NOTE: This chapter contains a certain scene that may make you sick. This is a chapter about Percy's memory. 

He was running. The pebble stones beneath his feet were making loud crunching sounds which would definetly blow his cover, but he didn't care. The only thought in his head was to run. 

Run, before it's too late.

Droplets of sweat were rolling down his forehead, mixing with the crimson liquid open bleeding wound at the side of his head, over his right temple, and the blood on his jet-black hair was just staring to dry. He was panting heavily, his vision starting to get blurry every few minutes, but he kept running. 

Percy turned to a corner and stopped running, he felt the blood pounding in his ears, clogging his brain, as he took deep breaths, with his hands on his knees, he hastily wiped the sweat and blood on his face and launched in full speed into the dark alleyway he turned into. 

He couldn’t see anything, as he noticed that there was no other choice than to run deeper into the darkness. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Percy skidded to a halt. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest as he took deep breaths, cursing silently in his mind when he noticed he was toyed. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” Percy growled. “You knew where I was going this whole time and got me thinking that I was running away from you while you were actually hiding in the finishing point.” 

Two dark red eyes appeared in the darkness. They were smiling. 

“You’re smarter than you look.” 

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Percy snarled, putting his hand into his pocket, preparing to take out Riptide, only to find it empty. His eyes widened in horror. 

“No…” Percy gasped. It was then, he knew, it was a losing battle. Percy put his hand against the wall, preparing to break into a run any moment. 

“You’re looking for this?”the man said, the glowing blade of Riptide suddenly appearing in the darkness. “Take it. You can’t kill me. I know it.” 

Percy caught the blade, tilting his head slightly in confusion, unsure of what to do. 

“Wait… why did you give it back?” 

The man gave a small chuckle. 

“It’s because you’re dying.” 

Right on cue, Percy’s vision blurred and he stumbled, leaning against the wall, hoping to find balance. 

Blood loss.

“I’ll find you. I’ll come back.” Percy said, moving backwards, about to escape for help. “I won’t let you hurt her. Whatever it takes.” 

The eyes were smirking. 

“Leaving the party so soon? Let me tell you a secret.” 

Percy felt a cold chill run up his spine as he lost his balance and tumbled onto the muddy ground. 

“The game has just begun.” 

The man clicked his fingers, and immediately Percy’s eyes rolled up to the back of his head, as a gruesome image appeared in his mind. 

Annabeth was bound to a chair in the middle of a room, her arms pulled behind her and bound at the wrists. Duct tape was taped across her mouth and on her legs to prevent them from speaking or moving. A knife was dug deep into her chest, there was a dark mark on her neck, meaning that she was strangled, and her throat was cut open, so deeply that it nearly severed her head. But what scarred Percy the most was her eyes. Her eyes were wide open, but they were misty and lifeless. A dried tear was positioned at the edge of her left eye, preparing to fall.

The man clicked his fingers once more, as Percy’s eyes snapped open, he was panting and shaking madly, like a patient from the asylum. 

“What have you done.” Percy said, his whole body was shaking with fear. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ANNAB-“ 

Percy felt something cold rest against his neck. He could feel the man breathing down his ear.  

“Run, Percy Jackson. Run. Before it’s too late.” 

He did. 

But that image scarred him. 

Forever.