Chapter...uh...what chapter is it now?
The official story was I had taken a swim after work. At least, that was what I told Brad as he peered concernedly at me when I stumbled into the door, sandy and dripping.
"Hey," he said, wrapping his arms around me. "I was getting worried. It's seven already."
I nodded mutely. I felt dead inside; which I knew was stupid, but I just couldn't help it.
"Well," he said, wiping his sandy palms together and smiling good-naturedly. "If you wanna take a shower, I left a piece of pie in the oven. I'm going to finish off my work, and we'll watch a movie or something after, if that's okay with you?"
I nodded again, and he smiled and disappeared through the arch to the living room.
I walked upstairs, mechanically, and stripped, tossing the clothes in the hamper and turning the shower knob on as the blast of hot water hit me in the back.
I leant against the wall, as I angled the shower head to hit me between the shoulder blades. I sighed and just stood there, not thinking, loosing myself. It was before the water ran cold and I started shiver uncontrollably that I turned the shower off.
I dressed and ate, mindful that my unborn child needed to be healthy, even if I didn't want to be.
"Hey, Brad?" I asked, leaning against the arch and looking at him. "Sorry, but I'm not really in the mood for a movie tonight. I'm tired and I just want to go to bed."
He stood and crossed over to me, smiling again; totally oblivious to my unhappiness.
"No, that's okay," he said, bending down to kiss me gently. "I'll be up in maybe a half an hour." He patted my stomach. "Sleep's probably good for the baby," he said, laughing.
I managed a weak smile, before exiting the room, walking up the stairs. I brushed my teeth, and got into bed.
I lay in bed, unmoving, tossing over long after Brad began snoring gently beside me. In fact, the sky outside my window had morphed to grey before I decended into a restless sleep, haunted with images of both purple and sea green eyes.
The fragmented thoughts and feelings that were running through him were starting to give him a headache.
You must destroy her.
But she was the one... why do I have to?
You must. She is an unneeded interference.
But...I don't want to.
I don't care what you want! You will obey me!
Y...Yes m-master.
Good boy. Serve me properly and I will reward you.
Yes master.
He crawled from the surf, hair plastered against his forehead. He'd been under the ocean so long that he'd forgotten how to walk. As such, he stumbled up the beach, keeping low to the ground as he reoriented himself on dry land.
Now, listen to me very carefully...
He cocked his head to one side, listening to the voice only he could hear. He nodded once, and set off in a specific direction, slowly getting used to the legs that moved so uncoordinatedly beneath him. The sand gave way beneath him, and he began moving with a slight closer to the lithe grace of someone accustom to battle.
Until he tripped over a rock and sprawled over into the parking lot with an oof. Kind of ruined the mood, a small part of his mind thought, but then I'm not really a serious person.
Fool, said the voice in his head.
He walked up the parking lot, and onto the sidewalk, travelling along the beach front. There was a car parked a couple hundred meters ahead, just like the voice said there would be. Beige and inconspicuous, he touched the door handle and it clicked open.
The inside was not so nice; rotted seating with stains all over the upholstery. He recoiled from it.
Get in, boy. It's not going to hurt you.
A small amount of salt water flowed over the seat, freezing itself and creating a thin layer of ice over it.
He got in, and touched the ignition slot. It started up, the headlights beaming out into the ocean.
Well don't just sit there, fool. Start it up.
He placed his hands gingerly on the wheel, and a sheet of ice encased it too. He pulled away from the kerb, grazing the rear of the car with a post.
He drove off, the voice in his head muttering instructions mixed with curses as he learned—slowly—to drive.
The car swung into the street, the driver driving slowly and carefully, keeping to the left side nearly perfectly. He stopped the car the headlights dimming and the engine shutting off.
All was quiet on the street, not even a barking dog to relieve the silence that seemed to press down on the cold air.
The door opened, and then closed, as he walked across the silent road to the house with the white picket fencing.
We used to live in a house. Didn't we..? he paused, frowning at the scattered memories.
Bah, just hurry up, you fool, said the ever present and ever angry voice.
He walked, unwillingly, up the path to the house, skirting around the house to the back window. A lattice of roses wound up the wall to the back window.
How convenient, the voice nearly purred in his head. Scale it.
The part of him that once loathed overt physical activity when it wasn't required groaned, but he was forced to ignore it, and quickly scaled the trellis, climbing to the top and swinging around so that he could look in the window.
It was dark inside, the only light from the moon, which feel upon two figures. The first was flat on his back, fast asleep.
The second was facing the man, blond hair pulled up into a neat ponytail and slight figure wrapped in a bedsheet. Annabeth.
Good...good, the voice said, pleased for once. Open the window and do the job.
I don't want to. He was resolute.
You must!The voice screech, making him wince. Do it, now! Or I will take control and do it myself!
No! He screamed at the voice. I won't do it. We've been through so much together. I won't do it.
Augh! The inarticulate scream of rage was followed by a curious light-headed feeling, and his consciousness was locked away inside his mind. The master of his body relished control, sliding the window open silently.
From his pocket, the master grabbed a gun, an ugly bulbous silencer attached.
When you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, the master thought smugly as Percy protested, a prisoner of his own body. Kronos himself pointed Percy's hand, along with the gun, at the sleeping figure.
He aimed once, and fired.
I have Twitter now—https:/ twitter. com /NovemberRising— (remove the spaces) where I will post snippets of my stories, so follow me and maybe my non-updating won't be so unbearable. :P
Reviews are good. :)