Masked Hearts

Chapter 8 - Octavian's P.O.V.

I'm not stupid.

I listen to Beyonce, a little.

I've heard the song Irreplaceable. In this case Camp Jupiter is Beyonce and I'm the guy whose stuff is in the box to its left. I'm not the irreplaceable one in this scenario. I'm never going to be.

I rifled through my stuff.

AUGUSTUS!

I squeezed the little raccoon to death, glad no one can see it, before seeing a note stuck to the side.

"Gonna cut this one open too, freak?" My augur knife lay next to it.

No. No I'm not.

That's not what I'm going to cut open.

But thanks for the knife, Dakota, Bobby, Reyna. I don't know who wrote the note. It could've been anyone.

All of them would've done it.

I hate that all of them would've done it.

The thing is, I really wanted to be friends with all of them. With each and every one of them.

When I started camp, I thought I was going to have a lot of friends. I was happy through the hurt for as long as the happiness could last.

I can't remember the day my soul broke.

It happened in pieces, I think.

Every prank.

Snide remark.

Rumor.

Smirk in my direction.

Laugh, just in hearing range.

Every time I go left out.

I knew.

And I hurt.

Birthdays, a lot of them, tons of them, no one showed up to parties I planned for myself. No one said Happy Birthday. No one ever even smiled at me. Except when I was leaving. I bet they're smiling now.

I'm not allowed to come back.

I knew I wouldn't be. I have no plans to return. My Roman loyalty has dissolved into a hatred of the world. I'm not trying to prove myself like I had been a few days ago.

A few days ago I had seen myself ruling both camps with an iron fist.

Now, my fists feel more like soft butter, and my resolve to rule has turned to a desperation to either die or get out quick.

Where'm I going? Who knows.

Will I end up dead? Hopefully.

But it will be escape. I've so needed escape. I've been so desperate for a world outside of this one. Outside of camp. Outside of Hate. Outside of never fitting in. Never matching up.

I will never be as respected as Reyna.

Never as popular as Jason or Percy.

I won't even ever be as talented as that stupid Oracle.

I'm sure she has a life outside of this all.

A nice life. With friends. And a family.

My family rejected me, my friends... Well. Augustus still likes me.

"i won't slice you up Augustus. I'm glad you came back with me. I hope they bury you with me. But if they burn me I hope you're spared... I'll put it in my will... Do you think I should have a will? Would it even be respected? I can hardly see, I couldn't really write one..." I pick through the rest of the box with mild interest. My toga, some other clothes. I change into my favorite blue shirt. I'd always told myself purple was my favorite color because it was the camp color, but I was always drawn to blue clothes. Blue is my favorite color.