This chapter is dedicated to Mandi2341

Chapter 11

Anger

…Standing in the doorway is a middle aged woman with mousy brown hair clipped to the back of her head and large brown eyes. She's tan, with laugh lines around her eyes. Her body frame is small and petite. She's wearing a large white apron that drowns her, and there's a dusting of flour in her hair. Your mom.

Relief floods your body. This is your mom.

"Percy!" she exclaims hysterically, throwing herself at you. You crush her in a hug. The top of her head comes just to the top of your shoulder, and you bury your face in the soft hair.

"I missed you Mom," you mumble.

She releases you and gazes into your eyes. You watch as hers spill over. Tears slide down her face. She's smiling and crying all at the same time.

Annabeth stands awkwardly off to the side.

You could have stood there all day, just staring at her, drinking her in, but she remembers herself and stands aside, her hand tightening in a vice around your upper arm. Her fingers touch.

You feel the tugging deep inside as reality threatens to slip away, giving way to the red mist of Tartarus. You double over, fighting it as hard as you can.

Annabeth leaps in with the grace of a wildcat, prying your mother's fingers away from your arm, but she's only making it worse.

You sink down to the ground, hands locking over your head. You can't hold it for much longer. And then the dam breaks.

You're sinking, sinking, sinking through the burning quicksand. You scream, and it pours into your mouth, burning, burning, burning, you can't stand it anymore, you can't breathe, it's in your nose, your mouth, everywhere. A jerk on your upper arm sends you into hysterics as you feel the bone snap. It's pulling you up, up, out. You collapse on the stone blissfully cool floor, choking and retching…

"Percy!" You snap awake, choking. You slow down and take a deep breath. When you've steadied your breathing and controlled your trembling, you look up. Two worried faces peer at you. You've fallen sideways, and you're laying on the carpet, curled in a fetal position.

You pull yourself up, rubbing your temples.

"Flashback, sorry," you mutter, accepting Annabeth's hand and pulling yourself to a standing position.

"Does this happen often?" your mom asks, worry making her hands flutter like a bird.

"Only when people do things that…that they did to me," you say.

Annabeth looks at you strangely, like, opening up now, Seaweed Brain?

"What did they do to you that I did?" she asks.

You take a deep breath and walk into the apartment. It's one hundred percent better than it was in the building. Bright colors, open spaces, large windows, light streaming in from every corner.

Annabeth and Sally follow you into the house.

When you've all settled down on the couch, you continue. "Burning quicksand…drowning…couldn't breathe…they pulled me out by my arm, broke it." Annabeth and Sally are silent, quietly digesting the horror.

"What about the first the episode you had?" Annabeth asks softly.

You say, "falling, falling down this cavern. The bottom was sloshing lava and pointy black rocks. They caught me at the last second."

You're taut as a bowstring, struggling not to snap with pressure. It's taking all of your willpower to keep talking, but if you can't trust them, you can't trust anyone. You swallow hard, and unshed tears run down your throat.

"The next one?" Annabeth asks shakily.

"Strapped down…questions I couldn't answer…" You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes until you see stars.

"And the last one?"

"They were pulling me up, and yanking on my arms so hard, my shoulders came out of their socket, but they didn't stop."

You hide in your hands. A small noise is coming from your throat.

This is not the way the visit was supposed to go. You were supposed to make it look like everything was fine. To protect your mother, the way you always do. But everything went wrong. Surely she knows just how broken you are, now. You haven't held anything back.

A body intertwines with yours, sitting on your knees, their arms around your neck. Someone else is carding softly through your hair, squeezing your callused hands with a mother's care.

A warm feeling spreads through your body, combating the iciness that has dominated your being. You hope the warmness wins.

Finally you look up again.

Your lashes are wet and they stick together, but you don't think any tears actually fell. Annabeth is sitting on your lap, and your mom is leaning up against you. Tears drip into her lap, and your shoulder is soaked. You wipe her tears with your thumb.

"I had no idea. No idea," she whispers. "My baby, Percy. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."

"S'not your fault," you whisper back. "Not your fault."

Annabeth says, her voice thick with emotion, "It's not yours, Mrs. Jackson, it's mine. If I hadn't let my guard down…" She can't go on.

"It's not yours, either. You would have done the same thing for me. It's my fault." A knock sounds on the door, then a set of keys scraping in the lock.

Sally pulls away from you and Annabeth climbs off your lap.

Your hands go for Riptide. The uncomfortable sensation that something malevolent is close is stronger.

The door scrapes open and Paul steps in. His briefcase hits the floor with a dull thud that startles you.

"Home, Sally!" he calls.

"I'm in the living room," she calls back.

He looks in your direction, salt and pepper hair, now balding, brown eyes, large stomach, half-moon glasses, and his eyes widen with shock. His gaze roves over your pathetically thin body.

"Oh, hello Percy," he says uncomfortably. "How've you been?"

This sets you off.

"I've been doing great," you say, practically spitting your words out. "If you call getting tortured in Tartarus great."

You stand up, shake the women off of you, and storm down the long hallway. You slam the door shut to your room and slump against it, barely fighting back the tears. What is wrong with you?

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