Dear Secrets, Please Fly Quietly

10) Apollo's Depression

I walked left, then right, then left, then right, left, right left, right, left. I paced back and forth, my blonde hair alight with anger. Artemis, my older-by-nine-minutes twin sister, was watching from a few feet away. "Apollo," she said gently.

"Artemis." I waited until I had her attention. "Leave. Me. Alone. Do not speak to me, do not touch me, do not even look at me."

She wavered for a tense second, and silently left. After she had gone, I sat down and stared out across the ocean, the setting sun warming my exposed back. I conjured the same bottle of bourbon I gave Hermes in the alley. I sipped a little, which sort of turned into a lot. "How could he betray me like that?" I asked the water, hoping that Poseidon didn't actually respond. "After all we've been through..."

Sometime after the sun had touched the horizon, I went inside. Breathing rather a heavily, I entered the bathroom and stared blankly at my reflection before dropping my head on the marble counter a little harder than I intended to. "Ow." I muttered half-heartedly. I pushed myself up and glanced in the mirror.

My long blonde hair was disheveled, some strands sticking to my sweaty face. My blue eyes were bloodshot and wild, kind of making me look like I belong in an insane asylum. Funny thing is, I probably do. After what happened at Delos.

Anger rose in me again. Hermes made me like this. If he hadn't broken his promise, I wouldn't have a bottle of antidepressants in the cabinet. If he hadn't broken his promise, nothing would have ever happened at Delos. If he hadn't broken his promise, Mom would be alive.

Pain erupted in my left hand. In my rage, I had accidently crushed the glass bourbon bottle. Glass immediately followed by bourbon was in my hand and I gained a new respect for anesthesia. Shakily, I turned my hand over and slowly removed the larger shards with my free hand. The near-microscopic bits I took out with a very careful hand and a pair of tweezers. Once the glass was out so it didn't get trapped under my skin, I self-healed the cuts. The perks of being the god of medicine.

I frowned at the broken bottle, longing for it to be full. Suddenly, I realized something. This is stupid! Flipping back and forth from angry to sad on a dime, from one end of the depression spectrum to another. Where were those bipolar depression pills?

I ripped open the cabinet, searching wildly for the bottle of antidepressants. When I finally found it, I saw it was empty. A few seconds afterward, it began to fill with my tears. "No!" I groaned quietly. I sounded like a whining, howling dog. Switching gears, I rummaged through all the bottles and containers in there (mostly hair products) for the other medicine, but to no avail. There was nothing for my bipolarity or depression. "Time for Plan B." I said, teleporting myself to Camp Half-Blood. "Alcohol."

"DIONYSUS! WHERE ARE- you..." I calmed down marginally after I saw he was sitting right in front of me, but remained panicked. I had only come here for one reason.

He opened his violet eyes and gave an annoyed, disapproving frown. "Right in front of you. Directly in front of you."

I was not interested in small talk. And Dionysus knew I wanted.

Chiron shuffled his hooves from the corner of the room. I had honestly forgotten he existed. His white coat was turned silver as he stepped into the light of a moonlit window. "Apollo, I suspect that you should know this more than anyone, but it is night. People are asleep, and I would appreciate if their rest was undisturbed."

Ignoring the centaur, I turned toward Dionysus, growing agitated with him. "You know why I'm here, Di. Don't tantalize me like this."

Chiron tensed. "Please don't remind me of him." He said bitterly. I hastily apologized, blaming word choice, and immediately turned back to the wine god.

"I haven't done anything, Sunbeam." Dionysus said calmly, and in my opinion, rudely nonchalant.

I was at my wit's end. "THAT'S THE PROBLEM!" I shouted.

"Apollo!" Chiron hissed, stamping his hoof down. "Hush!"

Unfortunately, I was on a roll. "I CAME ALL THIS WAY BECAUSE I RAN OUT OF PILLS AND I DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO MAKE MORE AND I BROKE THE BOTTLE AND I NEVER-" I paused for air. "would have been in this stupid situation if Hermes never showed him that memory or Percy, was, dead!" I concluded breathlessly, hot angry tears streaming down my face.

Chiron glared at me. "Apollo, I said hush! What are you talking about Percy dying and memories? You're drunk, Apollo, go home."

"Not he's not." Dionysus whispered. "I know drunk when I see it. And that's the problem. Apollo and I have some- business to tend to. You go to sleep."

Returning to his corner, Chiron continued to glare. "Fine, I want you gone by midnight and no evidence of this." With that, he closed his eyes and was silent.

Dionysus and I sat across from each other at a table he conjured up. As he spread his hands, a large array of alcohol presented itself, growing lighter in color from my left. "Pick your poison."

I groaned, resting my head on the table in defeat. "Too many optioooonnnnssss..." I slurred.

With a shrug, Dionysus moved to take them away, but I quickly rescued a clear bottle from his gasp.

"Mine." I said curtly. I held it close to my body, shielding it from Dionysus. Honestly, I had no idea what I was even holding, but at that point it didn't matter. I opened it and drank. Bad idea.

As soon as it touched my tongue, fire erupted in my nose and mouth (figuratively). I coughed, gasping for air, and Dionysus called me weak.

"What in Styx is this?!" I cried.

"Not the bourbon you had earlier, huh?" He laughed. "You just got a taste of 200 proof moonshine."

I frowned, wiping the spit off my mouth. "Why do you have to make this difficult?" I whined.

He smirked. "I'm not the one who chose that as 'mine'. I mean, you can keep it, but-"

"You know what I want." I said flatly, setting the bottle down. There was no way I was keeping that. I clenched my jaw. "Give it to me. Now."

Dionysus shrugged indifferently. "Why didn't you say so?"

Before I could porcupine him and shot a thousand arrows in his back (making him look like a porcupine), the god whacked me upside the head with his grapevine staff. The last thing I remember is the smell of alcohol and feeling like I was floating very, very far away.