agónizomai

to endeavor or earn something

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The world was once filled with gods and monsters. Gods, who ruled with power and might, against the monsters, who were bred in the shadows of sorrow. The wars that broke out between the two forces were what legends were crafted from.

But the gods were no more, and even their children had been forsaken.

But in a dark corner of the world, in a basement so deep within the ground that the air itself was stale, Annabeth Chase knew nothing about gods, and everything about monsters. The air was cold and harsh against her pale skin. She struggled to sit up for a few minutes before giving up and staying in her ripped clothes on the cold floor. There was hardly a difference; she hadn't been comfortable for years. Comfort was an illusion, one she had learned long ago not to chase. Her breath was visible from the small shards of light that poked through the floorboards, tantalizing the young woman for a bigger taste of brightness in any form.

Annabeth whimpered weakly as footsteps creaked mere feet above her head. She curled up into an even tighter ball, ignoring the searing pain that came along with rubbing her raw injuries across the rough ground. If there were footsteps, then he would come down, which meant more pain. Her breaking point, which he was so obsessed with finding, was close, yet she had somehow managed to keep it hidden from him. But Annabeth knew she couldn't last for much longer. She was falling apart, and rapidly.

The young woman ignored her grimy hair that appeared to be more gray than blond falling in front of her face. Instead, she focused on chanting the words in her head that had kept her sane throughout the past three years.

Agónizomai, agónizomai, agónizomai.

Although Annabeth wasn't completely sure what the word meant, she was certain it was an old language, one that she didn't remember ever learning. It had come to her in a dream, spoken by an unfamiliar gray-eyed woman. For some reason, that single word was enough to get her through even the worst tortures that he put her through.

In a single fluid motion, the floorboard that separated her from the rest of the world was ripped away, and Annabeth was almost blinded by the glaring light that rested behind the floor above her head. A shadow quickly blocked the light from her view, however, and she was left staring at a face she was forced into seeing once a day. Dolos.

He cocked his head and grinned. "Let's get started, shall we?" he asked, climbing down the ladder that led to the small cellar she was trapped in, pulling the floorboard back in place. All light was now gone, leaving nothing but him and shadows and a weak girl.

Annabeth didn't know who Dolos was, or exactly what he wanted from her. She had woken up two years ago, in this exact basement, and had yet to leave since. She didn't even bother fighting as Dolos approached her, the ever-present smirk etched on his face. She took the knife he gave her with a shaking hand, knowing all too well what happened next. It had all become routine by now.

He pressed her against the wall, the force more a show than a necessity. "Where is your dagger?" Dolos whispered softly into her ear.

Annabeth shook her head, the same thing that she had done for the past few years. Yet no matter how many times she told him that she didn't know, the investigation had continued.

His voice became much more firm, something sinister blooming in his dark gaze. "I'll ask you again: where is the dagger Luke Castellan gave to you many years ago?"

"I-I don't know," Annabeth managed to croak. "I've told you, I don't know. I can't remember any knife."

Tears ran down her face as those dead eyes stared into her own. No matter how many times she told the truth, Dolos took it as a lie and an opportunity to take it farther. To make her hurt much more.

He clucked his tongue. "Pity."

Against her will, the knife in her hand moved towards her left forearm. Her eyes weren't able to leave Dolos' captivating platinum ones. He looked at her, as if waiting for her to shout out it's exact location. But it had been too long that if Annabeth ever did know, it was long forgotten.

She remained silent, even when her own hand used the knife to slash a mark onto her arm. Blood ran down her arm. Salty tears collided with the wound, making it hurt even more. Maybe the old Annabeth would have fought him, would have left here long ago. But she had learned that it would be quicker this way, and that there was no escape. There was only pain and Dolos.

His eyes gleamed mercilessly as she sobbed, the bloody knife still clutched in her hand. "One."

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Twenty-seven tries later, Dolos left Annabeth bleeding alone in the small cellar. Her new scratches and cuts blended in with the rest of her scarred body, and they would soon fade away into pale marks that disfigured Annabeth. There was hardly an inch of unmarked flesh on the gray-eyed girl, a fact that Dolos seemed to disregard in his blind pursuit to find her "breaking point". No matter how many scars she had, Annabeth knew that the next day would bring even more.

While Annabeth had no clue as to why he wanted to find this one knife so badly when it was evident he had plenty, she still refused to tell him anything. At least she thought she hadn't said anything. After so much time runs together, everything becomes blurred, and her memory wasn't as strong as it once was; Annabeth couldn't even recall her last name, if she had one. It sometimes felt as if she had been born into this world of nothing but a cellar, Dolos, and scars that would never cease to come.

Once her head stopped spinning from the amount of blood she had lost, Annabeth managed to turn half-way over, enough so that the side with her new injuries wouldn't be laying uselessly on the dirty floor. The last time either the cellar or the girl had been washed thoroughly was longer than the time she had been there. For some reason, she had arrived dirty and wounded, at least that's what Dolos had revealed. The reason why, however, he had not shared.

Once again, the floorboards creaked overhead. Annabeth instantly tensed up as it was pulled away for the second time that day, the light from the house illuminating the cellar. It was most likely a deliverance of food in some form, or water. Yet the one delivering it wasn't Dolos.

Instead, a young girl with long, silky hair descended the ladder and landed lightly on her feet on the wooden ground. The light revealed that she was beautiful, young, and clean with only one scar, which was located on the inside of her forearm, before the girl pulled the floorboard back into place, leaving them both in the dark. They remained in silence for several minutes, leaving Annabeth to wonder what the girl was truly here for.

"So," the girl drawled with a slight Southern accent. "It's true. Dolos really does have the great Annabeth Chase captured."

Annabeth was surprised at the words coming from the girl's mouth. Great? Chase? Was the latter her last name? How would this strange girl know what it was if Annabeth herself didn't know?

"Everyone thinks you're dead, you know. Including myself, before this happened, of course. I've been working for months, trying to get into Dolos' trust to see if the rumors were true."

"W-who are you?" she managed to gasp out with the little voice she had left after screaming for an hour due to Dolos and his torture methods.

A cup of water was placed gently into her hands. "Are you saying that you don't recognize me?" the girl asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "And here I was thinking the fear of you being dead would be assuaged. It turns out you can't even remember a beautiful face even when it's looking right at you."

Annabeth drank the water eagerly, spilling some down her front. She stopped slurping it down when only a little remained. She then gently dabbed that water onto her new cuts. Even though it stung horribly, it was the only thing she could do in hopes that it wouldn't scar that badly.

"Should I know you?" Annabeth asked quietly once she was finished applying water to her arm.

The girl seemed to be very alarmed now. "Annabeth, we've known each other for years. Alright, we were never really friends, and we both hated each other, but we still knew each other. Wait, are you Annabeth Chase?"

Despite the glass of water she just drank, Annabeth's throat and lips were still painstakingly dry. "I am Annabeth, yes. Should I know you?"

"Gods, I knew what he did to you, but how could you even forget? Percy's been worried sick, I'm sure, even though no one has seen him since you died. But you didn't die, you were here the entire time," the girl rambled. Annabeth had to fight the urge to cover her ears. The words swarmed around all at once, not giving the scarred girl a chance to listen. She was already confused by who this girl was.

"W-who's Percy?" Annabeth asked once the girl had stopped talking.

The girl looked at her with shock mixed with horror. "Di immortales, you're joking?"

The new words sent her mind reeling. There was something foreign yet familiar about the new language the girl spoke in that made Annabeth want to resume laying curled up in a ball.

Agónizomai, she repeated in her mind. Agónizomai.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, cringing away from the loud girl, "I don't remember."

If Annabeth said she didn't remember, then the girl would hurt hurt, then leave her alone.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" the girl hissed angrily. "How could you forget? You're practically the smartest demigod to ever live, how could you forget your own boyfriend? You've only saved the world a hundred times with the boy."

Annabeth whimpered, defenseless in front of her fiery words. "I-I don't remember anything before this cellar. It hurts to think."

"Oh my gods, they've broken you," the girl whispered, all anger evaporated. "Annabeth, how long have you been here?"

"I don't know," she said, hating the words as they passed her lips. They've seemed to be the only thing she could say.

"Two years," the girl said slowly. "You've been kept here for two years. Do you know why? Do you know what happened before you were captured?"

Annabeth thought for a minute, but her head pounded from the pain and lack of nutrition. "No. That was too long ago. All Dolos wants is to find a knife."

"A knife?" the girl asked, seeming to perk up. "A knife. That's strange. Any specific knife, or just the general, run-of-the-mill variety?"

"A knife I had, I think," she said. "Someone gave it to me- someone named Luke Castellan. But I don't remember having a knife, and I don't remember anyone named Luke."

"You don't? So you really don't remember anything? Did he make you drink from the River Lethe?"

"The what?" Annabeth asked curiously.

"You're joking, right? What has he done to you?" the girl demanded.

Her lip trembled. "B-bad things. I c-can't remember everything, but he keeps trying to find something else. He wants to find the knife and my breaking point."

There was a pregnant pause that followed as Annabeth struggled to keep from crying. The girl seemed to be thinking to herself as the gray-eyed girl wiped tears off of her cheek.

"Annabeth," the girl said softly. "Annabeth, do you want to know who I am?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Alright. My name is Drew Tanaka. Do you remember me?"

This time, she shook her head.

"I am a daughter of Aphrodite. I was the head counselor once, but that was back when the cabins still existed. After you were kidnapped, Gaia defeated both the gods and demigods. She and her giants, titans, and monsters have ruled for two years. The gods disappeared at the conclusion of the war. Do any of these words make sense to you?"

"No," Annabeth whispered, feeling overwhelmed; her body begged for sleep. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," the girl, Drew, said automatically. "The only one that should and will be sorry is Dolos. Alright, I'm going to say some words and you stop me if you recognize any of them, alright?"

"Okay," Annabeth agreed warily. Drew's words so far had done nothing but made her head hurt. But it was important to the other girl, so Annabeth had to agree.

"Piper McLean is my half-sister. She's severely wounded, but still alive. Her boyfriend, Jason Grace, is also alive, and he's the leader of The Seven. Percy Jackson has been absent since you were kidnapped. It's believed that he's in hiding with his best friend, Grover Underwood, and his mother, Sally Jackson, but he hasn't been heard from since the end of the war. Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque are safe and working with Jason and Piper. Nico di Angelo and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano are also leaders of The Seven, but they work more on the recruiting and battle scheme of things."

To avoid getting overwhelmed, Annabeth allowed the words to register in small chunks. Piper McLean is wounded. Jason Grace is the leader. Percy Jackson is hiding Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque are safe. Nico di Angelo and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano are fighting.

Although Annabeth had no idea as to who any of these people were, it was still satisfying for the girl to hear names. It proved that there truly was a world outside of her cellar. She closed her eyes contently and allowed Drew's words to wash over her like warm water.

"...Thalia Grace is-"

Annabeth's eyes snapped open. "Thalia," she repeated to herself. "That name sounds familiar."

"Really?" Drew asked, sounding excited. "Can you remember anything about her?"

She thought hard for a minute. There was something about the name Thalia that seemed to be hiding a locked door, just beyond Annabeth's reach.

"She has a scary shield," she said slowly.

Drew grinned in relief. "The scariest."

"And she has lightning. Her eyes are blue," Annabeth said, the words coming out of somewhere inside herself she hadn't even known existed. "And I miss her."

Tears flooded Annabeth's eyes. Was it possible to miss someone you hardly know? Maybe she does know her, it's just been so long since she's remembered.

"She's out there, fighting," Drew said softly, touching Annabeth's shoulder. The mere idea of gentle human contact made her want to sob. The only one who had touched her for the past three years was Dolos, and Annabeth was positive that he wasn't human. "Besides, it's not like Thalia can die. Even though Artemis is currently in hiding, her blessing is still active on all her hunters. They're still immortal."

Creaking from above made Drew stop her speech. She glanced up anxiously before pulling Annabeth close.

"I'll come back as soon as I can, alright?"

"You mean that I w-won't be going with you?" Annabeth stuttered.

Drew squeezed her shoulder gently, her eyes softening. "You will be, just not right now. You would get hurt if we left now. But don't worry, it won't be long. Will you be alright down here?"

The gray-eyed girl nodded. If she could last years of torture, what difference did a few days make? Annabeth was a survivor, if anything, and she could survive a week more of whatever cruel pain Dolos insisted to inflict on her.

"Good. I'll try to bring you whatever I can that won't be easily noticed," Drew whispered as she ascended back up the short ladder. She left without any further goodbye.

Annabeth sat in the dark for a long time afterwards. Part of her felt as if Drew Tanaka was a dream made by her mind.

One by one, she went over the names given to her by Drew. Piper McLean. Jason Grace. Percy Jackson. Grover Underwood. Sally Jackson. Frank Zhang. Hazel Levesque. Nico di Angelo. Reyna Ramirez-Arellano. Thalia Grace.

Each of these names had a face, and each face, a story. And all of their stories blurred together with hers, even if she couldn't remember. By the way Drew was talking, it sounded as if she had wanted Annabeth to remember. Remember herself, remember the list of names she gave, remember her past.

But years of being trapped with Dolos taught her that sometimes, surviving was more important than remembering. And Drew had some expectation of Annabeth, of the past Annabeth. But that girl was gone, lost to knives and scars.

The new Annabeth, this Annabeth didn't want to remember.