The Half-Blood Project

35- Raging Battle

Percy Jackson

I always remembered my mother as I remembered Bianca. In the best way, I could. Bianca died protecting me and saving us. So did my mom. 

Of course, she made mistakes, we all did and I had forgiven her and let her rest in peace a long time ago, but it stills hurts knowing I'll never get to hug her again, feel secure, feel happy like that. I was proud of being her kid. I think I still am. 

Mom died when I was twelve. It's hazy and I kind of erased the memory from my mind to keep from breaking down every day with it imprinted on the flesh of my mind. 

When Gabe beat me, he blamed me for Mom dying. Cutting my skin open with broken beer bottle shards, slapping and punching me, yelling insults. Every day for nearly four months I didn't know If I'd live to see the next day. But I did. 

Gabe was dead. I beat him with a stool and ran so fast out of that apartment I only had time to grab three of my greatest keepsakes, a wedding band my father gave her, a photo of the two of us, and a necklace that still hangs from my neck, a silver chain that I strung the wedding band on and a couple of beads. 

I still have it around my neck. 

I don't know why my father gave my mother that wedding band, they didn't even marry or become engaged but I also didn't care, because every time I wrapped my fingers around the gold and bronze ring, I felt closer to my mother, even when I felt so far away from her. 

Everything that has happened to me did make me stronger, even if it left big imprints on my heart and took chunks of my soul from me and kept it at arm's length, but every time I reached for it, it always seemed too far from my reach and I was left clawing for what's left of it. 

--

When the volcano exploded I expected to die, smoke and fire, the ashy taste burned my nose and mouth, the fire burned my skin and singed my hair and I flew so high that Zeus would never forgive me. Then I fell back down towards Earth like a comet, hurtling through the clouds and to the sapphire stretch of the sea below me. 

It all turned dark. 

No dreams, no hallucinations, no visions or anything, just swimming in the pools of cool shadows lapping around me calmly. It was unnerving. Was I dead? 

Yeah, not even I could survive a volcanic explosion and live to tell the tale. 

Would I go to a place for her in the underworld, where we could party all day and n, high,t or would I end up in the Fields of Punishments for my crimes, the blood-soaked in my skin, and the scars riddling my body? 

Probably be punished for my crimes. I'd feel less guilty if I was punished, less ashamed. 

Colors bleed through the drapes of darkness, hues of blue and green, yellows and purples, the slight taste of salt and grain, my body feeling like it's been on fire forever and just put out, my bones ache like they've been broken repeatedly and my brain hurts as if it's been burned too. 

My eyes open and I'm on a stretch of sand, white, soft, sand, and water spreads out from below the dune I lay on, and the sun shines brightly from above. 

"Rest my hero, rest." A cool, soft voice sounds from behind me, I turn my head to see a pretty girl, maybe eighteen to the looks of it, with long caramel-colored hair, almond-shaped eyes, and fair skin with a small sad smile on her face. 

A cool cloth is draped over my forehead, I can feel my lips twisting, trying to form some form of the word. 

"Wh-what-where am I?" I croak out. The pretty girl smiles sadly again.