Disclaimer (that i forgot about for the last 3 chapters): Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians and its characters. I just made up the plot.

"Hello, Percy? You still there"" I had just finished explaining what I remembered and the proof I found. Percy was silent for a minute, probably in deep thought.

"Annabeth?... Wise Girl?"

He mumbled it in such a hesitant tone that worried me, did he not remember?

"Yes?…." I answered nervously.

Percy paused. "Meet me at your bookstore tomorrow at 4, before you get off work. I need to show you something," he replied quickly. I heard a clatter of voices in the background through the phone. A woman was talking to him but I couldn't make out anything distinctive.

"Okay, sure I guess." I said, confused, "bye."

"Mhm." He answered absentmindedly, I waited for the click of him hanging up, but it didn't come. Instead, I heard footsteps getting louder and voices becoming clearer. I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"Percy, are you going to tell her?" A woman softly asked.

"I don't know, mom. But what will she think if I do tell?" Percy sighed.

"It's up to you, sweetheart, but you'll have to tell her one day." Percy was silent as his mom's footsteps faded into silence as she walked away

"That one day is not going to be anytime soon." He muttered to himself and shuffled away.

Silence. Percy didn't come back to hang up, so I did it myself. Staring at my phone, I thought about what I had just heard. What was he hiding? What happened during the years when we weren't part of each other's lives? Why did he leave when we were little and never came back until now? Why did he come back? Questions flooded my mind; questions that I didn't have answers for.

Falling asleep last night was hard to do with so much on my mind. Percy, that woman I saw at the window today, dad, and mom…

Sunlight was peaking through the blinds in my room as I woke up listening to my iPod, so I used a hand to block my eyes from the bright rays. I turned over to read the clock: 7:50. Shit. I had 10 minutes until school starts. Scrambling out of my bed, I sprinted to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, I looked at my reflection. Hideous. There were dark circles under my eyes, and tear streaks on my cheeks. I don't even remember crying. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and reluctantly applied some make-up to hide what insomnia had done to me.

I went back to my room to grab my books and shoved them roughly in my bag. Swinging it over my shoulder, I ran downstairs, ignoring the fact that my dad had shut himself in his office, like usual, but I know he'll be heading out in a while to a meeting of some kind. My stepmom and stepbrothers weren't home for breakfast. Another day without the most important meal of the day! But this is the kind of life I'm used to. Casting a glance at my watch, I noticed it was 7:56. I have a perfect attendance record. I will NOT be late.

I felt the wind flowing through my hair as I began to run. I hated the feeling of my backpack bouncing up and down my shoulder and my hair constantly whipping me in the face. Pausing for a moment at an intersection to wait for the green light, I checked my watch. 7:59. Green green green, I thought, as if the light will magically change. Shuffling my feet, I impatiently waited, looking at my watch once every few second. Finally, the light turned.

As I stepped off the sidewalk, a truck zoomed across in front of me and ran the red light, causing me to scream. Tires squealed but it was too late to stop. The truck rammed into the side of a small car that was driving parallel to the way I was walking. The small car flipped over onto its roof and sank down. Blood immediately started to seep out slowly from the door. The truck stopped for a second, before performing a hit and run. Looking around, I realized there was no one around. Call 911! My brain yelled.

I dropped my bag on the ground, quickly letting out a panicked "oh my god." It wasn't until I pulled out my phone out of my back pocket until I realized my vision was blurred. I wiped my eyes wildly with my hands, but fresh tears came and fogged up my view again. I need to stop crying. I looked around for help, but no movement was detected, only the dark red blood that was spreading to the middle of the road now. I wiped my eyes again and took a breath. My body felt tingly; my hands were cold and numb. As I was fidgeting with my phone to press in my password, it dropped out of my hand and bounced away, causing me to shrieked in frustration. I fell to my knees and swiped around with my hands, trying to find my phone through my clouded vision. My heart pumped loudly and frantically. If someone dies, it's going to be my fault for not calling the ambulance on time. My fault. Someone's going to die because of me. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook me, and I suddenly felt sick. I took quick deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't working. Why is it always me? I can't do this. I can't. I started to cry harder again. Then, I felt strong arms lift me up. I didn't hesitate to fall into them.

"Dad?" I questioned, my voice hoarse from crying.

"I'm here." He replied, far more emotional than what I was used to.

"Did you call 911?" I asked, sniffling.

"Yes, they are coming in a few minutes." He responded, clutching me closer.

Stuffing my face into his familiar scented shirt, half hiding from embarrassment, half needing something to calm me down, I wept a little more, feeling weak, vulnerable, and fragile. I remembered when mom was still alive, whenever I got hurt, dad would come and give me one of his big, warm hugs. I always felt safe and loved in his arms. But after mom died, he and I had drifted off in opposite directions, avoiding the recollection of old, happy family times that would cause us pain and heartache. I snuggled closer trying to hold onto the rare moment of affection. Being close to him felt natural, out of habit, even after more than two years.

After clinching onto each other for several more minutes, I heard the distant sirens of the police, fire truck, and ambulance.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out all the noises. A cop came to us.

"I need the witness to come with me please."

I sighed. Reluctantly, I turned around, out of the tight embrace. Still sniffing, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and tried to make myself somewhat presentable. My dad stiffened beside me, the awkwardness between us is already gradually coming back. He didn't know what to do now.

"It's okay, dad, go to work. I'll be fine." I tried to give him a weak smile.

He simply nodded. With a twitch of his mouth, he returned to his car.

I averted my eyes from his back and directed my attention to the cop. He seemed uneasy witnessing all this family drama. Quickly, he focused his attention on the clipboard in his hands and instantly turned professional.

"Can you describe the accident?"

"A truck ran the red light and hit the car."

"Did you see the driver that hit and ran?"

"No."

"Do you remember his license plate?"

"No."

"Was there anyone else who witnessed this accident?"

"I was the only one here."

"Do you have any other information useful to this investigation."

"I…don't think so?"

By the time the cop finished interrogating me, the wrecked car was attached to a car hauler and medics were loading a bloodied shape onto a stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

I turned away from the gory sight; but I needed to know if the person injured was okay.

"You are free to go." The cop announced, returning to his vehicle.

"Wait! Are you going to the hospital?" I didn't wait for an answer. "I need to come too. I need to see if the victim's going to live or not."

He looked at me with hesitance; maybe out of sympathy for witnessing such a horrid event, or maybe he just didn't see the harm of me coming along, and nodded. I ran to him and stepped into a police car for the first time in my life.

I wanted to laugh at the awkward silence in the car. I wanted to laugh at the confused face my teachers would make today when they realize their best student, who never missed a class, was absent. I let out a muffled giggle. The cop glimpsed weirdly at me in his peripheral vision, however I just ignored him.

When we arrived at the hospital, I thanked him. But before he left, I remembered a very important question.

"What's the victim's name and age?"

The cop turned, "Bianca di Angelo. Age 17."

Thankfully, I didn't recognize the name.

I said my final thanks and walked towards the front desk. There were about a dozen people, scattered in the waiting room. Some people were on their phones and reading magazines, some people were just numbly sitting there staring into space, and some people were pacing around with anxious expressions.

I stopped at the front desk, causing the nurse looks up.

"May I help you?" She apathetically asked.

"Um. What's the status on Bianca di Angelo?" I asked quietly.

She typed something in her computer, "Undetermined, doctors still working on her."

"Thank you." I said, backing away from the desk and sat on a white chair against the wall. If she dies, it's going to be my fault for not calling the ambulance on time. My fault. She might die because of me. I pulled my legs up and hugged them, letting my head fall back against the wall while closing my eyes. I decided to stop thinking about the situation; it's not going to get me anywhere right now.

I was snapped back in reality when a boy dashed in loudly. I didn't get a glimpse of his face before his back faced me as he talked to the front desk lady. He was sporting all black, while his black hair was tousled like a tornado had gone through it. I looked at him curiously. There was an urgency to his pleads. I caught the words "Di Angelo" and "car accident," causing me to straighten up and trying to listen more closely.

"Family member?"

"Yes! I'm her brother!" He rebuked, clearly annoyed.

"Her condition right now is critical; the Doctor's still working on her."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Okay." He turned and sat in a chair across from me.

I sat still, unable to conjure any courage to go up and talk to him.

After what seemed like a million years, a doctor came out with a grimace.

"Di Angelo family?" He called.

The boy jumped up, but so did I, causing a strange glance cast in my way. I sat back down, not wanting him to know whom I was if anything happened to his sister.

"How is she?" Luckily, I was near where the doctor stood so I could hear their whole conversation.

The doctor paused, "I'm sorry for your loss." He said in a tone that sounded rehearsed, like he had said the same sentence before countless times. As if he had worked on a half-dead body under his hands all the time. As if he had seen the life of a person slip away as he stood there, like he was used to not being able to help someone who was dying, withering in pain. As if he was used to watching family members and friends fall to their knees sobbing their hearts out, wailing for their lost loved ones to miraculously recover.

The boy's jaw dropped. My fault for not calling the ambulance on time. My fault. She died because of me. I suddenly couldn't take it anymore. I shot up from my seat, and without looking back, I fled.

Running blindly through the streets was not a pleasant experience. I had no idea where I was going; bumping into people, tripping over shoes. Ignoring the angry pedestrians behind me, I focused on the whistle of the wind in my ears as I ran, with no final destination in my mind.

Out of prewritten chapters and I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter D: REVIEW PLEASE I NEED FEEDBACK! at least 3 more reviews for next chapter?