𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

a thousand curses

CHAPTER WARNING: MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE

ERITH JAY
ERITH ALWAYS HAD NIGHTMARES. She suspected that was because of the ghosts, because Luke always seemed to be in them.

But usually Leo's warm lips pressed against her temple, or Jason's soft hands wrapped around her torso, or Annabeth's soothing words blurred into nothing helped. Like her friends took the spirits and sent them away.

She had no such luck in Tartarus. She doubted the nightmares would've left her alone, even if Percy had wrapped his arms around her and slept with his cheek pressed against her forehead.

The first nightmare was a flashback that she tried to avoid.

First: a plate shattered on the wall right behind Erith's ear. Her stepfather was in a rage, face reddened, hurling glass.

"Ben," her mother was screaming. "Please!"

Benjamin advanced on her mother. "Please what? Were you ever going to tell me?"

Second: my fault.

This was the worst thing that would happen when they would fight. Her stepfather would throw things, usually glass, because he liked the destruction, liked the way the fragments shattered. Her mother would scream right back at him and eventually storm into their shared room, where she would slam the door and sob her lungs out.

This fight in particular was Erith's fault. She was thirteen, and Benjamin had just found out she was the child of a god.

"It's not my fault!" her mother shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth.

"Not your fault?" Ben grabbed another plate from the counter, clutching it in trembling hands. "You fucked a god and came up with her! How is it not your fault?"

Hope was shaking her head. Benjamin's eyes darkened. He wasn't satisfied―he never was.

Third: Another plate, thrown not at Hope, but at Erith.

The world was slow, like syrup draining down a plate. Erith saw, almost languidly, the plate hurling right at her head.

Rhine was cowering behind her legs, hands hooked into her shins, nails digging in.

She caught the plate and let it shatter on her hands. Blood, glass, and a mix of hatred and hopelessness.

Hope turned to stare at Erith. But she never defended her, never said a word against Benjamin if she could avoid it.

So she simply turned tail, ran to the bedroom she shared with her husband, and slammed the door.

Benjamin regarded Erith, and for a moment, she wondered if he would throw more plates. But he didn't. He spat on the floor, slammed his fist into the wall, and then stormed out of the door. A few seconds later, Erith heard the car start.

It was only then that the ringing in her ears faded, and she could hear Rhine crying.

―

THE SECOND NIGHTMARE: the night she approached camp.

It was dark, and there was a storm. Erith wasn't fond of storms. She was the daughter of the sun―not that Apollo had been much use.