kravgí

scream

Cameron did a double take when he walked into Annabeth's room, when he looked at her.

Now, with the dirt gone, her very pale skin was visible. He could follow her veins like a map across her body. Bruises decorated her face, her arms, her legs, and most likely other places that were hidden beneath her clothes. He was pleased to see that she was wearing the baggy sweater that Cameron had given her earlier, and a pair of Drew's leggings that were very loose. Her wide gray eyes peered over at him, and Cameron was reminded of a doe.

Yes, a doe described her perfectly. Skinny, frail, frightened. The way her eyes darted around, looking for an escape. The way Cameron approached her slowly, holding his hands out wide so that Annabeth could see he had nothing to hurt her with. They way she leaned back on a pillow, not quite relaxed.

"I tried healing her," a voice said. Cameron nearly jumped in surprise, but years of training kept him from doing so. He glanced over to find Chris sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other. He smirked knowingly at Cameron. Then, the look of amusement disappeared, replaced by one of worry and concern. "But I'm afraid to give her any more ambrosia. I don't think her system can handle it."

Cameron nodded in agreement. But he was more focused on Annabeth. Her eyes were unfocused and looking towards the window, apparently unaware that the two boys were talking about her. That scared him.

His gaze didn't leave her as he said, "you can leave now, Chris. Have Clarisse catch you up on the meeting when she gets back."

Cameron felt the other boy's smirk on him as Chris left the room with a casual goodbye to Annabeth. She didn't respond.

"Annabeth," Cameron said softly as Chris' footsteps faded down the hall. She blinked a few times, the bruises under her eyes well-defined. Though they were still cloudy, her eyes were slightly more focused than before. Focused on Cameron. He swallowed, not sure why he was nervous. He had faced countless monsters, and done horrible things, yet sitting in a room alone with Annabeth made his stomach then. Cameron licked his lips and said, "are you hungry?"

Annabeth looked at the plate in his hand, and shook her head, a grimace on her face. Cameron looked at the plate's contents as well, attempting to discern the look of disgust on her face: a handful of baby carrots, a cookie, a chunk of cheese, an apple, and a slice of bread. A plain meal. Easy foods for her to eat.

"What's wrong with it?" Cameron probed.

She merely grimaced again, and turned back to look at the window.

Cameron forced himself not to sigh. It wasn't her fault, really. If anything, Dolos was the one to blame. Dolos, who was a minor god of trickery, and was so unimportant that there were only a few myths including him. At least, that's what he deduced from his brief research. Dolos was the apprentice to Prometheus. The Titan was impressed when Dolos was able to shape an exact replica of the goddess of truth, with one exception being that he did not have enough clay to make her feet.

That was about all he could find on Dolos, and he had not been brave enough to do anymore research out in the field. At least, not right now. But there was no reason why Dolos would want to imprison a demigod for years. A demigod that he had never before met.

A god so minor, his name was practically unknown to all. But now, there wasn't a god that Cameron wanted to kill more.

"You have to eat something," he said, nudging the plate towards Annabeth.

"Not hungry," she whispered, her voice cracked and dry.

"At all? You don't want anything?"

Annabeth shook her head, her stringy curls flying. Camron studied her hair. The dirt and blood had been washed out of it, but there was still something about it that looked...wrong. Maybe it was because she looked like Rapunzel, what with the incredibly long hair; He had never seen hair that long, at least not in the real world. Or maybe it was because her hair was now closer to white than blond.

"I'm not hungry," Annabeth repeated, shaking her head, "for anything."

Worry pounded through his heart, but he didn't push her. He didn't want her to become afraid of anything here, especially not him.

"Okay," Cameron said, setting the full plate on the ground. The girl didn't smile, not even close, but he swore that he saw something close to triumph in her eyes. "Do you want to sleep?"

Annabeth raised her bony shoulders in a shrug, and then winced in pain.

Cameron was by her side immediately, his eyes searching for where she was hurting. As the mattress shifted under his weight, Annabeth sharply inhaled, and inched away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he told her softly. "I'm going to help you."

|||||

Help. Cameron thought he was helping. Didn't he know that every time he looked at Annabeth, her heart beat intensified? Every time he touched her, her skin recoiled? Every time he offered her food, it was all she could do to not puke?

And yet, every time Cameron left her, Annabeth found herself yearning for him. Not for Drew and her loud way of talking. Not for Clarisse and her grouchy nature. Not for Chris and his gentle tone. But for Cameron and his frustratingly caring nature, and his watchful hazel eyes.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked her softly. He was seated mere inches away, close enough for Annabeth to feel the heat from his skin.

"Everywhere," she whispered in response.

Something flickered in Cameron's eyes. Something familiar, and so close, but still out of reach for Annabeth. Maybe the old Annabeth would know what it was. But, like her dream told her, she wasn't that Annabeth anymore.

She didn't know if she was even Annabeth anymore.

She inhaled shakily, sucking in the air through cracked lips. Cameron watched her, looking as if he wanted to hand her food. Looking as if he wanted to help. Sure enough, he voiced his thoughts seconds later.

"Do you want me to help?" Cameron asked.

She forced herself not to shudder, and shook her head. Help. There was nothing he could to do help her when she didn't even know what was wrong.

"Do you want to sleep?"

Annabeth licked her dry lips, searching for the right words to say. "I...I'm scared to. I don't want to wake up and...find myself there again."

Her chin trembled, and an unwavering lump appeared in her throat. Hot tears sprung to her eyes. A few escaped, and trailed down her face.

"I'll stay," Cameron said immediately, "with you through the night, if you want me to. I'll stay." Cautiously, tentatively, his fingers reached out, and wiped the tears from Annabeth's cheeks. Her bruises ached at his touch, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she leaned in to the human contact that Annabeth had been unable to have in the cellar. The human contact that left her shivering, and craving more.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The silence hung in the air, encompassing the two in what felt like a warm blanket. But all too soon, it was shattered.

Heavy footsteps thudded outside of the door, drawing closer. Cameron was on his feet instantly, grabbing a bronze sword that Annabeth had not noticed earlier. He twisted the doorknob, and pulled back.

The sight on the other side of the door left Annabeth screaming. Howling.

Drew, mutilated beyond recognition, save for her dark, impossibly silky hair. Her beautiful facial features were marred with cuts, as were her legs and arms.

And the blood.

Annabeth could smell it from here. The smell of rusty, metallic blood that had been her companion for years, followed her like a ghost. After soaking in the water for hours, she had managed to scrub it off her.

But fate was desperately working against Annabeth as the smell returned to her in full force not even a day after she had erased it.

She pressed the quilt against her face, hoping to block out the smell. Annabeth succeeded, but at the price of no longer being able to breathe. Not that she could breathe while screaming.

"Oh gods," Cameron shouted, "Drew what happened?! Annabeth, stop! Annabeth!"

His voice faded away. Safety. Cameron had promised Annabeth safety. But he brought the smell that brought her back there. Was it really only yesterday that she had been in the cellar, anxiously waiting for Drew to return? Two days since Dolos had last forced her to cut her own skin.

Maybe she was still there. Maybe this was a dream, and the second she fell asleep, the dream would end. And Annabeth would find herself back in the cellar, once again hopeless and on the verge of death.

And alone.

Cameron, Drew, Chris, and Clarisse wouldn't be there. Maybe they never were.

All air had fled from her lungs. No, it had been forced out by her screams.

Annabeth couldn't breathe. Her heart banged in her chest. It pounded faster and faster and faster. Until a deep blackness took over, banishing the screams.

She fell back onto the mattress with a loud thud. Her mind racing, her heart beating, her lungs wheezing, her mouth screaming.