Percy Jackson's Last Breath

H I S  R E T U R N
P A R T 1

Everything about him was wrong. His head was cast down at an angle where no one could see his face. Gone were his broad shoulders and his muscled legs, now they were twigs that seemed so delicate to the touch. He was sitting on the floor with his back hunched, making every singe bone from his spine prominent. His arms, or what just seemed like bones with very thin skin, were wrapped around his body, covering himself from exposure. He was sitting with one leg propped up while the other was crossed, like criss-cross-applesauce.

Despite the fact that Percy was in the open, alive, and very naked, people stared at him and his unrecognizable body. Leaves and dirt and various other gunk from Tartarus adorn his unruly tired and worn out body. Blood stained him, covered him from head to toe. But there was one thing that caught everyone's attention. His scars. There were scars of all different size, shape, and color. His pale, white skin made everything incredibly visible. From his frail, thin veins to his bruises.

Every single inch of him was covered in scars.

The camp was dead silent, not one person dared to even breathe. Not many could anyway.

Annabeth watched him with unbelieving eyes as he very slowly raised his head. She couldn't think, couldn't process what was happening in front of her. A part of her screamed at her to run into Percy's arms and never let go of him ever again, another tells her to stay and wait until things play out, but even if she was able to make up her mind, her body seemed to be stuck. Frozen.

People watched in anticipation as Percy raised his head.  They all held their breaths, taking in as much detail on his face as they could see.

Once his face was fully shown, Annabeth's already broken heart seemed to just crumble into the tiniest of pieces. She felt like the air was knocked out of her lungs and she covered her mouth to suppress a sob.

If they had thought his body was  terrifying, his face was even worse. Much worse. Cuts and bruises decorated his face. And that's not what's bad about it. His face was unbelievably skinny. Just like the rest of him. There was absolutely no fat or even meat on his skull. He looks completely deprived of anything and everything. He was horribly malnourished causing him to have no hair. His face seemed so hollow, his cheeks dark and sunken. Ragged lines covered his face , from red to yellow to a nasty shade of blue and grey.

It was quiet, not one out of the hundreds, muttered a word. Their bodies frozen out of shock and were too overwhelmed by the variety of emotions they were feeling.

Pity.

Pity for the boy who had been wronged almost his whole life.

Sadness.

Sadness for the genuine boy who touched people's hearts.

Frightened.

Frightened at the fact that this young demigod is too powerful and if he wanted to, he could put an end to anything.

Angry.

Unbelievably angry at the thought of someone hurting their hero to the point of not being able to recognize him.

Annabeth's brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that she was shocked and terrified. She closed her mouth, then looked at her feet before glancing back up to catch Percy's eye.