The Blood of Olympus

Chapter Seventy-Two: Percy

Hiii :) 

So it's been 18 days since I updated and I have a big sorry for all of you. School drama, fangirling and some other problems kinda effected how much free time I had. 

But this chapter is quite long and spent a lot of time on it thanks to a massive writers block ahaha XD I rewrote this one 5 times. 

Enjoy!

CRACK! The whip sliced right through his shirt and the skin like it was paper.

“AWAKE!” Gaia cried again, and the earth shuddered once more.

CRACK!

And then another voice in the back of his mind.

Awake!  It said.

His world tumbled into blackness...

 

Percy

Let me out.

Percy jerked awake, emerging from a world of inky darkness to a world of overwhelming colour and sound and feeling.

Once his eyes focused, he realized he was lying on the ground, his right cheek pressed against the cool cobblestones. Light flooded his vision as he slowly adjusted, his surroundings gradually coming into focus.

Let me out. The voice murmured again, and Percy felt his head throb in protest. However, that pain was nothing compared to the agony racing up and down his back like fire.

He shifted slightly, his right arm clawing uselessly at the ground as he tried to push himself up. But the strain of being tortured had taken its toll on his muscles, and he barely had the strength to raise his head.

He heard the bellowing of the giants and the shouts of his friends as they fought, but he felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears, which, he knew from experience, was not a good sign.

He mentally ran through several causes. Blood loss seemed the most likely, but judging from the dull but persistent throbbing of his head, he was probably suffering from concussion as well.

Get over it. He told himself, gritting his teeth in an effort to block out the pain. He needed to help his friends. He couldn’t just lay there while his friends fought for their lives.

He exhaled heavily as he pushed up with his right arm, his whole body trembling with the effort of sitting up. Losing his balance momentarily, he caught himself with his left arm, only to cry out as a terrible pain shot through the entire arm.

He fell back onto his side, his left arm cradled against his chest. He inspected it gingerly, not willing to feel that nauseating agony ever again.

His arm was a mess of purple, black and blue bruises and heated, swollen flesh. On the underside of his forearm, just above the elbow, the skin stretched to accommodate the broken bone protruding from where it had been completely snapped in half. Percy turned his head away from the sight before he could be sick.

Keep going. He told himself, and with a lot of effort, managed to sit up again.

Though his vision was still slightly blurred, he scanned his surroundings and not at all liking what he saw.