AHHHH DON"T KILL ME PLEASE! I'm sososososo sorry I haven't uploaded in FOREVER, but I have good reasons. 1. My parents are divorcing 2. Sophomore year is HARD and 3. I honestly have been having sort of a writer's block but I'm getting over it so it's alright :)
The abandoned brownstone flickered in the firelight. I was running, always running. Every exit I ran through just led me back there, to the haunting Cyclops that grinned eerily at me. It picked me up by my legs, and I was helpless, dangling upside down. I saw Conor, tied up in a lump next to the fire, unconscious. I started squirming against the Cyclops grip, but he was just too strong. Then, laughing evilly, he threw me at the corner wall with a loud roar.
I woke up, covering my mouth with my hand so as to not scream. On the other side of the cabin, Percy mumbled in his sleep. The nighttime was silent, and the birds chirped in the woods. I checked the clock on the wall: 5:00 am. Sighing, I stood up and quietly put on shorts and a new tshirt. Somehow, all of my stuff from the apartment in NYC magically turned up in my drawers. So I didn't have to buy anything from the store or anything.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face in the cabin bathroom, I walked outside. Everyone else was still asleep, and I could see that the sun was beginning to peek from the horizon. I sat down on the beach, with my feet in the water.
I was thinking about Narangessett. The beach was probably beautiful as ever. Tons of seaglass would be scattered across the beach, mine to keep. Early surfers would probably be searching for a wave to ride.
Then, out of nowhere, I found myself at the sandy bottom of the ocean. I tried holding my breath, but then I let it go, discovering that I could breathe underwater. About 50 feet above me, I saw the silhouette of a boat sailing. I saw that the sand sloped up towards land, so I swam towards there. I kept holding my breath, but then I realized: shouldn't my eyes be burning from the salt water? I hesitatingly took a breath of water: it flowed freely in and out of my lungs, as if I was a fish. I eventually was able to skim the surface of the water with my head.
I arrived on a sandy beach. The sunset was still happening, and the pink light of dawn illuminated a big tan house. The garden and lawn were impeccably neat, and there was nothing out of place. I don't know how, but somehow I managed to end up in Narragansett just by thinking about it.
At first, I was purely shocked. But as the surprise diminished, I found more and more curiosity coming over me. I wanted to go in and see what they were doing. Did they even notice that I was gone?
I walked up to the house without even trying to be cautious. They were probably sleeping off the alcohol or something.
The back door was unlocked, as usual. It was even messier than I remembered. My mother probably fired the latest maid when she was drunk or something.
I went up the stairs to the attic. The attic was my part of my house, my sanctuary.
Dust flickered in the light of the sun. It was clear that nobody has been here for months. My note about how I was running away lay on the ancient desk, untouched. They didn't even know that I was gone. Although I guessed as much, I hoped that they would. I harbored the secret desire that my mom would finally wake up, leave my awful stepdad's pathetic ass, and look for me. But I guess not.
I ran my fingers along the shells that remained stacked on my desk. I took mostly everything, but there was no way that I could pack all of my shells. There were hundreds of them. I held up a small conch shell. It was perfect, a rosy pinkish tan color. The color turned to pale aqua at the tip. I pocketed it. I looked around: all of the memories I had in here were not pleasant. I flashed back to the nights I spent here, barely conscious. I had to drag myself up the stairs. I touched my arm where I knew a round burn scar was etched in my skin from when he pressed the cigarette against me. I closed the door and walked down to the second floor. I peered in the bedroom.
My mom and him were lying in their bed. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and so were cigarette buds and pill bottles. I almost stepped on an empty whiskey bottle in the doorway.
How could they live like this? A whole life based on illusions, and relying on drugs to be happy. No, they weren't happy. They just needed to be relieved.
I saw him stirring in his sleep. I quickly tiptoed down the stairs and left the house. But, before I left, I put a single shell on the kitchen countertop. Maybe they'll remember me.
I walked on the streets of Narrangesett, absorbing the familiar smells of the city. Tourists walked all around me. Right: it was summer.
I found myself at the abandoned beach. No tourists ever came here: it was a secret place just for the people who lived here. Nobody really came here because it was pretty rocky, but I loved it. The last time I was here, I was thinking about what it would be like to escape. I had this silly dream of me finding my father in New York and having a regular happy ending. But it wasn't like that. Well, I knew who my father was now. Another problem: he was the frickin god of the sea. I guess life's cruel like that, I thought humorlessly.
They say you shouldn't look back. That you should keep going. But as I looked at the beach, I realized that you had to look at the past. You had to relive the pain and the sorrow and the moments of happiness and the moments when you seriously thought it was all over. You have to look at the past so you could learn from it. I wasn't completely over everything, but it was a really slow process. One that I've only just begun.
The sun was already fully up. I should go back to camp, I thought. I walked into the water, my mind flooding with thoughts of last night and all the past I've never truly gotten over.
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