Dedicated to Justin Tsang. A friend who brought me out of everything. A friend who taught me that being different may even be something good. The 'her' in this story is based off me; and the 'he' in this story is based off Justin.
Just because she was different didn't mean she enjoyed being pushed around and taunted at. Just because she was different doesn't mean she had to be the cast away and be forced to endure all the pain outside and inside.
No one understood her- no one ever bothered to. Just because she had Aspergers, just because she had Bipolar Disorder, and just because she was shy doesn't mean she doesn't try her best to socialize and try and fit in to that camp.
Being a half-blood itself is already harder for her than anyone- it had came as a big shock that knocked the air out of her lungs and sent her confused and tattered in her thoughts.
It was because of her being a demigod that her mother was killed while protecting her from harm. It was because she was a demigod that her brother had to be so over-protective of her and get crest-fallen when she was required to come to this stupid camp. It was because she was a half-blood that her sisters had to tease her and hate her because she was the 'bad luck charm'.
But she tolerated all of those and lived on- she kept her tantrums under control, she restrained herself from wanting to push those people away, she did everything she could until all her emotions were wiped away and replaced by a façade, a Poker face that masked away everything.
To them she was the girl that was ignored. She was the girl that was hated. She was the girl that was invisible. She was the girl that simply didn't exist.
To her she was the girl that sucked at everything. She was the girl that was useless. She was the girl that deserved all these things because she had caused her family misery and pain.
She prayed to the gods each night- a different god each time because the gods didn't bother to claim her. Maybe it was a coincidence that she wasn't claimed (after all, she is only eleven), or perhaps it was because even the gods thought that she was just another demigod that needed no second thought.
Mysterious. Quiet. Solemn. Shy. Useless. That about sums her whole personality- at least the part that everyone wants to believe it is. No one gave her a chance to explain why she had hurt one of the campers during a sword fight the night before she got into camp. No one gave her a chance to talk about her life and how it hurt her to bear all the pressure and confusion on her shoulders. No one gave her a chance to express her feelings on how painful it was to see your mom die and know it's all your fault. No one… no one…
She smiled slightly and nodded whenever Chiron came over and asked how she was doing. Every time that Poker face was there. Every time those lies were set ready at the tip of her tongue. Every time it was just another 'last time'.
She was a longer, a cast away, and a nobody. Sitting. Eating. Breathing. Walking. Training. That about sums her life up.
It was like that day after day, month after month- so uneventful and boring, so simple and hurtful- until he came.
To her, he was her savior. To her, he was the person who understood. To her, he was the one that let her see her true self. To her, he was the one that added colors to her life. To her, he was the one who tuned the strings that pulled her life together. To her, he was everything- the one she loved, the one she trusted.
She loved him, loved him dearly, just like a brother. She loved her real brother too, but she never really trusted him, she never really knew what love was. She had loved him because he was her brother. There wasn't a difference between the love and misery she felt when she thought of her sisters than the times when she thought about her brother's warm hands, maybe except that she could feel the slight warmth and comfort when the kind and gentle face surfaced in her mind. But at that time, she was small, and her brother did that, she knew deep inside, from duty- it wasn't for her, he didn't truly love her, he did it for mom, the mom that she had caused the death of.
She slowly, gradually opened up. She poured her feelings out to him, and he listened. He seem to know when she would stop and wait for a response, as he always readily commented or comforted her. He always knew what to say- even when they were harsh or strict, they sounded like music to her ears.
Even though he was harsh on her, telling her and making her get out of her 'trance' and getting into the real world- it was hard, he knew, but he also was positive that without being harsher, it was impossible to change her. And change her he did.
With him, she smiled, she laughed (a laugh that he would give anything to hear again), she talked, she was a normal and sweet girl. With him, she knew who she was, she felt important, necessary.
Sometimes, she'll walk out into the camp and train with the others. Now, she no longer was the cast away, even though she still didn't have much friends, no one would veer out of her way as if she had some disease. Some would volunteer and train with her, some would even speak a few words or so with her, but they knew better than to mess with her. Because she was his. He guarded her, he protected her, he loved her, but most importantly he trusted her.
He knew she could do it- he believed in her. And that gave her courage- the courage to start a new life, the courage to stand up and face her pains and problems, the courage to do things that she never thought she could do, the courage to try out new things/risks, even though sometimes it brought back painful memories, but she knew he would be there for her when she cries.
And then she got sick- terribly sick. She was in a battle and she had saved his life, she was mortally harmed and they both knew there was no way out. She had one more month, but that was enough. She had found her place in the world, she had seen who she is, she had understood her doubts, she had met the person she truly loved and trusted, and on top of all that, she still had one month to say good bye before she died- she was satisfied.
Pain- she fought it. Sadness- she controlled it. Fear- she held I back. Grief- she fought, controlled, held with all her will, but at last she failed.
She cried, she sobbed and whispered to the wind at night. She thought no one could hear her but the wind did. It brought her grief, gratefulness, love and trust to him through his dreams and he understood and felt honored. He respected her even more after that, but he was overwhelmed with grief, disabling him from feeling happy and bright.
It was a surprise to both of them when the campers, one by one, came into the infirmary and paid their respects, most of them apologized and asked to become friends with her. To most, it may be mocking to make friends with someone who is at Death's door, but to her, she accepted and felt grateful. She smiled more than she ever did in her short lifetime and she felt great.
She forgot her pain, and spent the happiest days of her life before she died.
Before she died, she held onto one thought and went into a peaceful slumber- It was him.
Those three words were enough to express everything. It was him that gave her life, it was him that gave her happiness, it was him that gave her love, it was him that gave her trust, it was him…
"Wait for me little one." He whispered to the wind. And the wind seemed to reply him, "I know, I know."
And he craved the similar three words on her grave and swore to meet her in Elysium where they both were sure to end up at. And he trusted her to wait for him, no matter how long it may take.
"It was her."
A/N: Cover design done by Cindella204, a great, caring friend and awesome writer