A Mortal Fool

Memories and Flowers

Hey everyone, I'm currently out of inspo for the story! So here's a filler chapter while I try to figure out what to add next, and cry in my hole of no motivation! tw for loss of a family member

Kayla

Flashback:

We were watching FRIENDS when the news came. An old man in a wheelchair knocked on our door. My dad opened it, not me. I thought it was just one of Silena's odd friends that came and went. Looking back, I suppose I was right.

Dad and the old man exchanged a few short words, before Dad closed the door and the old man left.

He sat down next to me, and whispered, "She's in Elysium now."

Elysium? But wasn't that Greek? We weren't Greek! My confused thoughts were interrupted by a single tear falling on my hand.

The realization hit me like a truck. We weren't Greek. But Silena was.

My shoulders shook as I leaned into my dad. We sobbed for the rest of the afternoon, the TV show blaring on, forgotten.

What was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon, had become a day of mourning. I didnt get much sleep that night, my body shaking with tears.

The days that followed seemed like a messy blur. They were spent in silence, the only sounds being the hum of the washing machine and stove. Flowers arrived at our door, each bouquet perfectly arranged. The address was from Silena's camp, the place where she went every summer. She said it was only for demigods, and I never questioned it. I knew it was dangerous. I also knew that the camp was how she died.

I threw the flowers away.

They kept coming and coming, until the trash was filled to the brim with flowers and their strong scents. The house reeked of various floral arrangements and magic. Even though I was human, I could feel a slight buzz from the magic in the air. I hated it.

So one day, I ran outside of the house, desperate to escape the flowers and tears and the thick choke of magic all around me.

I climbed the hills, hugging my knees to my chest. I could breathe, finally.

Every day, I went back to that hill. It was my escape. And when we moved neighborhoods, I was grateful. Maybe the camp wouldn't be able to find us.

We could breathe easier now. We smiled more, and one day, I hear my dad singing. We accepted she was gone. We knew she was in a better place. We had moved on.

Two weeks after we moved in, they sent her burial shroud to our doorstep.