Chapter Twenty-Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own the PJO or HoO series by Rick Riodan.

Kyra's POV

It had been hours since a maid had escorted me to a bedroom. It was a nice bedroom, the walls were painted a marigold yellow, the floor was carpeted with light gray carpet, and the king sized bed was covered in a jade green bed spread, accompanied with more pillows than I could count.

I supposed I was still a prisoner, because after I had been brought in here, the maid had closed the door and locked it, and there was no way to unlock it from the inside.

I had just been laying on the bed for a while, listening to music. There was also a docking station in the room for any type of music player. Why would it be here if it weren't intended to be used?

A sudden clicking sound rings out over the music. I sit up and look at the door. The knob was rattling, like it was being unlocked. It swings open to reveal a different maid, and standing behind her, Nico and Mike.

I scramble onto my feet and push past the maid, throwing myself at them. I hug them close to me, not daring to let go.

I feel a light tap on my back and turn around to see the maid. She smiles slightly then motions for us to go into the room. I sigh and nod, pulling Nico and Mike into the bedroom.

"Someone will bring you dinner and fresh clothes for the two of you in a while." she says.

"Uh, thanks." Nico says, staring at her in confusion.

She closes the door and locks it again. Nico turns to me, still looking completely confused. I notice that he has a long cut running from the right side of his forehead diagonally to his left jaw bone. There was dried blood on his face from where it had gushed out of the cut.

Mike was seemingly untouched, except for a rather large red mark on his arm. He had dirt on his face and clothes, and there were dark red speckles on his green shirt. I assumed the specks were Nico's blood from the gash on his face.

"Oh gods, I'm so happy you two are alright." I say.

"What—why did they bring us up here?" he asks.

I sigh. "Because I asked him to? I don't know." I say.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and look down at my feet. "Mike, why don't you go wash up in the bathroom." I say, pointing to the door at the end of the room.

"Okay, mama." he says, turning around and making his way to the door. That was one of the great, and slightly peculiar, things about Mike; he hated being dirty. It was always so easy to get him to take a bath or wash his hands.

When he's out of earshot, Nico sits down next to me. "Okay, what happened? Who's this guy you asked to bring us up?" he asks.

I tell him about Osiris and how he seemed to want to know everything about my life, and how we played the question game for about an hour before he left.

"Something he said though, it brought a memory to my attention." I say, standing up.

"What was it?" he asks.

"Well, we were talking about Mike and his "special power" that he apparently has. He said he was either born with it or it was unintentionally given to him. I don't think there's really any way to know, but it brought to mind the day he was born." I say.

"Yea, what about it?" he asks, leaning forward slightly and looking at me. Something had happened that day that I didn't know about, that much was obvious. I could tell by the look in his eyes, and by the way he had tensed up a bit.

"I remembered how after he was born, you were right there next to me. You were nearly sobbing, Nico. Then you left and came back a few minutes later, saying that it was going to be okay. I always thought that maybe you were just so overcome with emotion that you couldn't help it, and that you were just telling me I could breathe now. But now—now I'm not so sure." I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

He seemed to shrink under my gaze. "Nico, what happened?" I ask.

He sighs and props his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands. "There were uhm, complications with Mike." he says.

"What do you mean 'complications?'" I ask.

"He was stillborn." he whispers.

"What?" I ask, thinking I had heard him wrong.

"You heard me. I—when I saw him, he was just—Ky, it was devastating." he chokes.

I stare at him, feeling slightly numb. How could he have not told me this before now? Why had it taken six years and then being kidnapped by a lunatic for me to get him to tell me what had happened?

A sour taste fills my mouth and I launch myself at him, smacking him and punching his chest. I couldn't contain the rage I felt right now. What the hell did he do to get Mike back?

"What did you do?! Who do you owe?! What did you do to get him back!" I scream.

"Ky! Kyra, stop!" he yells.

He grabs my wrists and pins me down on the bed, holding me still long enough so he could get his breath back. I was breathing heavily and I could feel hot tears streaming down my face. We meet eyes, dark brown piercing green.

"I wanted to die. I knew that when you found out, you might do something rash. So, I did the first thing that came to my mind." he says.

"And what was that?" I ask, my voice hoarse and broken.

"I called Walker." he says.

A/N:

I thought the part where she was punching him and smacking him and screaming at him needed to be in there. I mean, that's what I would've done if someone had dropped a bomb like that on me.

And if you were questioning a six year old who likes to be clean, thinking that there really isn't such a kind of child, there is. Three or four years ago, we had a little boy who came to pottery class who was like that. He despised being dirty and he was constantly asking our teacher if he could go wash his hands. I overheard his mom talking to our teacher one night and she said that she had been hoping having him work with clay and make things, that it would sorta help him.

Well, sorry for the late update. I was exhausted yesterday and didn't really have much time to get on my computer at all. Better late than never, right?

So I haven't talked to my teacher at all about switching class schedules, and we go back to class tomorrow and I'm freaking out a little. I want to go, but I don't want to have to put up with my friend or the older brother. That's going to be a pretty fucking awkward car ride tomorrow, since we pick her up on Thursdays. I obviously told my parents about what she said that offended me so much, I actually lost it and broke down in front of my dad when it happened. So yea, I don't want to even think about that. And man, I really hope there isn't a new student who's annoying as hell. I might just break my fingers if there is.

And my mom told me yesterday that my brother and sister-in-law are "worried about me?" My brother wouldn't come right out and tell her why they're worried about me, just that they are and to keep an eye on me.

This irritated me because they hardly ever see me! Like maybe once or twice a month, and that's only for a couple of hours usually. So how can they come to the conclusion that something is "wrong"or "going on with" me when they hardly ever see me?

My mom said that it might've been for the Lines Project. If you don't know what that is, it's in support for people who self harm, are depressed, suffer from anxiety, or a eating disorder. You draw six lines on your wrist with Shapie (pink, orange, yellow, clear {though I used a lighter yellow 'cause there's no such thing as a clear Sharpie}, blue, and black. You do this on you right wrist December 15-20th to show support, or if you suffer from any of the things aforementioned, you do it on your left wrist.

So anyway, my mom thought it was because I had done that. And I did it on both wrists, because I support people who need it who are going through that stuff, and I've also been depressed and have anxiety.

Still, that sort agitated me. We're going over to their apartment on Saturday night after my dad gets off work and eating dinner there.

M/A:

"'And all the boys are smoking menthols
Girls are getting back rubs
I will drift to you if you make yourself shake fast enough
My old aches become new again
My old friends become exes again

Whoa, where did the party go?
We're ending it on the phone
I'm not gonna go home alone
Whoa, where did the party go?'"

Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy.

(This song is my new obsession concerning music. God, it's so good!)

XOXO,

Mrs-diAngelo25