it's been decades since he set that white box in front of me and I pulled out the math textbook. I still flinch, thinking of the memory. And what about when he pulled the plug on me? I want to know what that's all about.

I would ask, but I am too busy trying to keep up with his brisk pace. We hurry past the house of God, where tourists are still clambering about, trying to shove each other in. Some of the younger tourists look so carefree, optimistic, and happy. And I want that, I want it more than anything I've ever wanted in the entire world. I am tired of living in this prison cell I've built around myself.

I've never felt so weak. "Hurry," he says again, moving to the middle of the circle of all the architecture. He pulls me onto the ground to sit down with him, but I fall ungracefully. He chuckles to himself and steadies me.

"Now do you understand why you're here? Do you understand the question you had asked yourself?" Percy asks me.

It takes a bunch of effort but I force myself to meet his gaze and I realize I've always known the question. I know the Big Question and I know the answer.

My voice feels smaller and more hoarse than ever and I hate it when I speak. "I had asked myself why I didn't swerve around the car coming at me," I whisper.

"Why didn't you swerve, Annabeth, why didn't you try to avoid hitting it head-on?" Percy inquires.

I don't look at him when I answer because I can't stare into his intense sea-green eyes and tell the truth like this. "I didn't swerve, because I thought I had to coming to me," I murmur.

"Why?" he repeats. "Why not?"

I feel faint now, like I'm half asleep. I force myself to get this over with and answer so it can all end. "Because I'm a bad person," I mumble. "Bad people don't cheat, and lie, and trick those around them. Bad people don't deserve to live; they are not manipulative or prideful. They help others. They are honest and humble. Good people don't want to die because they have meaning in their life. They are not ungrateful towards their slow lives, and they are just good," I say. I know I'm rambling, but Percy's eyes glitter and I know he's pleased with my answer. "My parents never told me that actions have consequences, even if they're not sudden, they're through you're conscience."

"You even blame your parents for not teaching you a valuable lesson," Percy says lightly. He smiles kindly at me and gently squeezes my hand. I appreciate the gesture.

My eyes well with tears, which never ever happens. "See, I told you," I tell him, offering the tiniest of smiles in return.

Percy doesn't say anything else because what else is he supposed to say? I think of all the times I've wanted to die, of all the times I've wanted to be somebody else and I know why I feel that way. Because I wouldn't feel this way right now if I were like that.

But I'm not. They're my memories and no one else's and it's time I owned up to them. I may be lost, but not forgotten, never forgotten. These memories can shape my life if I allow them to. Not all my memories were bad, I know. Sometimes I felt happy and pleasured, sometimes I was carefree, even if only for a moment. But I know those memories weren't in the boxes because seeing them wouldn't help me understand who I am or what I need to be. They weren't the ones I needed to see. But a lot of times, I felt angry, petty, jealous, manipulative, and mean.

"So what else do those memories tell you?" Percy asks me.

I shake my head because I don't want to answer.

"What else?" Percy repeats, more forcefully this time and louder too.

"Nothing!" I scream out, my voice raw and painful. "They say nothing else!" I cry out.

"WHAT ELSE?" he yells and I want to hide because I know the answer, but I don't want to.

"That I'm okay!" I scream and it feels good to hear my strong voice once again.

"That I'm smart! That I've made a bunch of mistakes, but I'm only human! That people have wronged me but I have wronged myself too! That I can become a better person, I can stop drowning in a hole, I can allow the sunshine to hit my face, I can live my life out, and more. I am intelligent, and I don't need to cheat, and hide, and lie to be successful. I don't need to die. I can change what's bad and I can live because I deserve to live, I can be who I really am and I don't need to fake it anymore. I can build that building, I can show them all, I can do it all but it'll never happen if I die now. I have a long life ahead of me and my time's not up yet. I have a chance and I can't throw it away. Is that what you wanted to hear?" I ask him, not screaming anymore, but my voice is still loud now. I cannot be silenced. I feel strong.

Instead of answering, a faint blush rises on the high of Percy's cheeks. "Annabeth, do you know that you glow?"

I am wide awake now and I would probably laugh if I didn't feel so powerful now. "I... glow?" I ask him in surprise.

"I bet you if you told yourself you glow over and over again, you will have an entirely different experience and take on the world," Percy tells me, the blush fading, but a smile creeping up onto his face.

"If I even have a life, that is," I interrupt and he smiles like he knows something I don't.

"I'm going to tell you something, Annabeth. Our lives are shaped, not by the mistakes we've made, not by our pasts, but by our future and our present. We are not living back in the past, we can be whoever we want, we can do whatever we want if we have the will. We are not defined by all we've done. We are defined by what we choose to do every new time we're given a choice," Percy whispers, locking eyes with me.

He takes my hand and I feel a sparkle of energy. "So, not if, but when you are given the chance to do something differently, what will you do?" Percy inquires.

He's holding his breath, I can tell. I pause for a moment and then I answer. "I will swerve that car and I will continue on my path, no matter the obstacle that comes in front of me." He grins a little and I know I've answered correctly. I feel confident, and liberated, refreshed. I grin too and I think it's the only time I've ever felt alive, the entire time I've been in his presence. Percy holds my hand for some time, and then I feel the blue sky and puffy, cream clouds fading. I know it's time and I close my eyes, giving in.

But my journey is far from over.

•

I gotta say, the smell of disinfectant and too many cleaners have never felt more comforting then it does then. I see my step-mother, Margaret run out to get the doctor and then I see my other best friend, Thalia crying next to me. I don't even remember the last time I've seen her cry, or if I've ever seen her cry at all.

I thought Percy's hand would still be in mine, but it's not and he's not even in the room.

"Where's Percy, I mean the boy with the blood all over his face?" I ask.

Thalia wipes her nose on the sleeve of her jacket and laughs lightly. "They must've given you some good painkillers," she chuckles through her tears.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Just that I have absolutely no idea who you're talking about," Thalia tells me, brushing her tears away from her face.

"Huh? But he told me he saw you and he talked to you. He said you were actually pretty nice but a little scary," I tell her.

"Um, Annabeth, don't you think I'd remember if I met a guy with blood splattered all over his head?"

I sigh in defeat. "Pinch me."

"What?"

"Pinch me," I tell Thalia because I want to make sure I know what's real and what's not. I hope this is real because I missed Thalia a bunch when in Heaven, along with Piper, and even Margaret, my little brothers, and my Dad.

Thalia pinches me and I rub my arm.

"Ow!" I cry out.

"You said to pinch you!" she accuses.

"You didn't have to do it so hard," I say, but smile a little anyways. Because I like that this is real. "I'm glad I'm really here."

Thalia wrinkles her nose. "Where else would you be?"

"I could be anywhere," I tell her. "The Eiffel Tower, prom, third grade, Mrs. Vinson's room," I rattle off a few unique destinations.

Thalia blows her nose loudly. "You're not making any sense, 'beth," she tells me. "Try not to fall into any more comas," she says. "It was kinda scary and Piper was totally freaked. So did your parents and your brothers," she sniffles once more.

My parents come in now with the doctor who says I can go home in a few days and that I'm healed, but I'll have to stay in bed for a while. I don't mind because that's the best news I've heard in a while.

I take a look at them, and I mean really look at the two of them without any bias. My Dad looks tired and I wonder if he's slept at all and my step-mother's face looks paler and smaller. They appear older and smaller and they kiss my cheek and my forehead, and even my nose, but I love it anyways and I love them. I feel like I'm in a cheesy movie like "It's A Wonderful Life" or "The Christmas Carol" even though it's April, but it feels good to be near all of them. I wonder, absentmindedly, if Percy really was The Ghost of Christmas Past or Clarence even if he claimed he wasn't.

My Dad says that the first thing we're going to do when I ready to get out of bed again is go to the Merchant's House Museum for old time's sake and I nod and agree because I know that even if he isn't the best father ever, he's never stopped trying to be there for me, and protect me from the world because I've always been his little girl through it all. I just stopped caring or listening, but I listen now.

And my step-mother, Margaret tells me that she's going to take me to my favorite cupcake shop downtown and to the spa later, and I agree. Because I realize that by trying to fix me, she's really just trying to fix herself like she's always tried, but I love her anyways. Even if we're not related by blood, because she loves me too. Blood doesn't make a family. Thalia's my family too, and my step-brothers, and Piper, and I love them all so, so much. I hope they know and I think they do.

Thalia chides me about driving safer in the future and tells the man I ran into was a middle aged man, just driving carelessly and tells me he's paying for the hospital bill since it was his fault and he wanted to do something nice for me. She shows me the flowers he left on my bedside, and I think they're the second most beautiful things I've ever seen, besides my family and friends.

Margaret tells me that my dad and her are going home to get some rest and see that my brothers are asleep because Piper is babysitting them and she's sure they're causing some trouble like the mischievous little sweet devils they are. I wonder in the back of my mind, if that means that neither of them have slept at all, but this is all so overwhelming that I don't ask.

They kiss me goodbye and Thalia says she'll leave soon too, probably go help with my brothers because they've always liked her. They thank her and leave.

"I just wanted to tell you," Thals says, playing with the zipper on her jacket a little, "that I'm really really glad you're okay, Annie." Thalia hasn't called me Annie in forever but somehow I'm so happy to hear her call me that. I thank her and I'm about to tell her I really love her, when lo and behold, Percy walks in! Except there's no more blood and he has a bandage on his head. My heart pounds in my chest.

Percy waves to Thalia who smiles at him kindly. I'm glad she didn't scare him too bad.

"I thought you didn't know him," I tell Thalia, a little confused.

"You mean this guy?" Thalia raises an eyebrow. "He didn't have blood all over him like a murderer when I met him," she cracks a smile and it's contagious so I smile too.

"I had washed it off," Percy explains, and he sounds so familiar that it only makes me smile more. Thalia leaves and he comes and sits on the edge of my bed, looking a little concerned and worried. I cross my arms over my chest and give him a fake strict look.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," I tell him, causing him to swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing with his nervousness.

"I'm sorry," he says worriedly. "About pulling the plug on you. It wasn't hooked up to anything at all, but you looked so scared all of a sudden, and when you fell back into your coma, I felt really, really, super bad," he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he apologizes.

I just stare at him. "It wasn't hooked up to anything? Then why did I land up back in the architecture place?" I ask him.

Percy just shrugs. "Maybe you weren't done yet."

" I guess not," I say and we don't say anything for some time. The silence washes over us but it feels nice for once.

"Are you done now?" he asks me, his voice hopeful and I consider his question.

"I think I will be," I say finally and he nods. Percy reaches for my hand and holds it, and I feel the electricity crackle between our hands, just like in my coma dream. A nurse comes in after we've been sitting in silence for some time and tells him I need to rest, and eat, and that he can come back later. Percy nods and leaves, winking at me before he goes. I smile fondly to myself and I'll have to thank him later, even if it was some sort of dream version of him that helped me.

"How do you two know each other?" the nurse asks me, "you just woke up a little while ago."

I tell her that she wouldn't believe me even if I explained, so she just shrugs and leaves me with my tray of food.

On the top of the tray, is a card from Piper and Hazel and I forget all the things they said at prom, because I really do love them, and I'm going to be a better friend because they deserve better. And I think to myself that when I go home, I'm going to write down all the best parts of my life and my childhood. The moments where I wasn't jealous, or petty, or mean, or angry.

The best parts were when I was glowing.

When I was laughing with the boys smoking outside, or shopping with Piper, or watching a movie with Hazel, or trying to ride a motorcycle with Thalia who is so much better than me at it. When I was building a model airplane with my Dad, or when Margaret tried to teach me how to cook and she realized I was absolutely hopeless, so she just laughed and made me cupcakes. When my little brothers, Bobby and Matthew Chase, were trying to beat me in Candy Land, but I always won, or when I touched Percy's hand for the first time in that dream (or was it reality?). When I rode my bike to 7/11 and brought back back slushies for Thalia too, or when I was talking with Charlie because he really was a funny guy, or when I got into Rice University, or when I got my first apartment and my neighbor, Silena Beauregard came over for donuts when I moved in.

Because in those moments, I felt like I knew who I really was, and that jail cell I built around myself, those cement walls did not exist. Those walls are down.

And I can't see through walls.

---

A/N: Thank you so much for reading if you stuck with me through that whole thing! You guys are the best :)

Although I don't really recommend reading "Heaven Looks A Lot Like The Mall" (it was only an average book. Good, but not life-changing and I truly believe every book you read should ideally be life-changing), I think you should check out Wendy Mass' Willow Falls series. I remember I read them when I was younger in my pre-teen years, but I still love them very much and I enjoyed them a lot!

Go ahead and leave me a review below if you want to; reading them are one of my favorite things in the worlds haha. (Bonus points if you share what you think your Heaven would look like. I can't figure out what mine would look like and it's bothering me lol.)

I hope you enjoyed this! I know it wasn't super long or anything, but I hope it provided adequate entertainment.

Bye guys! Have a great rest of your day. :D