Author's Note: Hello...I'm very sorry for the late reply, but my computer's been broken for a couple of weeks. It's all good now, though. I got a new one. So. This is chapter 6...please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Percy shooed me out before I could react. But what was I supposed to say? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that? Sorry wouldn't cut it. Once again, I pondered on what had made me tell him everything. Perhaps it was the drink Calypso had given me. It did make my head a little fuzzy. Or perhaps it was the conversation I had overheard in my sleep, and the fact that I knew he was suffering.
But those were simply lies, and I knew that. In truth, I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to thank me, to think that I had helped him recover a piece of himself...I was selfish, desiring for attention that I found would never reach me, and in the end, I had succeeded in nothing but hurting him. No doubt the beautiful Calypso was home, comforting him with those words like honey, hugging him and calling him her hero.
Being home made me feel worse. Dinner tasted stale, and the tomato sauce reminded me of blood. My phone kept buzzing with texts from Luke, and while they would've made me giddy a few years back, all it did was fill me with distaste. He even had the nerve to call me out for a date.
"You up for a date? Tomorrow night. We can watch whatever you want; just like we used to when we were younger. -Luke"
I threw my phone onto the couch across the room, sighing. It buzzed again, vibrating on the leathery surface of the seat.
"Rachel? Are you aright?"
I swore this was the worst day ever. Susan came in, her slippers tapping the wooden floor, and she sat next to me by the counter.
"I think you mistook the amount of salt in the pasta today."
I nodded, head drooping. I didn't have the heart for this today. I was too tired, too confused to play the roles of a good, fake, daughter.
"Annabeth."
Susan's voice was stern, and I looked up. I've learned from experience that when she calls you by your real name, she means business.
"Yes, Mom?"
"I'm not your mother."
Ouch. But touche to that.
"Okay."
Susan stood up, her glorious full height shown, a dangerous glint alight in her eyes. I caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath, and immediately understood her strange behavior. Of course she chooses today to drink. Last time she was drunk...I shivered, my hand creeping up to my forearm. I still had a reminder of what had happened. Or should I say, what happens when I disbehave.
"You were late to come home, too. You barely got dinner ready in time. And that dinner happened to be very distasteful. Now you sit with that attitude of yours, glaring at me through your hair. What would your mother say, sweetie, if she were to see you like this?"
I wanted to scream. My mother was dead. Gone. Never coming back. My nails dug on the palms of my hands, and I looked down, trying to look shameful. Better have this done then be punished again.
But it's not enough. Susan's cheeks are tinted red-why hadn't I noticed that when she first came in?-and she grabbed my wrist, pulling me up. Oh the true wonders of alcohol. Any other day, and I'd be able to throw her off. But with my exhaustion weighing in and the effects of her whiskey, she managed to drag me down to the basement. Fear suddenly shot through my veins, crawling up my throat and threatening to suffocate me.
"Susan?"
Everything was dark, and all I could see was her bloodshot eyes. She grinned for a moment, her teeth shining white, and she turned around, shutting the door. I attempted to stop her, but I slipped down the stairs, and I heard the lock click up above.
.
I have hated the basement ever since I was little, and I hated it even more today. It was dark; too dark. I could hardly tell if my eyes were open or not, and that really could not be natural. I mean, it was still my step-brothers' bedtime, and some light should have reached this room.
I sat still, my back leaning against what I could only presume was the wall, and shivered every time I felt something brush against my leg. There it is again. Something crawled up my leg, and I suppressed a scream from the irrational fear. Acrophobia. I could imagine those beasts, gathering about, crawling on me, one by one… The hair on my arm stood on its end, and this time I couldn't help it; I let out a scream. I shook my head before reaching out, trying to feel for the walls again, but my hands reach upon a sticky thin string, and something ran up my arm from my hand.
All of a sudden, those spiders were everywhere. I could feel them on my legs, my arms, my back, and even my face, and I fell to the ground, shaking. I drew my knees close, rocking back and forth, but that only brought the arachnids close. Spider webs wove around my wrists, the thin silk leaving me feeling encased and claustrophobic. I needed to get out of here, and quickly too. Something bigger than spiders fell by my foot, and my heartbeat sped up, making it difficult to breathe.
Spiders weren't the only reason for my fear.
Eight years ago, my mother died. Right in this basement, in my young arms.
Oh, no. Perseus Jackson isn't the only one with a twisted past.
Because I was the one that killed my mother.
.
Soon afterwards, I lost all sense. I put my head down, screamed, and maybe lost consciousness. I couldn't really tell.
The door opened above, a small beam of light reaching through, and I shot to my feet, ready to apologize. I didn't care if Susan was wrong. I'd say sorry a million times if it meant getting out of this hellhole. But instead of my stepmother, I heard my father speak, and confusion flitted across my mind.
"Annabeth?" He chuckled, "It's kind of getting late. I know you love this stuff, but maybe you should come up already? Your dink is getting cold."
My eyebrows couldn't help but furrow, and I took a step forward, still unsure. Did Dad not know about Susan getting angry? And since when did he start calling me Annabeth again? I thought I was Rachel. At least, to them.
But the next surprise had me weak at my knees, and I couldn't decide whether to rush forward or back away. Because my mother, Athena Chase, stood by my father, laughing and looking very much alive.
.
My mother looked exactly like she did eight years ago. Her brunette curls were tightly fixed in a bun, and her steely grey eyes managed to hold a shine of love. This couldn't be real. She's dead.
"Annabeth? Are you alright?"
There was a sense of familiarity when she asked me that question, and I remembered Susan asking me the same a few hours ago.
"I...I don't think I understand any of this." I admitted, turning to my father instead. "I mean, where's Susan? She sent me there to have me punished, and I don't think she'll be happy to see that I am out."
My father let out a confused laugh. "Susan? What are you talking about? Maybe you should get some sleep, hon. You do seem really tired."
As if to agree, a yawn escaped my lips.
"But still. Mom, you can't be here. You're not real."
Strangely enough, my mother looked confused and hurt. "I live here, Annabeth. Are you okay? You're getting me worried, sweetie."
All of a sudden, I couldn't take it anymore. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I stood up, freeing myself from my mother's grasp. "You're dead! You've been dead for eight whole years! I saw you die. I held you until your very last breath!"
I started to find it hard to breathe, and I flung my shaking arms around my shocked mother. Because even through this, I knew she was dead. Better to take the chance given to me, right?
"I'm very much alive, Annabeth. Please don't kill me." She lets out a small, worried laugh. "It's late at night, Annabeth. You should get your rest, and we'll sort it out when you wake up, tomorrow. It' alright, baby. It's all gonna be okay." She rubbed my trembling back in soothing circles, and I couldn't take it anymore. There was too much pain, too much longing, too much confusion for one day.
There was a sharp clicking sound in my head, and I fell limp in my mother's arms.
Additional Author's Note: Yeah...This might be very confusing. It will all be clear..soon. Mwahahaha...