Hey peeps, how you guys doing? This is the last developmental chapter, you guys will be happy to hear, it kicks up sharply from here. And yes, I'm aware you all want longer chapters (or at least some of you do) and I'm working on it, but this chapter honestly didn't need to be that long, and adding words would've only wasted both of our time since the point was relatively simple. I hope you peeps are okay with that. In other news, this story recently broke 100 reviews, so thank you guys so much, that's probably the best reception I've gotten for a story (relative to the time I've been uploading it). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.
Every day since she'd been put on the injection medicine, Annabeth had been having a therapy session with the doctor. For the most part, they'd been going well, though she, personally, didn't think that the doctor was making much headway, not even that time that Annabeth had freaked out because she thought she saw a spider on the wall. Everything was fine, though. It was only a shadow.
She was lying on the floor in the center of the room, her hair fanned around her head like some sort of matted halo. She was gazing in the direction of the ceiling, idly scratching at her right arm, which was swollen, covered with what seemed like faint bruises and adorned with a smattering of tiny, itchy red dots from being injected with medicine daily. She was in a dreamlike state, alert yet drowsy at the same time.
The doctor, during the therapy, kept trying to tell her that her mother wasn't Athena, goddess of wisdom, and instead the owner of a successful architectural firm, but Annabeth knew better than to believe her, even when the doctor tried, occasionally, to convince her that her nightmares of Tartarus were actually her subconscious trying to "break free of Percy's abusive tendencies". She knew better, though. Percy would never hurt her. He loved her.
The first time he'd told her that, it had been when they were video chatting each other while she was going to school in California, and he'd been so surprised when he'd said it that he fell out of his chair.
She laughed, and it echoed around the room. Even to her ears, it sounded strange. Off kilter. Mad. She chuckled softly to herself. Maybe she really was going insane.
The wall panel slid away, and a nurse came in carrying her breakfast.
Annabeth clamored to her feet, taking the tray from the woman's hands, "Here, Maria, let me take that. How have you been?"
The nurse watched her carefully, giving her a worried, wary smile, "Good, Annabeth. Thanks for asking."
The daughter of Athena hummed in acknowledgment as the woman left the room, placing her tray of pancakes on her tiny table. She ate them plain, remembering how good Percy's mother's pancakes tasted. She missed Sally. Her heart ached. She missed Percy.
As though something had flipped a switch, her thoughts turned abruptly towards a happier, more calming topic, which happened to be her pancakes. She brought another forkful to her mouth. She didn't really mind their blandness, though she did miss syrup. Unfortunately, she wasn't allowed to have any since she'd tried using it to draw blueprints on the walls.
As she finished eating, she felt a headache coming on, something she'd grown accustomed to happening. She got up and slowly made her way towards her bed. Then again, any movement since they'd started the medicine was slow, since she always felt as though she was moving through jello and she was always so tired. Her bones always seemed to ache with exhaustion, anymore.
She sat heavily on the bed, using her index and middle fingers to rub circles on her temples as the headache grew increasingly more insistent. She always had a headache, lately, leading up to when she was injected with her medicine.
As her head began to switch from aching to pounding, she stopped rubbing circles and instead pressed the heels of her palms to her temples. She stayed like that for a few minutes as the sledgehammer beat the inside of her skull, leading her to idly wonder if this was what her grandfather felt like before her mother was freed, when she felt the hands of a nurse on her right arm. The nurse, whom she assumed was Maria, since it definitely wasn't that guy nurse that had tried to grope her that one time, gently removed her hand from her head and slid something that looked oddly similar to a rubber band onto her arm.
The nurse waited a few moments for the band to stem the blood flow enough for Annabeth's veins to begin to appear, then pulled a needle from somewhere in her scrubs. She selected one of the few veins on Annabeth's arm that hadn't been stabbed yet, and carefully inserted the needle. Annabeth didn't even notice the prick anymore, instead focusing on the feeling she received as the medicine rushed into her veins. Within moments, her headache had cleared.
Straightening, the daughter of Athena smiled at the nurse, who was, indeed, Maria. In return, the woman, who appeared to have Italian heritage, gave her a sad smile, her eyes heavy with an emotion that Annabeth knew was pity. Annabeth hated pity. But Maria had been nice to her so far, so she simply acted as though she didn't know the nurse pitied her.
The nurse, for her part, was friendly, as she placed the empty syringe on the tray that had previously housed Annabeth's pancakes, this time commentating on the new exhibit being brought to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It wasn't long until Annabeth was alone again, lying on her cot.
She took a deep breath, bitterly happy at her constant happiness. She emitted another chuckle, this one directed at herself and her current state, somehow finding it funny that she was stuck helplessly inside a hospital for the insane when it was the hospital itself that she thought was sending her there.
Eventually, though, sleep claimed her weary mind, since she'd been up the entire night staring at the ceiling, and she easily allowed herself to drift off into the blissfully abstract dream world.