Memories

The Basement

I slammed onto a rough, concrete floor, pain slicing up my shins. I winced in pain and tried to blink the black spots away from my eyes. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to realise that it wasn't my pain making my vision black, but rather the absolute absence of anything surrounding me. I spun in a literal blank panic, isolated from any sight or sound except for my own voice falling flat.

"Annabeth!" I yelled as I whipped out Riptide. "Nico! Are you here?"

My shouts hung in the air in vain. I felt my pulse quicken and a knot built in my stomach so tight that I felt sick, the ribbons of panic weaving themselves around my chest. I took two deep breaths, in for four, out for four and decided to dedicate myself to reason. What would Annabeth do?

First off, she'd figure out where she was. I held Riptide out in front of me, casting its soft glow upon the floor and the walls of wherever I was.

My blade cast golden shadows in front of me, lighting up what looked like a plain, concrete wall. Nothing exciting to anyone who had never been in this room. For me, the anxiety in my chest started strangling me again. I knew this room, these four box walls, this cold that radiated from every inch of the place.

Riptide cast its light along a small bed roll with a simple pillow chucked on top of it and a ragged, blue knitted blanked haphazardly thrown against the wall. Shaking, I stepped towards the bed roll, memories of this room flashing into my head like a projector on shuffle. I smelt the blanket before I reached it, its old blue colour dyed with a scarlet red, pieces of it flaking onto the floor.

Acid built in my throat and I jerked away from the blanket, twisting my body to vomit against the wall. A warm hand pressed against my back, rubbing in large, gentle circles.

"Shh," Annabeth hushed. "We're here, you're okay."

I clenched my jaw tight, taking deep breaths and steadying my thoughts. In, out: in, out.

"What is this place?" Nico gently kicked the blanket to the side, using his own blade as a torch.

"It's a sort of basement below my old apartment." I snatched up Riptide from where I had discarded it on the floor. I cast its glow against the wall where dozens of incomplete tallies scratched into the wall were the only form of decoration.

"What are these?" Nico asked, tracing the marks with his index finger.

I glanced at Annabeth quickly before answering, but I could tell from the sad and bitter look on her face that she had already assembled the pieces. "It's the number of days I was in here for. Every new tally is a new visit to this shithole."

"Gods, Percy. Some of these are over a weeklong," Nico cursed.

I shrugged and proceeded to look around. I found an old battery lantern that I would use, the bronze plating long corrupted with rust, and flicked it on. The rest of the room was bare; walls, floors, a blanket and a bucket. That's all that could be seen.

Well, that and a figure slumped in the corner.

Young Percy was wearing a pair of navy cotton shorts and a grey hoody, a set that I recognised from my days at Yancy Academy. I remembered this stint in the basement.

Annabeth tutted, "Percy you look about twelve. This can't have been long before you came to camp."

I nodded in confirmation. "I think this was Christmas break. It was the last time I was in here before Mom turned Gabe into a statue." Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but smile slightly.

The figure was bloodied and dark streaks of crimson sliced through the ghostly paleness of his skin. He was shaking from the cold, his thin hoodie not enough to shelter him from the unrelenting iciness of these stone floors and echoey walls. Young Percy was humming to himself, a gentle and breathy tune that was barely audible between his sniffles. Despite what it appeared, I knew that the word 'sad' definitely didn't really fit how Young Percy was feeling; he was mad and more disgruntled; angry that he had been forced into this hovel once again. He was waiting... boy did I used to enjoy the wait.