A thousand apologies wouldn't sum up how bad I feel for putting this off for like 2 months. I can say I was busy, which I was, but this story was always on the back of my mind. I hope this chapter is good enough to satisfy you for a week or two more before I get time to write again- but I had load of trouble coming up with this. It was rewritten several times and I still don't like it.
I apologize for it's shortness- but here it is...
Chapter 4: If I could write it
Percy's POV
I've always loved Christmas. Unlike normal kids, I don't have memories of my dad dressing up like Santa Claus in some cliché red suit. Christmas was always just my mom and I sitting at my favorite blue table in the kitchen, hot gluing ornaments from pinecones and sticks. Then my mom makes the best blue chocolate chip cookies because of our little inside joke about my obsession with blue. But this Christmas my mom and I are driving out to our favorite spot, Montauk beach, and renting a house for a week. I'm so excited that I can't stop myself from tapping my feet on the school's tile floor (as if my ADHD didn't contribute to it).
"Well aren't you hyper today?" It's funny how sometimes I swear Annabeth Chase can read my mind. Since I met her, we've gotten closer and closer to a point where I now consider her as my best friend. I mean, I don't have a lot of friends, but she is definitely one of my closest friends that I have met since I started going to school again. It doesn't help that she's gorgeous and smells like lemons (the good kind).
"I'm just excited to get out of here. All we have left is English class and we're home free!" I shouted, throwing my arms up in the air. I'm good at making myself look stupid, especially when I'm in front of Annabeth. We were both sitting next to each other towards the back of the room. It wasn't long before I heard our teacher clearing his throat.
"Hello class! Both you and I are glad that today is the last day until Winter break. Unfortunately, I was alerted today that the district is administrating an essay contest and I am required to make it your assignment for the day. You have the rest of the class period to write about your most traumatic experience. You can make something up or you can write from honest experience, I really don't care. At the end of class I will collect your essays for a grade. The only people who will see these are myself and the school district contest judges who will not be disclosed your name or information. The winner of the contest gets an automatic A+ for the quarter. You may begin!" As our English teacher, Mr. Brunner, finished his explanation, I could feel the gears in my brain turning. I had always been looking for an opportunity like this where I could just be honest without anyone knowing.
I glanced over at Annabeth only to see that she already had taken out a sheet of paper and was writing vigorously. After a few anxious taps of my pencil on my chin, I had made my decision. With the new writing skills I had acquired from just listening to Annabeth babble for the past few months, I was going to write about my most traumatic experience. I couldn't allow myself to become conflicted with my decision- I was sure I wouldn't get this opportunity to let out my feelings without being judged anytime soon. I was going to do this. I was going to write about the reason why I wake up sweating and screaming almost every night and about the chills that run up and down my spine every time I look down towards the ground.
It wasn't like I was going to win or anything.
My life can be divided into two parts: before and after Athena's death. For years, Athena was just a fairy tale to me- a seed that my father had planted in my brain like the ones my mom plants in her window boxes. Every night before bed my father Poseidon would sit by my bedside and read from storybooks (the same ones over and over, if I may mention). But, one day I stayed up a little later than I was supposed to. I closed my eyes but didn't fall asleep. My father, who I had known to be a cold emotionless rock most of the time, began whispering stories that were definitely not from the storybooks as soon as I closed my eyes. Slowly but surely, the pieces of his life fell together into the misshapen puzzle that I had always known they would. But, something was different this time. This time he cared.
"At the time, it was impossible for me to say that there was one I despised more than Athena. She was the queen bee of our high school and my only competitor for captain of the Greek club." The puzzle also showed that my dad was a total dork in high school, but that's another story. "By the end of junior year, we were probably the most well-known enemies in high school. Over the summer before senior year, Athena and I both grew up a little bit. I still remember that first day of school when she walked in so elegantly that everyone stared. Her dark curls were pulled back in a ponytail making it look like she wasn't trying to be beautiful, but I know she was. She told me." By that portion of his bedtime story, I knew where it was going. He was going to fall in love with her and he was going to fall hard. "One day the tension between us snapped and next thing I knew I was introducing her to my parents as my girlfriend. I dated a lot of girls in my day, but Athena was a queen among them- a God among mortals. One of the reasons we always hated each other was because ironically, both our parents were crazy about Greek mythology and named us after Gods. After we started dating, we shared the leadership of Greek club and everything was perfect…" I remember his voice dropping. "I was so in love with her that it made me blind to the outside world. I forgot about college and where I was going- I just wanted it to be with her. When she was accepted to a high class school in California, I knew I couldn't follow her. We went our separate ways, me staying here in New York, and her in California. She met a man, had a child, and moved back here. I would have felt like she was rubbing it in my face if I hadn't met Sally first and you… You were a mistake, a flaw in the plan. I was supposed to be with Athena, I was supposed to be happy." I never told my mom about his stories- how could I have? She loved my dad too much to know how he really felt about her. My father would cry and I would listen, mad at him breaking my mother's heart and Athena for breaking his.
Months passed and I grew older with each day as our family settled back into a pattern without heartfelt bedtime stories and secret revelations. I was okay for a few months, even if my father went out of his way to neglect me. I would see him most nights at dinner when we would all, my parents and I, sit around our circular table and eat in silence. February 19th was the first day I ever saw my father cry. As a 10 year old, it was unusual to watch the light empty from his eyes as if it had become shrouded by clouds and his resolute façade crumble. A man, once so proud and stern, turned inside out. At first I didn't believe it- but when I saw my parents discussing it in the kitchen one day my fear my confirmed. My mother cried because she loved him and he cried because Athena had died, his heart seemingly dying with her.
Flash forward a week, I was wandering through the woods with my best friend from elementary. Suddenly, everything was black and red with screams, most likely my own, wailing through the vacant spaces of an empty forest. Then there was a sound of a car motor rattling beneath me as I kicked and kicked the nothingness surrounding me. It was darkness, I decided, that had swallowed me up and spit me out into a cold cell with wet floors and rusty bars. I didn't think I would be able to bear the silence until she appeared one day in the cell next to me. I knew she was afraid, as was I, and we cried together filling the empty silences, drowning out the sound of mysterious substances pattering against the ground from the ceiling. She told me about her family and how they neglected her, almost like mine had, and how she had run away from home, getting captured while settling in Central Park. She wanted to be an architect and I told her that she'd build the greatest building one day.
Once, after what felt like every few days, the people who had brought me to the cell would question me in a room so bright my eyes had trouble adjusting. They told me that they had contacted my father and put a price on my freedom. It was a lot of money, but not to my father. He had been drowning in his own paychecks since his company went international. I told them he wasn't coming, even if the amount was reasonable. Athena was the only thing on his mind- the reason why I knew he had no intention of telling my mother that he had talked to my kidnappers. They had only wanted his money and the secret of my capture was Poseidon's to keep.
At one point I stopped crying even at the hardest beatings and whippings. It came to a point where I could trace train-tracks up and down my back with slices down the length of my arms. She, Wise Girl as I called her, had injuries that were almost seemingly worse because of her stubbornness. At one point a new boy had been brought into the underground jail and Wise Girl was moved to my cell. It made it better to have someone to hold onto, but my agony worsened when she returned from worse and worse beatings. One day she came back with bitch carved into her arm and I knew that she needed to get out of here and that the people who did this would pay. We created an escape plan and put it into action. I distracted the guard and she ran, ran, ran, until she reached the ladder to the top. I, luckily, had given the guard a good punch and was given the opportunity to follower her. We both climbed the tall ladder nimbly and before I knew it she had reached the top. But when I felt a tug on my left leg I knew that only one of us was going to make it out that day.
The beatings got worse once she was gone because they knew I was the reason she had escaped. It had felt like years and Poseidon still hadn't come. It was hard for me to believe when the boy who had always sat in the corner of his cell whispered to me one day that I was going to make it out of here. He told me that he had a plan of his own and that he was going to stay here. He liked the darkness, the pain, the mystery in a room full of shadows. I don't know how he did it, but he somehow got my cell unlocked, giving me a clear opportunity to run. Next thing I knew, I was standing on solid ground again, blind. The darkness had taken my sight away from me and had left me with a harsh blur of colors in my line of vision. Somehow, I made it home that night by bus, barely able to decipher the difference between a tree and a house. Overtime, after numerous trips to the eye doctor, I had my full sight back. My mother and I would cry together every night because I was home and she was no longer alone. Poseidon had left her high and dry after I disappeared, no longer obligated to stay home for my sake.
Two years I spent in a cell, underground, almost if not always alone. All the troubling thoughts, PTSD diagnoses, and days spent alone in bed with nightmares had left a terrible mark on my life. Now I strive to forgive and forget, even if memories of torture are written all over my skin. But as it stands, I still blame Athena for starting everything- a domino effect. If she hadn't left my father and stubbornly separated from him at the start of college, maybe things would be different. Even then if she hadn't distracted my father by passing so early, maybe I would still be normal. Regardless of the 'what ifs' and maybes, Athena still made dark marks across my past. The mark of Athena- it is the beginning and it is the end- as it burns through my life like wildfire, ready to be extinguished. My life can be divided into two parts: before and after Athena's death.
I took a deep breath as I lowered my dull pencil and stopped writing. The emotions and feelings that were running through my mind felt like they were going to break through any minute and create a flood worse than one that could be caused by the Hoover Dam.
"Percy, are you okay?" Annabeth whispered across the space in between our desks. I guess I wasn't doing as well of a job as I thought with concealing my emotions.
"Definitely," I replied swiftly. The loud ringing of the dismissal bell saved me from further interrogation.
"Percy, can you stay after class for a minute or so? I need to speak to you," Mr. Brunner announced.
"Do you want me to wait for you outside?" Annabeth asked.
"I'll meet you at your locker," I replied anxiously. Annabeth was willing to wait for me.
After Annabeth left her essay on Mr. Brunner's desk, a silence spread through the room. I knew that he probably wanted to talk about my grade which happens to be way below average.
"Do you mind if I read your essay? I want to see if you have made any progress with your writing." I'm sure I looked spooked after he said that, like I was ready to run for the hills. I could just tell him I made it up. I'm not sure he would believe it anyway. What do I have to lose?
"Sure," I murmured, hopefully sounding smoother than I sounded in my head. I passed my paper across his desk into his hands and waited.
Mr. Brunner, I discovered, is an agonizingly slow reader. His face continued to transform and contort into different positions as he passed through each paragraph. I winced as he dropped my paper and turned to me with an awestruck gaze.
"You wrote this?"
"Annabeth has been helping me with my writing a little bit…" I trailed off, not expecting that reaction.
"Percy, you have never once done well on any of my tests or quizzes related to writing and yet when I give you an assignment you seem to show the traits that I've been hoping to help you develop under my teaching. It's like you know how to write well, creatively yet professionally, and yet you don't comprehend what exactly you are doing." He paused momentarily for breath. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm guaranteed that this essay is probably one of the best, if not the greatest, essay written by anyone in your class."
"Thanks… I think?"
"And additionally, how did you come up with this idea so fast? I gave you a short period of time to write and yet you create a piece with a surplus of detail and a perspective that makes me believe this actually did happen to you." The look in his eyes changed for a moment to something much darker. "This didn't happen to you, right?"
"Uh- I…" When I heard myself begin to stutter, I knew I was down for the count. I am terrible at hiding things from people. I felt myself becoming less tense as the looking in my English teacher's eyes softened tenfold.
"Are you okay?" He asked quickly. "Do I need to speak to the guidance counselor or maybe a mental-"
"No, please don't! I'm okay Mr. Brunner, I really am. It was a long time ago. I made it seem much more dramatic in the essay." I'm slowly dying inside. It seems like yesterday. I didn't even begin to expand upon the scars that you can't see on the outside of my skin.
"We will talk about this more after break. For now, Merry Christmas." With the subtle wave of his dismissing hand, I grabbed my bag and I ran, ran, ran.
Hope that tickled your fancy! Don't expect such a long wait next time; again- sorry. I'm going to see Le Mis tomorrow (so excited) and I hope that your weekends are equally satisfying.
Reviewer of the Chapter: I loved them all
I am so happy you all listened and didn't complain every 2 seconds and responded with care.
I love you all for that.
