Remember that whole "update every month" thing? Lol. Anyways, I'm back for a bit. Enjoy the next chapter you bags of sweaty moth balls. This one's a doosy boys and girls. Trigger words, realism, fucked up shit. The works. Prepare those anuses.
The Chinese food arrived only a few minutes later; its greasy smell filling the apartment. Several paper tubs of lo mein, egg drop soup, and egg fried rice were stacked on the coffee table next to two mugs of tea.
Percy looked up. "You know, I actually really enjoy fast food." He went back to shoveling food into his mouth while scrolling through emails on his phone.
"Right…" she responded.
"Do you?" he said without stopping what he was doing.
"Not particularly, no."
"That's tough, then."
"How come?"
"Cause that's all I ever eat," he said, leaving the coffee table and heading to the bathroom.
Annabeth slowly chewed her food, staring out the windows at the skyline as it began to light up the evening horizon. A sense of uneasiness began to fill her head though, as thoughts of her old life flooded her. Something was definitely off here. She'd thought it before, but it never really occurred to her how completely wrong this was. Wasn't she just a glorified prostitute? Sure there wasn't any sex involved, but how long until Percy broke and made a move? Annabeth was just selling her body in a different way this time, but nothing had changed.
Granted she had food, a warm place to live, and all the necessities and useless stuff she could ever want, but she was still cold. Still alone. There had been times during her brief moments with him where she had felt okay, almost safe, but it was a false safe. She had deluded herself into thinking that it was somehow all over, that the pain and the crying and the rape would stop. Something like that doesn't just stop.
Annabeth lifted her head and peered over at the sink. A long metal nozzle dripped water off a waterfall head. Sparkling blue tiles were plastered along the counter, the smooth granite blending perfectly with the grey-white cabinets. Further down the surface sat a wooden knife block, the letters ZWILING bolded into the oak. Two particularly long knives jutted out from the base, their shiny surfaces reflecting the city lights.
It would be so easy to grab one, to end it before she was hurt any further. She could do it. It wouldn't be so bad. Suddenly she was there, standing in front of the knives, her hand on the counter, inches from its prey.
A noise behind Annabeth startled her. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice cutting through the pounding silence.
She spun around, looking paranoid. He'd seen her eyeing the knives. He might think she was grabbing it to kill him, or maybe he knew what she had been so tempted to do, but either way, it was over for her. "What do you mean?" she feigned.
His green eyes, two oceans of emotion, full of disappointment, anger, concern, and as predicted, want, stared her down. She was cornered against the counter-top, its beveled edges pressed against her lower back. If he tried to take her, she had the knives. Her nails could be used too. Anything was a weapon.
His weight shifted to his left foot, leaning towards the wall. Annabeth tensed.
"Are you hungry or something?"
Clearly he wasn't the smartest guy around, but for being a businessman, and a prominent one at that, she expected a little more. "Yea, sorry, I was just about to cut up an apple," she said, her voice wavering.
"Oh, that's fine." He grabbed an apple out of a fruit basket and tossed it to her.
She dropped it; the faded red skin bruising against the floor. "Sorry," she said, desperately trying to hold back tears.
"It should be fine," he responded from behind her.
Annabeth delicately picked it back up, setting it on the counter. Percy handed her a cutting board. Her hand slowly reached for a paring knife. She grasped the handle and slid it out of the block, setting the edge against the bruised surface.
With one quick stroke she cut through it, slicing the apple in half. The flesh was perfect. Juice ran down her shaking hands.
Percy peered over her shoulder, observing the apple. "See? Just because there's a bruise on the skin, doesn't mean the fruit is ruined."
And then she was sobbing hysterically. A cascade of tears streamed down her face, dripping onto the apple slices. Her lips trembled violently, strange noises escaping her mouth as she let go. The knife shook unsteadily in her hand. She leaned over the counter, her belly pressed against the stone.
How long it took for Percy to notice her she couldn't say, but Annabeth remembered him exclaiming something then reaching for the knife in her hand. She slowly sank to the floor, sitting in the corner between the cabinets, and continued crying uncontrollably. As she gasped for breath like a child after a spanking, she spewed out apologies to no one in particular.
Sorry for existing. Sorry for crying. Sorry. Sorry for being there. Sorry for everything. I'm sorry. They all flowed out of her, leaving Annabeth unable to stem her meltdown.
Percy slunk down to the opposite corner and just sat there, watching her for what was possibly hours. She sat and cried and apologized, and he sat and listened to it all. His phone rang, it went unheard. The doorbell rang, it was unanswered.
Finally, when the only thing illuminating the room was the light from outside and the LED clock on the wall, she unsteadily rose and hobbled over to her bed on the opposite side of the apartment. She slipped onto the mattress and laid there for what seemed like hours, until pure exhaustion took her over.
Annabeth woke to the sound of heavy rain pouring down on the roof. Her eyes were puffy and red, her hair a mess. This was a sight she was quite familiar with.
She threw her clothes off and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, stepping around her previously made piles of books, the excitement of her discovery long forgotten. Daylight streamed through the windows and the clock on her dresser read 2:13. It was late. She didn't have anything to do anyway, but it made her wonder how long she was up last night.
She nervously walked around the apartment twice, just to confirm Percy's absence. She was alone, thank god. Annabeth glanced at the kitchen, memories of her breakdown flooding her. The knife set was gone, along with the apple and cutting board. Instead, a small note, scribbled out onto a slightly wrinkled post-it was stuck to the counter. She gingerly picked it up.
"Carpe Diem.
Seize the day."
It took all of her willpower not to break down again. The note shook in her hand, its scribbled message burning in Annabeth's thoughts. Carpe diem? Really? She was seconds from possibly killing herself, had a mental breakdown, and then cried the entire night, and now she was just supposed to "seize the day?"
Despite her frustration, she tucked the note into her pocket anyway. Even if it was stupid advice, it felt good to know someone cared, if only a little. After all that had happened the previous night, she found it strange that she was still in his apartment though. If someone had done that in her house she definitely would have kicked them out by now. Maybe Percy expected her to have a breakdown.
Annabeth made her way over to the coffee table, gently sitting down after clearing some papers from the spot. Just outside the windows sat three fat pigeons, their glossy coats shining in the sun. Down below, the usual noise rang through the streets, filling the apartment with a sense of life. Now that it was daytime, life didn't seem so hopeless, but Annabeth knew that this newfound sense of happiness was only temporary. Come night, things might be different.
Percy wouldn't always be there to stop her, and that was something she would have to face sooner or later, much like how she'll have to face him tonight. She had to explain to him what happened, to apologize for the meltdown, and to let him know that it was a onetime event only. Hopefully.
Annabeth stood up and reached into her pocket, taking out the post-it. Carpe diem, huh? She grabbed a wad of cash from one of Percy's jackets and marched out the door, stepping past the small glowing flower, and straight into the circular elevator. I need to do something for me; for my sake.
The cab pulled up next to a small hair salon, its front doors thrown open in hopes of catching a breeze. Only a few other women sat in the salon, most of them college aged girls. Triangle flags of assorted colors marked the stations and separated the booths, hiding several customers that were already being serviced.
"Hi!" welcomed an employee. "What do you need done?"
"I'm looking for a different hairstyle, hopefully something a little more aggressive looking and less, well, slutty," she replied.
The comment didn't seem to faze the women however, as she quickly pulled out a binder full of hairstyles, all sorted by age and formality levels. "Would you like to look through this?"
Annabeth took the book from the woman's hands and flipped through the hairstyles available. Since the store was in such a prominent location, more advanced styles were offered, and she soon found herself gawking at the prices for things that looked easy enough for a toddler to do.
After finding a section of the book that fit her price range, she began to closely inspect each one. Some were too similar to what she had now, a few were too modest, and others were plain ridiculous. Did she need a Mohawk? No. Did she need a crew cut? Hell no.
After having flipped through what seemed like hundreds of hairstyles, Annabeth finally settled on one that she thought would suite her well. It was titled as an "Asymmetric Bob Hairstyle," and was moderately priced compared to the others. From what it looked like in the catalog, her hair would be significantly shortened, save her bangs and the locks that were closest to her face, giving it a very pointed look.
It wasn't a haircut that was meant to please or to attract looks. It was a haircut that defined her as a strong person.
Back in the apartment, Annabeth decided that a little TV would go a long way. It had been years since she'd watched anything, and she was unfamiliar with essentially all the shows. As she flipped through channels, names like "The Big Bang Theory," and "Game of Thrones" popped out at her, but she didn't watch any of them for every long. This sort of lifestyle clearly didn't suite her, at least not in her current state.
Her eyes wandered over to the bookshelf down the curved hallway. Stacks of books still littered the floor; a mess she had yet to attend to. Yesterday's events were sweet and sour, to say the least. When Annabeth had found the bookshelf, she'd been happier than she could imagine, but within only a few short hours, she'd had her blood taken, then a night full of crying and thoughts of suicide. Clearly she needed some form of stability in her life. These past few days were not what she would call stress-free, and although she was obviously in a better situation than before meeting Percy, the pandemonium of the week's activity was wearing away at her.
As she sat there staring at the television and thinking about what to do with herself, she heard the elevator doors part down below. Percy was almost here, and she still had no plan on how to confront him. As flawless as he had seemed up until this point, Annabeth was sure he had a limit too, and last night probably crossed it.
Eh. We're over 2000 words. Until next time…