Camp Jupiter: War Games
Centurial
Nyssa
Cohort I, Defense
"What's with you?" "One year ago...she died."
Words: 546
Hey! So, here's an actual submission for the Camp Jupiter: War Fames forum...link's on my profile, I haven't done anything for it in a while, and I made the prompt so yay.
Centurial:
It felt like it had been a century.
Since her limp, stiff body dropped to the cold, bitter ground, the light fading and then dying from her eyes.
And now that she was gone...what was she supposed to do?
Every day passed just as grey as the last had, every second of every minute of every hour prolonged with the image of her falling to the floor.
She'd taken down every picture in her house, because even the ones she wasn't in carried the memories of her.
She avoided saying her name, afraid it would take her back.
She wasn't sure why she kept doing this.
Her feet still dragged on the hard wooden floor, and every day she seemed to find her way back, to torture herself by standing once again on the thin carpet to look at her dusted room. The bed still lay unmade how she'd left it the morning she fell, a corner of the bedspread hanging off the edge. The items on her bookshelf and desk and inside the chest that served as her nightstand all covered in an ever thickening layer of dust. The musty taste of the air was growing unbearable, and she had never once gone inside after the morning she fell; a memorial to her it would remain.
"What's with you?" She turned wordlessly. She'd heard him come in, hadn't cared.
"One year ago...she died." He was silent. Waiting for her to go on.
"I was born into a world where she was alive." Her voice was hoarse. "I thought I would die in a world where it was the same."
"..." He didn't know what to say. He'd been her friend, too. But no one had been as close to her as she had been- best friends from childhood, who'd spent as many moments as they could get with each other, who'd shared an apartment until the day she fell. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. I should have been there." Her voice was heavy. She had been there. But she had refused to listen, had been too prideful to back down and be safe. Maybe she'd wanted to fall, maybe she thought she would have been okay.
"You were there."
"I should have stopped it, Jason. I should have stopped her."
"Piper, you can't blame yourself because she died. Annabeth knew what she was doing."
"What else am I supposed to do? If you know how I'm supposed to move on, feel free to tell me." He didn't know. She didn't know. A year had passed, and it felt as though she were no closer to 'moving on' and 'letting go' than she had been a full 365 days before.
"How are you supposed to go on living, when the thing embedded so deeply in your life is gone?"