This chapter is from the perspective of a war veteran. This veteran has survivor's guilt. If you don't know, survivor's guilt is a mental condition that some veterans have when they survive a traumatic experience while someone else does not. This often occurs if the soldier lost someone close to them like a friend, they feel as if they did something wrong by simply surviving.

Please note that this is a real condition- I did not make it up- that real people are suffering from. This mental state has lead to suicides.

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson

I sat in the cafe. Tapping my cup subconsciously. It was pulling me back. I could feel Its grasp on my shoulders, dragging me in. Thrusting me into the past. It came in flashes. It being the memories.

"Captain William Short?"

"Yes?" I knew what was going to come out of the man's mouth. I didn't want to hear it.

I gasped and clenched the table.

"I'm sorry to inform you, sir, but... Lieutenant Lin... she did not..."

'You can't even finish the sentence,' I thought bitterly. You can't even honour Lizzie...

I wanted to bang my head on the table and scream.

"I understand you and Lieutenant Lin were close comrades."

I curled my hand into a fist. Lizzie is... was more than a 'close comrade'. She's my best friend, my diary that talks back to me, the one I know I can confess secrets to and she'll like me all the same. Lizzie was the one more hesitant to join the army. I said we would be close, how selfish. I said we'll be serving our country, side by side. I said it'd be fine- we would both live, and what a blissful life that seems like now.

I close my eyes, I must have looked odd: A man in his mid-fifties, looking on the edge of a childish tantrum. I decided to do as I always do when It tugs at me. I closed my heart in a small coffin, concealing it, feeling it beat against the lid to be let out, to cry for Lizzie. But I wouldn't let it. Some therapists would say this is a coping mechanism. A way to shut myself off from the rest of the world. I suppose.

I hear a little bell and fidget instinctively before I remember that signals another person wants a latte.

People, it turned out. A party of 6 walked in, all of them in their teenage years. They held their heads high, but it seemed like they were trying to seem tough on the outside and they were crying on the inside. One boy stayed at the front counter while the others found a table. The boy had black hair, almost darker than... Lizzie's.

Stop it. Don't go there. I told myself sternly.

The teenager walked to his group with 6 drinks and 6 bagels. None of them touched the food, and I assumed it wasn't just because of the steam coming out the top of the food.

"Do you think that maybe he might've... survived somehow?" An African American girl with reddish hair asked.

A boy with amazing blue eyes chuckled softly. "Maybe. CaptainMcSchizzle always has a plan."

The Native American girl who was leaning into the blue-eyed boy nodded and smiled wistfully.

A bulky Asian boy raised an eyebrow. "Even when he tried to accept the dare from the Stolls and straighten his hair?"

"Or when he stole Drew's fake eyelashes?" A blonde girl with grey eyes added.

The Native American girl nodded. "I got to call him beauty queen for a week."

The group settled into silence until the boy who ordered the food spoke softly. "I wish it was me."

A ripple of nods went around the table.

My locked up heart felt like it was suffocating (can a heart suffocate?). I didn't know if these people were in the army and their friend is deceased, or has simply moved away, but I knew that these children were hurting and felt guilty. I can't count the number of nights I was wide awake, begging whoever was listening to my sobs and hitched breath to bring Lizzie back and make me suffer in her place.

I stood rigidly and walked over to the small group.

"Excuse me for not minding to my own business, but I heard you talking about someone... a friend, perhaps?" I determined this was the best approach, proposing I had only heard a tidbit of their conversation.

The teens shared glances and communicated, finally deducing they would make conversation with me.

"Yeah... our friend, Leo Valdez. He... well, we think... he... died," The African American girl, who looked the most trusting of them all, informed me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "I'm very sorry to hear that. My best friend... Lizzie. She died... in combat." I started to panic. Why would I talk about her? Talking about her ripped a bandaid off a fresh wound.

The teenagers glanced at each other. "We're... truly sorry to hear that, Mr...?" The blonde boy asked respectfully.

I straightened and gave a small salute. "Captain Short*, Captain Willian Short."

"Captain Short. Thank you for your service. Genuinely. We... we know how hard it is to stay motivated when you lose someone," The Native American girl spoke.

I felt a tingle in my body. Normally when someone said 'Thank you for your service', I took it as an empty saying they were taught as children, but something about these young adults made me believe they had had a fight. Whether that be in the army or something else.

"Thank you... you kids have helped me a great deal with this chat. More than you know," I spoke from my caged heart. Hearing these kids talk about someone they lost with such fond memories was... eye-opening. Maybe from now on, I can remember Lizzie as the prankster she was, the best friend that she was and certainly the way she always shared some of her light with me when I was shrouded in the dark. Yes, I decided, from now on, I would not think of Elizabeth Lin as 'deceased comrade', she would be the good memories; the ones I can get lost in willingly.

And that's how I came to terms with my best friend's death and legacy. Not with trained professionals, not with prying therapists, hell, not even with close friends but with a group of teenagers I met in a cafe.

*That's something I put in there as my vain attempt to be funny. Tell me if you get this Artemis Fowl related thing.

I wrote 1,222 words in maybe an hour. I finished this chapter in one day, which is quite incredible for me. I usually get tired or lose interest halfway through, but I found myself motivated by this chapter.

P.S: Thank you all veterans for your service. Honestly. You serve your country, a stupendous feat. Keep kicking ass.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Thank you to all who viewed, reviewed, followed and favourited.

KEEP BEING AWESOME,

captainMcSchizzle