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"You," Bronte breathed shakily, freezing in her spot, her eyes glued onto the boy in front of her.
She felt like she couldn't breathe, as if all the oxygen in the air had suddenly disappeared. All color drained from her face as she stared with wide eyes at the person she loved most in the world. The one person she thought was dead for the past two years of her life. Michelangelo Richards.
She had grieved over him. She had spent countless hours crying and wishing that it was her lying on the ground instead of him. What kind of twelve year old does that?
Bronte had forced herself to get over him if she wanted to move on in life. She found three wonderful friends who filled the void he had left in her heart. They became her family and she wouldn't change them for anything. No matter how weird or crazy they may be.
She didn't know what to do. She stood in shock, with Percy right behind her. He was shaking her shoulder, but Bronte hadn't even realized. She was more focused on the fact that she could somehow feel the air swarming around her, funneling in a transparent vortex. She was slowly starting to shake more and more, but she didn't know if it was from being hurt or the rage flowing through her body.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
The possibility that this was really her dead brother standing in front of her was impossible. Bronte couldn't even bring herself to admit that it could be probable.
She saw him die. She saw the black ashes surrounding his body and the blood soaking his clothes, along with her own. She felt the electricity that was coursing through his veins and didn't even stop to wonder how that was possible.
Now, as he stood so casually in front of her, Bronte felt that electricity again, except now it was running through her body. Her senses heightened and she somehow picked up on everything that was going on. Time seemed to slow to a halt, as the air stilled around them.
"You're dead," she stumbled out, her face pale and her words hollow. But her voice was filled with so much emotion. "I saw you die."
Mikey held his arms out in a grand gesture, as if he thought Bronte would come running to him for a hug. "I got better," he said, placing his trash down and walking towards her.
Bronte took a step back, not wanting to be anywhere near her not-so-dead brother. She ended up stepping on Percy's foot, but his short cry of pain went unheard.
He steadied Bronte by placing his hands on her shoulders, shaking them lightly to snap her out of whatever trance she had gotten stuck in.
Percy had never seen Bronte this distraught, and only wondered what happened to make her react this way. He didn't know who this guy from the Apollo cabin was and he didn't know how Bronte knew him. She saw him die? How was that even possible if they had just arrived at camp?
