I'm back! Here's chapter 8, so sorry it took so long. I just got back from vacation, so I can hopefully go back to my routine of updating once a week. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review! I love to hear from you guys, and I reply to them all!
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Saiyarra Atlante: No need to apologize. I don't care when you read it, I'm just glad that you do! Thank you so much for reviewing!
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Emmatallulah: Thank you! I'm glad you like it. And yeah, a lot of people tell me I write like I'm older. I'm the youngest in my family, so that probably has something to do with it. Thank you again!
Hestia
"Need a hand with that?" A voice asks, as I pull on Fireblaze's girth. He puffed out his stomach when I put it on in the stall, and I fell off as soon as we got out to the track to practice.
"No, Ares, I've got it all under control," I tell him, yanking ruthlessly upward and trying to connect the buckles with the hanging leather straps.
"You sure? You look like you could use some help," He says, dropping down off Warrior's back.
"I've got it, Ares," I repeat, more firmly this time, still not meeting his gaze. Wordlessly, he pushes me aside, his touch still sending shivers up my spine. Stop it, I reprimand myself, he's been nothing but horrible to you, and you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who, lately, only has eyes for Athena. Ares pulls on the girth, and Fireblaze grunts his disapproval.
"Remember how happy we were?" Ares asks nonchalantly, still pulling on the girth. I don't reply. "I mean, we didn't have any drama. Dionysus and Hephaestus took fourteen years to come to terms with their homosexuality, Apollo and Athena had sex at that party, and don't even get me started on Artemis and Hermes. And then there was us. No drama. We were just happy."
"And then you cheated," I mutter. He sighs.
"And then I cheated." He hands me the reins, then offers me a leg up. I comply, and he wraps his hands around my leg. My breath catches in my throat again, and I make a slight gasping noise. "Are you okay?" He asks, hoisting me into the saddle.
"Yeah," I reply hastily, cheeks burning, "I'm-I'm fine." He shrugs and swings back up into Warrior's saddle, and we start plodding along the track, warming our horses up with a lap around.
"You know, when I asked Aphrodite-"
"Stop," I mutter, not wanting to think about it.
"-it didn't mean anything. Hestia, I wanted to ask you. But we had this stupid bet going about who could get a date first, and I thought you'd say no." My heart seems to stop for a moment. A bet? That's all it was? Just a bet turned me into a self-hating bulimic?
"I was about to ask you," I tell him quietly, "and then I saw you ask her." We're silent for a moment as we plod along.
"I'm sorry." More silence follows this. I remember telling myself, Hestia, no amount of "I'm sorry" will fix this. You have to show him he can't just treat you like dirt and expect everything to be okay. But now, as I look into his eyes, it seems like he really is sorry. And he's only human-well, okay, he's a god-and everyone makes mistakes! I should know that firsthand, I'm bulimic. I take a deep breath.
"Look, Ares, I'm with Apollo now. And I'm really happy," I tell him earnestly.
"Okay," He says, "that's good. That's all I ever wanted for you." A pause. "But are you?"
"Am I what?" I question.
"Happy. And I mean really happy, Hestia," He answers. I pause for a moment, thinking.
"I-yeah, I think so," I reply, with less certainty than I should.
"Alright, then," He says, "That's that." He rides closer to me, our legs so close they touch. My heart hammers in my chest, no matter how many times I tell it to stop. Then he cups my face with one hand, turns it to face his, and presses his lips against mine. I don't pull back. And I hate myself.
"What are you doing?" I cry, once he breaks away.
"Hestia, I-" He begins. I shake my head.
"Why do you always screw things up for me?!" I demand angrily. But that anger is more directed at myself, because I didn't push him away. I did what I swore I'd never do; I cheated. How could I? How could I do that to Apollo? He's been nothing but sweet and loving and completely selfless, helping me with my bulimia and forgiving me this summer after I really screwed up.
"Look, Hestia, I'm so sorry," He stammers.
"Ares, I think you just need to give me some time." I tell him, as calmly as I can. He nods, looking heartbroken.
"As much time as you need," He replies, staring at me with eyes that scream apologies.
"Just-just leave me alone. You need to get out of my life," I grind out, hating myself for saying it but knowing it's for the better. He looks at me with disbelief, but complies. With that, I turn Fireblaze around and gallop back towards the starting point, tears pouring down my face.
The next day, during Hungarian,I can't bring myself to look Apollo in the eye as he sits down beside me, smiling. He greets me, and I reply hurriedly, pretending to be very interested in the many initials carved into my desk.
"Are you okay?" He asks worriedly. I feel a rush of anger, aimed towards myself, at his worry. Look how nice he is to you, I reprimand myself, and what do you do to pay him back?
"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, still not meeting his gaze, "I'm just...really nervous to get that test back." Apollo furrows his brow.
"What test?" Dread fills me as I realize we've just started a new unit on transition words, and won't have another test to get back for a week.
"Um, I don't know, what test were you talking about?" I fumble, blushing. He quirks an eyebrow.
"I wasn't."
"Right! So, what test weren't you talking about?" I laugh nervously, my face turning redder than Persephone's hair.
"Hestia, are you sure you're okay?" He presses. I flash an uncomfortable smile, and nod furiously.
"Yup! I'm totally fine! I'm just...uh...really tired. Didn't get much sleep last night. I was...uh, reading," I fabricate. He nods, seemingly convinced (or not caring enough to press it any farther). Then he turns to talk to Athena, and I see our relationship crumbling before our eyes. My heart speeds up, remembering the pain it felt when I broke up with Ares. I spent so many nights crying and so many days a mere lifeless shadow of who I used to be. Part of me wants to slide into Apollo's lap and kiss him all over and salvage what's left of our love, not because I truly love him, but because I don't want to feel the pain of losing him.
Hungarian, which is generally one of my favorite classes due to how beautiful the language sounds, cannot hold my interest for more than a few minutes today. My mind strays to the kiss, then to Apollo, then to Ares explaining about the bet. I'm caught in between two boys; one who I truly love and one I would hate myself for leaving. Verb conjugations go in one ear and out the other as I fight an internal battle.
The class wears on until, finally, the bell rings. We make our way out into the buzzing hallway, excitement high amongst us. We're not headed to another class, we're going to the clubs fair. Which, as we've been told by those upperclassmen uncool enough to converse with freshman, will define us for the rest of our high school years.
Artemis
"Middle school was about fitting in under the general label. High school is about finding your own," Hymen tells us wisely. He's a junior, handsome, and a running back on the football team, so he's fairly popular. But, for some reason, he's adopted us, more or less. I have a feeling that reason might be Athena. "The clubs fair is where you get your label," He says, gesturing to the many tables around us. "For instance, computer geeks can join the programming and robotics club-" He takes us past a table full of whirring and clicking machines. Upon catching sight of a robot greeting all those walking past, Hephaestus nearly jumps on the table. "-and those who want to be deemed losers for the rest of their existence can join the juggling society." He points to a table in the far corner that everyone seems to be avoiding. Two boys in button-up shirts and bow-ties are juggling colorful scarves, trying to draw attention to their club. I almost feel bad for them, but there's no way I'm joining the juggling society. "Alright," Hymen says, "off you go. Find your label!"
And so we disperse. Athena is immediately drawn to a table sporting a sign that says, "Math Club: Discover The Genius of 1+1!", while Dionysus goes back and forth between, "Shakespearean Literature League: To Be, or Not To Be?" and, "Gay-Straight Alliance: Love is Love!". Apollo is signed up for the theatre club in two seconds flat, and girls fawn over Ares's arms by the weight-lifting club's table. I see Aphrodite signing up for the "Fabulous Fashion Fellowship", while a boy from the poetry club commends the fashion fellowship's representative on her fine use of alliteration. Persephone joins the gardening club, wowing the two representatives by making flower wreaths out of thin air. As for me, I roam around, searching for a club that catches my eye.
That's when I see a table in a corner, opposite the juggling society. A girl in a green shirt passes out flyers to anyone who happens to be walking by. Her straight, brown hair is pulled back in a neat, low ponytail, and her blue eyes peek out from behind simple, wire glasses. Curious, I walk over.
"What's this?" I ask.
"This is the community service club," The girl says. "I'm Dike, goddess of justice. It's a pleasure to meet you." She seems warm and friendly, but her hard, blue eyes show that she's a force to be reckoned with. She has a fierce determination about her that shows she's willing to fight for what she believes is right.
"Artemis," I reply. "So, what does the community service club do?"
"Last year, we went down to the mortal world and brought food to starving peasants," She tells me, "this year, we're focusing more on Olympus. We're going to the mental hospital, meeting with the patients, talking to them, and just trying to make their lives better."
"I'll do it," I tell her. She smiles, handing me the sign-up sheet.
"You said your name is Artemis, right?" She asks, while I scribble my name on the list. I nod. "Well, no offense, but I thought you would've joined the archery club or something. Why this?" I smile, handing her back the clipboard.
"I have a friend who was a patient in that hospital," I explain, "I think he'd like that I'm doing this. He would've wanted to." She gives me a warm, sincere smile.
"Hermes," She says, "I heard about that." A bit of frustration at the fact that everyone seems know everything about us wells up inside me, but I force myself to ignore it. Dike wasn't trying to be rude, she was trying to keep up conversation.
"Yeah," I reply, "it was pretty rough. But he's a lot better now, as far as I know." Dike looks surprised. "What?" I ask.
"Nothing, it's just-Well, I thought he was dead," She admits.
"Dead?" I echo.
"I mean, you said he would have wanted to do this, and I heard about that suicide attempt, so I just thought-"
"No, no, no!" I cut her off, "He's not dead, he just transferred schools!" A look of relief washes over Dike's face.
"Oh, well that's great. So, community service club meets..." As she's speaking, a sharp pain spreads across my left wrist in a straight line. There's a short pause, then another pain starts, directly below where the first one was. The web.
"Um, I, uh, I have to go. See you later!" I cut her off. I spot Apollo staring at his wrist in confusion, and grab him by the arm as I bolt for the door. We run out into the thankfully deserted hallway, and by this time, I've lost count of the times I've felt sharp stinging pain across my wrist. "What's going on?" I demand.
"I have no idea," He mutters. I stare intently at my wrist, and that's when I see it.
"Look!" I cry, holding my arm up for him to see. Across my wrist are nine pinky-white lines, five paler ones at the top that look like old scars, and four newer ones. Another is red as it appears, then slowly fades to pinkish. He furrows his brow, before glancing down at his own wrist and seeing ten similar lines. "Apollo," I mutter nervously, "what are these?" He shakes his head.
"I have no idea," He replies, "but something is really, really wrong."
Hermes
"...and then I flew into the tree, and killed it!" Flora gasps and giggles with excitement as I finish recounting the tale of Macey Malone. She makes a wonderful audience, oohing and aahing in all the right places.
"That's so cool! I wish I could kill monsters," She gushes, scooping up a pile of horse poop and shoveling it into my wheel barrow. Again, I've been given the job of mucking the trails. Luckily, Flora decided to help. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Brightwood is great!" She adds hastily, "It's just, I've been riding my whole life. There's never been another option. From the day I was born I was told I would learn to ride, I would compete, I would win, and I would get in to Brightwood in sixth grade." She shrugs, "And I've been here ever since." I'm silent for a moment, trying to think of what to say, and she sighs. "I guess I sound pretty unappreciative."
"No, not at all!" I assure her, "I mean, you know what they say; The grass is always greener on the other side. There are times when I wish I could put down my sword and just eat chips." She laughs.
"That was beautiful," She tells me sarcastically, "very insightful."
"Thanks," I reply, "I try." She smiles, her eyes trained on the ground.
"You know," She says softly, "I don't think you're crazy." I don't reply. She waits for a moment, then keeps talking. "And when I found you screaming at the wind, I didn't think you were talking to nobody. You were talking to that girl your Uncle told us about, right? Jane?"
"Yeah," I mutter, "Jane."
"What happened to her?" Flora asks.
"She died," I answer simply.
"How?" Flora presses.
"It's complicated," I sigh. "I mean, she sort of killed herself, but-Well, I'm not going to get into that."
"And you still hear her in the wind?" Flora asks. I nod. "That's not crazy," She says. "That's beautiful."
"That's really sweet of you to say, Flora," I tell her, "but you don't have to lie to me. It's pretty crazy." She shakes her head.
"It's not," She says firmly, shoveling more poop into the wheelbarrow. Then she takes a deep breath. "Hermes, I, uh, I really like you," She says, all in a rush. I quirk an eyebrow.
"Um, thanks, Flora. I like you too...?" I reply, confused. She shakes her head.
"No, I mean, I really like you. As more than a friend."
"Oh." That's all I can say. As I look into her eyes, big, blue, and hopeful, I can't bring myself to let her down. She looks at me with complete adoration, yet a hint of uncertainty. But what can I do? I like her, sure, but as a friend. Nothing more. I went down this road with Persephone, and it didn't end well. The whole time we were dating, I pretended she was Artemis. Generally, when you're picturing your girlfriend as someone else, it's not a particularly healthy relationship. "Look, Flora, you're a really nice girl," I begin. She nods, smile growing. "And you're really, really pretty." A blush creeps across her pale ivory skin. "And you're the only one that hasn't called me 'That Little Freak', which is really nice." I cringe at how happy she looks, knowing what I have to tell her. "And, Flora, any guy would be lucky to have you." Her smile falters. "It's just..." I can't do it. "...um...you don't want me! I mean, Flora, my life is a total mess right now, and I really need to sort it out, and I don't think you wanna get involved in that." She shakes her head.
"Hermes, I don't care!" She replies, "I'll help you!" I sigh, exasperated.
"No, no, Flora, look: I have a girlfriend." She seems to deflate, her shoulders drooping, her head falling, and her eyes looking at me with pure disbelief and sadness. "But we can still be friends, right?" I add hastily.
"I'm sorry," She chokes tearfully, "that was out of line. I mean, I barely know you, and I-I'm so sorry, Hermes. I hope you two are really happy." With that, she drops the pitchfork and starts running back towards the entrance to the trail, face buried in her hands.
"Wait, Flora!" I shout after her. She either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore me. Either way, she keeps running, and I watch her until she rounds the bend and disappears from view. "Fuck," I mutter to myself. As I continue to shovel poop into the wheelbarrow, I find it impossible to shake the image of her devastated face from my hands. Another awful memory, I think grimly to myself. Memories are always the worst when they're fresh, when you know they aren't distorted, and that's exactly what happened. I can hear her tears, I can see that little, hopeful light going out in her eyes. I did that.
Before I know it, I'm back in the bathroom in Aether's and my dorm. The razor is in my hand and her face is in my head, only this time, I can picture her telling me, "Do it. Feel the pain I felt." And I do it. I draw two straight lines on my wrist in dark, red paint. Then more memories of the horrible things I've done flood my mind, and three more lines appear. Sharp pain rings out with each one, but it's a good pain. I need to feel it. My life is falling to pieces. I need this, to keep me sane.
When I'm done, ten lines adorn my wrist. Five still bloody and crying out with pain, five sitting idle, reminders of the last time. Two for Flora, when she told me she liked me and I couldn't tell her the same. Two for Jane, when she died and I could have saved her. Two for Persephone, when she trusted me with her love and I kissed Artemis. Two for my mother, when she came home and found my bloodstains on the carpet to be the only evidence that I'd ever been there. And two for Artemis, when my hand came sweeping across her face.
It's funny how quickly we go from the happiest kind of happy to the saddest kind of sad.
