TASTE OF YOU . . . percabeth

ten

AS EMMY SAT on a plush couch, attempting to work on her laptop while Annabeth was trying on dresses, her mind drifted. Ugh. What was taking Addy for if not to make her focus?

Those are the fingers of a killer, her mind supplied for her. The hand you're using for typing is the same hand that killed.

She didn't regret it at all. She could never, now that she knows that none of the bruises and scars she gained after her mother's death were inflicted by her. She didn't have to hide fresh bruises and barely healed scratches with makeup and pretend like everything was fine.

But that doesn't mean that she didn't feel the consequences, deep in her gut. That didn't mean that she didn't feel any guilt for ending a life — for ending her mother's life.

Still, she had no choice. It was yielding to a monster or be a monster. And she knew which she would rather be.

Maybe she should talk about this to someone. Maybe Percy would understand. He was the only one who knew her secret and she trusted with her guilt. He understood the guilt, too. Maybe. He only said that he'd escaped from an abusive parent. Not killed said abusive parent.

She couldn't talk to Annabeth, because she didn't know the entire circumstance around her mother's death. Aunt Presley would probably sprout some bullshit about it being her fault. And Theo was too young.

Or maybe she should just ignore it. That always worked with her emotions. It could work for awhile longer.

"Em," a deep, smooth voice brought her out of her thoughts, and her breath hitched when she saw who was in front of her.

Emmy stared at Annabeth, who was in a blue satin dress, the dress highlighting her features just right. Emmy noticed the amount of scars that were visible on her shoulders and chest.

She ignored those and smiled at her. She could've put on a bigger smile, but Annabeth deserved better than that. "You look gorgeous," she told Annabeth. "The dress looks good on you."

Annabeth smiled sheepishly. "Thanks. I think I'll buy it."

Emmy nodded. "That's a good choice."

Annabeth's smile faded, and she sat down next to her. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You look . . . lost in thought. You know you can tell me about anything."

Not this, Emmy thought. She nodded. "I'm fine," she lied.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "Emmy—"

"It's the symptoms," insisted Emmy, which wasn't a complete lie. "I got back on the ADHD meds. Needed to focus."

Annabeth examined her, and honestly Emmy was going to relent under that gaze when one of the workers at the shop said, "Miss? Can you change out of the dress?"

Annabeth replied, "yes, sorry," and stood up, giving Emmy another look. Then she went in the changing room, and Emmy let out a sigh of relief. Another successful dodging of lies. She's just so talented.

When Annabeth finished changing, they went to the register so Annabeth could buy the dress. Or, well, so Emmy could grab her credit card first and swipe it before Annabeth could do anything.

"Emmy." Annabeth said her name in such an angry tone, she flinched. She covered it up with an awkward laugh, putting her credit card in her wallet. "A thanks for putting up with me for the past month," she explained. The cashier handed Annabeth her bag, and they left the store.

"I wasn't actually angry at you," Annabeth said as they started walking to God knows where.

"I know," said Emmy. She did know that Annabeth would never hurt her. "Instinct."