When we hit the water, I couldn't tell if we'd been sailing through the Bermuda Triangle or the Arctic Sea. Between the humid air and the fire that had been cooking us from under the deck of the ship, the water was like ice, turning my muscles into lead. The surface began to disappear and the dull sunlight that made it through the clouds was swallowed by the sickening green tint of the water.
Water rushed in my ears, pressure building against my eardrums and murky salt water stinging my eyes. I couldn't see Clarisse.
I was alone.
Completely vulnerable.
Blind to any danger lurking below.
Which direction even was 'below?' I couldn't tell which way was up or down; I couldn't remember if I'd broken the surface head or foot first.
I fought the instinct to take a breath, the need to supply oxygen to the blood forcing its way through my veins at the command of my frantically beating heart. I remembered a trick I'd learned once, from some Titanic documentary. I'd held on to that little information for years as my hope for survival. Or maybe I'd heard about it in a boat safety course; it wasn't important now.
Green dropping off into darkness enveloped my sight when I squinted through the sting of the water. With hesitance, I let out a bubble of air, believing with all I had that I could watch the bubble and get my bearings, even follow it up to the surface. But it disappeared from my blurry vision as soon as I'd let it go.
Had it gone right or left? Up or down? I had no idea. I was lost and running out of time. My only hope was just wasted air; and wasted time. I'd only brought myself a couple of seconds closer to drowning.
These waters held horrors like Charybdis; what other creatures were waiting in the darkness? Their monstrous figures about to appear from the nothingness any second?
Something warm curled around my ankle.
Panic took over what little sense I had left as I kicked at the contact, the water robbing me of even more air when I couldn't hold back a scream. I was going to be dragged down into the abyss and torn into pieces. After all my years of running from monsters, after all that time spent training to fight them off, I was going to become monster-mash and red-tinted water in the Sea of Monsters without being able to put up a proper fight.
It was probably still a better end than most Half-Bloods got.
Yeeap, end of story, Wren fucking dies
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Red Skies at Morning | Clarisse La Rue x OC | Percy Jackson AU
FanfictionAn AU of PJO that takes place during the events of The Lightning Thief and The Sea of Monsters. Summary: Zoe "Wren" Botha has been part of the undecided residents of Cabin 11 for two years. She has no desire to run errands for the gods and is quite...
