The Graveyard

It was almost ten at night, most campers were asleep, or at least in bed. The son of Hades was an exception, he was suited up in a black jacket, dark grey skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with a white circle in the middle. Nico Di'Angelo stalked through the grave yard at the edge of camp, know exactly where to go.
Twelve rows back, four from the left. He repeated it like a mantra. That and the date December nineteenth, Bianca's death date. It was the anniversary of his beautiful sisters' death.
His knees were already wobbling when he was ten rows back, but when he stood at the foot of the giant angle Chiron had chosen as a burial marker, they finally gave out.
He fell to his skinny knees, a perfect tear ran down his cold, pale cheek.
"Bianca?" he whispered, like he was trying to wake her. Another tear rolled down his cheek, then another. It wasn't long before he was full on sobbing into his leather jacket.