Shattered to Pieces |Percabeth Story |

9

Annabeth

Rachel is finally going back home tomorrow after a whole month of her sharing my bedroom. It's been torture living with her. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration but she's just so annoying and rude. I know that I have to be at least a little grateful because if it wasn't for her I'm sure I'd have gotten a ton of beatings from Ben.

She's still as oblivious as before. I'm surprised that she hasn't noticed the way I flinch if Ben comes near me or when I stop talking when he walks into the same room. I try to act normal but it's difficult after having to live through years of being careful about what you say or do.

"Are you going to help me or what?" Rachel huffs, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I snap my head up to look at her over on the other side of the room. Her hair is a frizzy mess, piled high on top of her head in a bun. Her face, for once, is free of make-up and though I hate to admit it she does look pretty without the many layers of paint.

"Excuse me?" I say, my brow furrowed as I watch her attempt to fold her clothes and put them in her large bag.

"I thought it was polite for the guest to get help," Rachel snaps. You'd think she'd be happy that she gets to go home tomorrow and get away from me.

"It's also polite to say 'please' but I never hear you use the word," I shoot back at her.

"Please, will you help me?" Rachel asks, glaring at me.

I force a fake smile and jump up from my seat on my bed. I tighten my robe around my body, the thick material hiding my pyjama shorts and my bra that I slept in last night.

I walk over to her pile of clothes and sit cross-legged near them. I grab a crinkled shirt and fold it up neatly before placing it in her bag. I go on to fold another item of clothing before I realise Rachel is staring at me.

"What?" I frown, looking up at her so I can see her face more clearly.

"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be. You don't seem like an attention seeking bitch... but you're still annoying," Rachel admits, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I ask, my eyes wide in surprise. She just shrugs and drops to her knees so she doesn't have to keep bending over to get her clothes from the floor. "Thanks, I guess."

We work together in silence for a while before she speaks up again. "So, what's up with you and Percy?"

I clear my throat and force myself not to react. "Nothing."

She snorts. "I so believe you," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't care what you believe. It's none of your business," I say, trying not to get annoyed.

"No need to get all defensive. People will think you're lying if you get so angry," Rachel teases. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath before going back to folding up Rachel's clothes. "He obviously likes you back."

"I don't know what you are talking about," I say through gritted teeth.

"Come on, I saw you and Percy kissing a few weeks ago." My eyes widen in disbelief. "Yeah, I was spying on you."

"Why didn't you tell Ben?" I ask, curiously.

"Didn't want to cause any trouble," she mutters, not meeting my eyes.

"But you love getting me in trouble. You know Ben would've went crazy if he found out and you would have loved that."

"That's what you think," she replies.

"I don't know what to think of you. You've been a bitch to me for as long as we've known each other and suddenly in the last fifteen minutes you are starting to sound... well, almost nice," I realise.

"Thanks."

"It's not really a compliment," I say. "Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you," Rachel quickly replies.

"I so believe you," I say, mimicking her from only a few minutes ago.

"I don't. Ever thought that's it's just..." she trails off. I look at her and can't help but notice she seems tense and nervous.

"Just what?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Maybe it's just an act. Maybe I only pretend to hate you," Rachel says.

"Why would you pretend to hate someone?" I ask.

"Maybe it helps my own situation," Rachel replies. She's talking in riddles.

"I don't understand."

"Don't worry," she sighs and picks up a pair of skinny jeans, folds them and puts them in her bag.

I watch her from the corner of my eyes, feeling that all along I've missed something and trying to find out what exactly I missed. Rachel clicks her neck and stretches her arms above her head as she yawns with her eyes squeezed shut.

Her pyjama top rises a few inches, revealing her stomach and a pink scar that I've never noticed before. I cock my head to the side and look more closely. I cover my mouth to stop a gasp from escaping past my lips.

That scar... looks kind of familiar.

I open up my robe, so I can see a small patch of my stomach, and stare at the scar Ben made when he stabbed jagged line that lies a few inches above my belly button looks nearly identical to Rachel's though hers is on her hip and much longer.

I turn my head to look at the floor after tightening my robe back up, just as Rachel opens her eyes and carries on with her task. I open my mouth to say something but then decide against it.

"Just spit it out," Rachel snaps, back to her usual self.

"Has... has Ben ever t-touched you?" I stutter.

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous," Rachel hisses though I can easily see the panic in her eyes.

"You would tell me if he did. Right?" I ask.

"Maybe... but he hasn't laid a finger on me. Ever," she insists. I decide I believe her.

"Has anyone?" I question.

"Has anyone what?"

"You know what I mean," I sigh.

"No one has hurt me before," Rachel lies. It's obvious, her hands are shaking and she won't meet my eyes.

"You can trust me," I promise.

"I know," she replies, finally meeting my gaze.

"Who gave you that scar on your hip?" I ask.

"Maybe I did," she replies, her eyes teary and desperate.

"You stabbed yourself?"

"What makes you think it's a knife mark?" she asks.

"I never said the mark was made by a knife. You said that. And I know because I have one, too." I show her the scar on my stomach. She grimaces and looks away from me.

She's silent for a few minutes while I think hard. It can't be her mom; Rachel talks about her all the time and she only mentions good stuff about her 'beautiful and rich mommy'.

Rachel never says anything about her dad, I suddenly realise. William Dare would never hurt her. He seemed like a nice guy when he came over the night Percy caught me stealing from the store.

Besides, he's a cop...

Ben is also a cop, I quickly remember. And only I know that he is an abusive idiot and looks like the perfect uncle to everyone else. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors. Maybe Rachel's dad is like Ben.

It would make sense why Rachel wears so much make-up and maybe she was always telling everyone not to believe the rumours about me because it gave me more attention so no one would suspect anything that goes on at her own home.

Oh god...

"You're smart," Rachel whispers. "I'm sure you'll figure it out without me having to tell you."

She's right.