GO FORWARD AND BE EATEN.
GO BACK AND REGRET IT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.
NOT MUCH OF A CHOICE, IS IT?
Okay, I feel as though I should aplogize for all the mistakes in my earliar chapters. It's so embarassing reading my own story and seeing all the awful spelling and grammer. I'm sorry. Yes, this is short too. But I really wanted to write it. I did consider having them both die, but it would really ruin my reputation. Sigh. I guess I will have to save the line, and quietly, peacefully, they died, for another story. Oh well.
He was somewhere between life and death, not really conscious.
Why don't they just kill me, he wondered, please, let them kill me.
Death was better than this.
He was vaguely aware of the cuffs cutting into his wrists, pulling his arms up, and of the hard stone floor under his knees.
The dark was pressing in on him, trying to take him.
He didn't really register the sound of the door opening, or the slice of flesh and the thump of a body hitting the floor.
He only realized that there was someone in the room, besides him and the now dead guard, when a hand touched his face.
The hand was rough like his from years of fighting, but slender and very warm.
If he could move, he might have cried, because nothing that made him feel so good, so warm, would ever agree to kill him.
The hand stroked his face, and then moved down his chest while another brushed the skin next to the cuffs.
There was a grating sound of clashing metal and the cuffs fell off.
He slumped to the ground, to weak to control his own body.
The hands rolled him over, gripping his hair, shaking him, trying to get him to move.
With the last bit of his strength, he forced his eyes open half way to see the blurry outline of blonde curls and stormy grey eyes.
Storms.
Raining.
It was raining.
He could feel drops of water falling on his face, so it must be raining.
That's why he saw storm clouds.
The last thing he heard was a siren, crying to the storm.
Then the blackness engulfed him.
Percy opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the ceiling. That couldn't be right. He was captured, imprisoned in a dark and lonely cell, half dead. Not lying in his bed at the house he shared with Annabeth. But he was.
"Percy?"
He looked around and saw Annabeth standing next to the bed, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I-I thought . . . I thought you were going to . . ." she swallowed, rubbing her bloodshot eyes and swaying slightly.
Wordlessly, he held out a hand. She took it and he rubbed his thumb across her rough, warm, palm. Percy pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her to his chest. She gripped his waist with her knees and twisted her hands in his shirt, shivering violently. Not crying, just shaking uncontrollably. He gently traced her spine under her shirt, holding her until she recovered from the shock.
Then they slept.
Wow. That was . . .sad. Sadder than I expected. Sorry.
Next week is Leyna, so, Review!