One Year Later
This past year has been a living hell for me and everyone else at camp. We've been on high security watch ever since Percy went missing. They say he was either last seen talking to Clarisse or Luke - I can't remember which, but either way, I knew he couldn't be in good hands. I cringed, thinking about what he might be going through. I beat myself up and pulled my hair for not being there on the last day he was seen. Percy's 17th birthday had just passed and I wasn't taking it well.
We had so much planned.. Our lives in the future and our goals. And all of that was taken away from me. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night, and there was no one to console me. Nobody understood that my heart took a sharp blow when the realization that Percy was gone had finally hit me. If I could compare it to something, I'd compare it to being hit by a truck on a freeway and being completely squashed.
There was no trace of him leaving. Not even a note in case he decided to run away from it all. No way of knowing if he was dead or alive. That was the part that killed me. As I splashed some crystal-clear water onto my face in the sink, the scars on my wrists came into view. The water reminded me of Percy - Hell, everything reminded me of him. I'd been told I was suffering from severe depression, sort of like what old people cope with when one half dies. Maybe I'd make it through this, or maybe I'd die trying.
I ran the comb through my now short hair and didn't even bother to look in the mirror before I left the room. I glanced at my unfinished sculpture from last year that I was planning to give Percy on his birthday. I had no intentions to finish it. I couldn't even tell what it was, really. It was just there every day, haunting me. You weren't even here on his last day. You should be disappointed in yourself, Annabeth. It was as if the ugly thing came to life and spoke to me. No matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to free myself from this neverending guilt.
I walked over to it and tossed it onto the hardwood floor. "You mean nothing." I stepped on the smaller broken pieces in efforts to condense them even more. Now, there was a huge mess on the floor. I didn't care. Then, a thought crossed my mind. If Percy wasn't found soon, would they just give up and presume him dead? Would they lose all hope and build a memorial grave for him? Tears began to well in my eyes at the thought of it. It would haunt me every day, just like the now diminished sculpture.
The gods wanted no part in this whatsoever. If they got involved, it would be just like when the lightning bolt was stolen. They would start calling each other names and accusing their children of causing chaos. Sometimes my mother communicated with me and tried her best to reassure me. It'll get better, child. One day, he'll be found. But it wasn't enough to calm me down, because there was always that doubt in the back of my mind: What if he's dead? What if he never comes back?