Kiss of Death Chapter 2: Same Mistakes
Lynn
I really don't see why Scott got so mad. He had to have known that I wouldn't have broken his spear on purpose. But, as usual, when Scott got mad, he got physical.
And it didn't help that when I was running from my psychotic boyfriend, I ran into Nico. He was nearly as scary as Scott himself, and I hadn't even seen him face-to-face before. I didn't even make a good first impression, though.
It wasn't like me to be so rude—unless I had a reason—and I almost felt bad. But di Angelo could dish it out as well as he could take it, so I figured he was fine, unlike me, because I was trying ot escape my boyfriend.
I held my breath as I hid in the branches of a maple tree. If I disregarded the fact that I was doing this to avoid my raging boyfriend, I really didn't have to worry, seeing as I was a friend of the dryad that lived in the tree. I saw Scott's shadow pass under the tree and I hoped that somehow I looked like a bunch of leaves.
Scott was this son of Ares that had come a few months earlier. When we first met at the archery range, there was an immediate attraction between the two of us. He'd been so sweet and funny, which I didn't expect from someone so masculine. There had been a few times where we'd sneak away from the campfire just to go down to the beach and look at the constellations.
Everything had been great before it all went downhill.
The first time he ever got angry with me was when Connor Stoll got a little too handsy when he congratulated me after capture the flag. Scott had gripped my arms so tight that it felt like all my blood vessels were popping. I remember the crazed look in his eyes as he screamed at me that I was cheating on him and that I was such a whore. But the next day he acted like nothing was wrong and was even sweeter than before, so I figured that it was okay, even if I had hand-shaped bruises on my upper arms.
The first time he hit me was when I got mad at him for tormenting a new camper from Demeter. I still remember the shock and betrayal that I felt when his hand actually collided with my face. Regardless of the fact that he really hit me and that my cheek would be bruised in at least a couple of hours, Scott hugged me and apologized profusely, tearing up and saying that he didn't mean it and that he loved me and didn't want me to leave.
I didn't want to be alone, so I stayed with him. And I didn't want him doing this to anyone else, so that really was my only option.
But it kept happening, and for stupid reasons, like choosing to hang out with Will and Jane instead of him and forgetting to save him a seat at the campfire. As it kept happening more and more, he apologized less and less. I eventually resigned to the fact that this was my fate.
My eyes shut tight as he stepped back into my view. "I can see you," he growled and my heart dropped into my churning stomach. This was the worst of my slip-ups, and I didn't know if my healing powers could fix this one. Last time had been risky enough. Danni and Dylan had almost told Chiron. I had to beg them not to
He climbed up the branches and I didn't even try to struggle because I knew it was useless. I shuddered when Scott's voice breathed into my ear, "That was a big mistake." My eyes shut again, and a few tears sneaked out in the process.
He grabbed my arm and made sure I hit every branch, every twig before landing on the ground. I groaned, trying to turn over onto my back, but he was already there, his foot swinging forward to kick me in the chest. A strangled cry wrenched itself from my chest and I slid back a couple feet.
Scott leaned down and grabbed my face harshly. "Gods, you're so stupid," he hissed, then his fist came into view, headed right for my face.
I could tell you more, but then it wouldn't be very pretty.
I moaned in pain as I sat up—attempted to—after Scott had left. Everything hurt—my legs, my chest, my heart. Trying to assess the damage that had been done was no easy task, seeing as I could hardly move, but I managed. I thought that my ankle might have been broken, but I only knew what a broken rib felt like. It was like I had been buried under a ton of bricks.
What had I done for the gods to punish me like this? I knew that I wasn't the greatest girlfriend, but did I really deserve this kind of treatment? Scott always said that I did.
I wanted to muster up the last ounce of dignity that I had left to get up and walk back to my cabin, knowing that I could probably fix myself up there, but whenever I attempted to get off the forest floor, red dots danced around in my vision. Pinching myself hard, I thought, No, you will not pass out! You don't want to give him the satisfaction.
So I laid there and waited, not really caring if some monster came for me.
I had even heard the horn blow for dinner, but I wasn't really thinking about food. I just wanted to be found, regardless of the fact that my secret would be completely exposed. I just wanted the pain to stop already.
It soon became cool, it started sprinkling, which I found odd. I tried to stay awake, but I was just so tired. After what felt like hours, I let myself succumb to the darkness.
My eyes felt like they were cemented shut, but eventually they fluttered open.
Where was I?
Everything in my vision was fuzzy, like I severely needed glasses. I shifted my position, squinting around the room until my vision finally came into focus. There was a line of cots up and down both sides of the room. A familiar-looking guy–maybe we were on the same capture-the-flag team—was sitting in the cot next to mine. Then it finally occurred to me where I was.
The camp's infirmary. If I thought about it, was kind of ironic, really—usually I was tending to wounded campers, not the other way around.
The guy—I couldn't think of his name—was still sitting there, observing me. It was weird and I started to squirm under his intruding gaze. I knew who he was, though; I just couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was that I had seen him. He reminded me of someone, with his dark hair and dark clothes. What was his name?
He met my eyes and I held his gaze. I found it weird that he was the only person here when I had plenty of brothers and sisters that were probably concerned.
Probably.
It was almost as if he was actually worried about my wellbeing. This kid whose name I couldn't even remember was at my bedside. Gods, he looked so familiar.
That's when everything clicked together. He was Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. I felt stupid. Everyone knew who he was, so why did I all of a sudden just blank on who he was?
Then I remembered how I treated him earlier that day and wondered why he had brought me back to the infirmary when I had been such a bitch.