Not much I can say, really. I had the worst case of writer's block ever. I know you guys really wanted a chapter, and definitely deserved one, but I wasn't about to post something I didn't think was my best work and wasn't where the story was meant to go.

I've had more than a couple aggravated messages from people, and I truly apologize.

Apparently people were getting "impacient" about the four "mounths" wait.

Sorry, username I-don't-even-remember, but you definitely made me laugh, and your PM got me rollin'.

Ahhh, illiteracy ^_^

Anyways, I'm going to attempt to justify my absence. A) My free time has disappeared down a massive black hole. B) The holidays suck. C) Between juggling practice and games and getting to my boyfriend's basketball games, my creativity turned into lay-ups, dribbles and trying to get the poor stud to dunk.

Oh, there'll be more about the story after the chapter. I need to crush your hopes and dreams first.


"Oh for shame, how the mortals put the blame on us gods, for they say evils come from us, but it is they, rather, who by their own recklessness win sorrow beyond what is given…"

-Zeus from "The Odyssey" by Homer


"You killed me, Percy. You killed me. That makes this okay. It's okay. Because you killed me. You have this coming. It's your fault."

Michael flew up from his crouched position on the floor, hands fisting his hair. "Damnit, this is your fault! It's not mine!" His eyes were wide, face red.

Percy lay motionless at his feet. His nose was broken, the result of another useless session with Matt. His head throbbed in time with Michael's shouts. One eye was completely swollen shut, the other blinking at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he'd been there. Time had slipped through his fingers as easily as Michael lost control and started ranting to the air, to the walls, to nothing.

Every bone in Percy's body ached. He was trapped in this cage and there was no way out, and he hadn't seen the sun in days. He wanted natural light, something other than the harsh florescent light the naked bulb hanging above his head stabbed him in the eyes with.

The door slammed open, heavy footsteps plodding into the room. It was Matt, it was always Matt.

"You are an insufferable idiot! If you're going to be in here, why don't you make yourself useful and try and pulling something from him?" Matt shouted, his deep and throaty voice thrumming loudly in Percy's ears. Heaving shoulders bent his way, and Matt's face swung into his solitary field of vision. He smiled. "How's the guinea pig feeling today?"

Blood trickled down the back of Percy's throat.

Matt's dirty fingernails appeared above Percy for a moment before they dived down like an eagle attacking its prey, latching around his nose and wrenching it back and forth. Bone grated against bone and nerves reared up in protest. Percy lurched up from the ground, swatting at Matt's hand and squirming in agony.

"Stop, stop, stop!" he cried out.

He didn't blame Michael. He didn't. He couldn't. That'd be wrong. This was Matt.

The pain didn't stay isolated and spread throughout his body, igniting every hurt he felt. Percy wiggled helplessly, struggling to run away from it. Like he could get anywhere. The pressure was released and before he had time to fully appreciate the relief of pain, a foot drove into his side, stealing his breath away. Wheezing, gasping for air, Percy curled onto his side and slammed his head against the floor repeatedly.

Why wouldn't it stop? It had to stop. Someone had to come for him. Someone. Anyone. Someone to stop the pointless torture and to help Michael.

Percy wanted it to end.

Michael sprinted out the doorway.

Percy rolled his one eye. The guy didn't even have the courtesy to say goodbye.


"Michael, please. You have to stop it. Please, just make it stop. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. Just make it stop. I didn't mean to-. Ow, ow, fuck, stop it!"

Matt's hand wrapped around Percy's broken ankle and twisted again.

"Michael! I'm begging you, I'm begging you," Percy sobbed, "tell him to stop. Make him stop it." His breath caught in his throat. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear! Michael, please."

The pain rushed through his spine and his shook violently, jerking out of the grasp of Matt. The man swore angrily and grabbed Percy around the knees, pulling him backwards. Percy reacted on impulse and kicked, catching Matt in the eye. Falling backwards, Matt slapped a hand over his face and roared, "God damnit! Michael, get the fucking cattle prod!"

Percy lay shivering against the ground, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, watching Michael.

Michael stared dumbly for a moment at Percy, before Matt yelled again, "Now, you fucking idiot! Now! I'm done with this!" Michael jumped and ran out the doorway.

Apparently recovered from the foot to the face, Matt leaned over Percy and spit on his cheek. "This could all be over if you just told me how to resurrect Kronos. It could all be over. I'd let you go. But you won't, so this continues! And it'll continue until you tell me! Until you die, Percy! Until you die. I'll keep you alive. You'll waste away in here. No one will ever find you. No one. That precious girlfriend of yours will fuck someone else and get married. Your friends will move on. Your insufferable father will forget his rat of a son. They'll all forget you and you'll be alone."

"Alone, Percy! Alone!" Matt shouted. His fist rocketed Percy's face to the side.

More than dazed, Percy closed his one eye and let it come. Matt's boots stained his side, his legs, his head. A rib cracked. An ear popped. Warm blood trickled through his fingers. Lips split. Skin tore. Welts rose.

Percy was seconds away from unconsciousness when Matt and Michael started arguing. Michael quiet and resistant, Matt angry and forceful.

Matt won, he always won.

Knobby knees crouched next to Percy. Shaking hands held the rod, the end glowed a brilliant red. Percy knew what was coming; God, he knew.

His eyes were wet as he looked up at Michael. They leaked down his face. Blood matted his hair to his forehead and cheek.

"Michael, don't," he whispered, begged. "Don't do it."

Michael swallowed, blanching at the sight of Percy's wounds. They were everywhere. He was leaking blood like a fucking faucet.

"You can't do it, Michael," Percy whined. "You can't. I didn't mean to hurt you and you know it."

Matt stepped on his broken ankle, and Percy stopped talking, a silent scream echoing over his features.

Michael closed his eyes and wielded the rod.

"You don't understand, Percy. I have to."

Percy's skin melted like hot butter, and he passed out with a voiceless glance at Michael. The hopeless despair was so tangible, and Michael could smell the distinct stench of burning flesh in the air; he crawled like a wounded animal to the corner and threw up everything he'd eaten that day.


"I hate you."

Michael inhaled harshly through his nose, closing his eyes and shutting off his sight.

"You deserve this. You tried to kill me, and you deserve this. I lost everyone because of you. Everyone. You deserve this."

Percy couldn't breathe right and his tears burned hot and they kept leaking and his chest kept heaving and Michael just sat there and fuck, he was losing it. His hands were shaking and he was curled into the smallest ball possible and it wasn't helping anything and why did everything have to hurt so badly?

"You killed me, damnit, you hurt me!"

Percy tried to breathe slowly, control the pain, but a sharp stab in his lungs had him gasping for air, whimpering in agony.

Michael was losing it, too.

"It's all your fault!" Michael screamed, rocking on his knees.

Percy coughed weakly, adrenaline pulsing through his veins when he a felt a sticky wetness cover his lips. This wasn't good. None of this was good.

Michael yelled from where he was kneeling by Percy's side, slamming his fist into Percy's thigh.

"No," Percy croaked, angry. "It's yours." An empty sob escaped. He hated it. "It's your fault. You did this to yourself. You should've let it go. I hate you. You're going to hell, I swear. The Underworld, whatever the fuck you want to call it." He halted, running out of air and composure. He inhaled raggedly and the tears keep sliding and sliding and he keeps crying and crying. "You're gonna go to hell," he sobbed. "And they're going to punish you, because this is wrong and you know it. They're going to stick you in the Fields of Punishment and you're going to burn forever. They're going to do the same shit you've done to me, I swear. This is wrong and—fuck!" he stopped cryingyellingscreamingbegging to grab his ankle, the broken one. "I hope you die," he rasped. "And I hope it hurts. I hate you. This isn't revenge, this is evil. You're evil." Tears kept rolling down his bloodstained cheeks. His chest was heaving with sobs. "You're doing the same thing you think I did to you to me.

"I didn't kill you that day, Michael." Percy shook. "You died the day you captured me."

The pain in his spine and his ankle and the burns and his nose and his bruises and his head all rolled up and hit him at the same time. Percy groaned, completely empty, completely gone, and curled on his side away from Michael.

"You won," Percy whispered, voice breaking, hugging his arms to his chest.

Michael got up and stumbled out the doorway.


Percy started to lose track of things after that day. Or maybe it was at night. How was he supposed to know? Everything began to slide into a dark mess of pain. He wasn't aware enough to respond to Matt's questions, his tactless torture plans.

Percy was waiting for the day Matt snapped and finally killed him. That's what he wanted. Percy wanted to die more than anything. And that was strange, considering he'd spent a good five years of his life struggling to stay alive.

The most he could do was look at Michael. He watched him. He watched Michael disappear right in front of him. He watched the madness in his eyes. He watched him lose weight, turn grey. Revenge could do that to you. One time Michael gave him water. He didn't say a word, just jammed it against his lips and let him drink.

Matt found out and dislocated Michael's thumb.

Percy was floating in a haze of fiery pain when a hand shook his shoulder. Michael's face floated above him.

"It's a drug. It'll make you sleep. For a long time."

The syringe drifted from Percy's blurred viewpoint and the needlepoint slid into his arm.

"It won't hurt so bad."

Percy blinked sluggishly. "Yeah?" he croaked, voice empty.

Michael shook his head. "Yeah."

"I'd rather die," he slurred, stumbling, pushing through the truth.

Everything went black.


Percy was burning. He was on fire. It was hot. Everywhere. Everybody was burning. His brain was sizzling and melting into a useless puddle. Fire raced up and down his smoking spine. There was no escaping the heat. Flames licked his eyes, dried out his mouth, cracked his ears. He wanted out. He wanted cold. He wished for water and acid rain burned holes in the sky, in his skin. Why was it so hot? Someone set him on fire. Lit a match and ignited his world.

He lay on the ground in a twitching ball, hands shook his shoulders, touched his head, felt his skin. Worried, angry, pained voices hovered above him. There was nothing they could do. Maybe they could do something and weren't. Maybe they were letting him suffer.

"He's…burning up…why can't he wa—…your fault…"

A panicked female voice washed out the others.

"Nothing…can do…carry him…get….the ground…"

Hands rolled him onto his back, spoke into his ear. Arms gathered him from the floor, pulling limp muscles off the ground.

"Percy…love…everything…okay."


"Are we going to kill him?"

"What? No! He hasn't given us anything yet!"

"Well, he's not now. He's been unconscious for days. That shit you gave him did its job. Why don't we just kill him? That's what I wanted. That's what I came to you for. End it now. He's worthless."

Arms shoving, back hitting concrete wall, head thudding, breath scraping against tight throat. Lying mouth.

"You starting to regret this, Mike? After that son of a bitch almost killed you? You want to put him out of his misery?"

Incredulous snort. Disbelief. Scorn.

"I-I just want to be done. Move on. Percy Jackson doesn't mean shit to anyone. We kill him, that whole fucking camp goes in mourning, and I have my revenge. "

Angry voice rising in volume.

"I'm not done with him yet!"

Deep breath. Gathering air, courage.

"He doesn't know anything! Matt, don't you get it, he doesn't know anything! Jesus Christ, I ripped off all his fingers nails, you broke his nose, snapped his ankle, burned holes into his side, and he didn't say a word. The bastard wants to die! Either he's insane and doesn't have a shed of self-preservation, or he just doesn't know a fucking thing!"

Smoldering eyes. Tension sitting in the air. Tangible indecision.

"Fine. You want him dead? Kill him. Dispose of the body. You kill him, Michael. All by yourself. You don't kill him, fine by me. I keep him."

Hesitation. Trepidation. Fear.

"What do I do it with?"

Empty laugh.

"I don't have a gun. Use your hands." Long pause. "You don't have enough balls to do this, Mike. You can't do it."

Even bigger laugh.

"Percy Jackson isn't going to die, because you can't do it."

Silence.

"You're a coward."


"It's been two days, Apollo. He hasn't even opened his eyes!"

Stillness. Warmth. Empty. Alone. Voices.

People.

Dripping water. Cold on his forehead. Arms under sheets. Head on pillows. Hair poking his eyelids. Someone brushing it away. Fingertips on his cheek, on his skin.

Falling falling falling.

It's black.

"Percy….okay…we're…-aiting."

Damaged. Not wanted. No one came. Why are people still around? They don't want him. No one wanted him at all. No one.


I changed up the format for this chapter, sorta. Shorter than I normally write. But the next will be longer. It was choppy to reflect the fragmented frame of mind Percy's in. He's going through flashbacks of sorts; he's not going to be one after the other organized.

WELL. Been a while, boys and girls. Probably mostly girls. But if you're a guy and reading, you get yourself a cookie. I have a week off, so that means I'm going to be writing the whole time, mostly on this. I don't want to do the same thing to you guys again. I can't really say it's hard to find time, because there's enough time, I just couldn't write. At all.

I do hope you forgive me. :) And I won't do this again. This ball is just gettin' a rollin'.

WOW. I gotta say thanks for the reviews. With all the author alerts and story alerts and reviews about updating, I hope I get a bajillion of them. It's kinda depressing when you update after awhile and no one cares ;( Alas, beggars can't be choosers.

Thanks for reading. And check back in a couple days :)