I'll be here forever

chapter 65

And then he was stepping to the side, ducking under me more quickly than my eye could follow, reaching me before I could react.

Then his hand was on my shoulder, first sending a spark of electricity down my spine. Not the good kind- but the kind that makes your hair stand on end, the kind that feels like the very first lightning strike before it starts to really storm. A warning.

And suddenly I was on fire. I was on fire, every part of me was on fire, and it hurt. Oh, gods, it hurt, the stabbing pain in every nerve, every cell.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream, oh, gods, just let every last bit of pain leave my body in a noise loud enough to scare off the birds for miles, but I couldn't. I couldn't make a sound- it was like my vocal cords had seized, just like every other muscle in my body. I couldn't move. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, and I was on fire.

I could feel his hand on my shoulder, still. In fact that was the only thing I could feel, because the rest of the world tilted and spun out of reach, leaving me grounded only to his touch. I couldn't feel my feet on the ground, or my arms at my sides, my head on my shoulders, but I could feel his hand pressed against me.

And as I was on fire, I could feel him- as I burned, his hand was warm, gentle, reluctant. Even as I felt my heart slow and my limbs start to tingle with the lack of circulation, I could feel his fingers on my skin, scarring his memory into my flesh.

"I may have forgotten you," they seemed to say, "but you sure as hell won't forget me."

And the searing fire started to fizzle out, and as painful as it was, I wished for it again. Because the fire, the heat, the crackling flames in my blood, was instead replaced with a cold emptiness. It was the freezing ocean waters in the middle of the winter, the bitter chill of a northern wind. It was the absence of everything, of touch and warmth and love and everything I needed. There was just nothing, like I had been sucked dry of every last thing I had.

And he took, and he took, and he took, he took my breath and my blood and my heartbeat and every last piece of me. All of me belonged to him. He took until he couldn't take any more, he took the rush of my thoughts and the feeling in my fingers and the warmth of my skin. He took it all. The chilling emptiness was all that was left, and then the blackness swallowed my body, and I felt nothing at all.

But he wouldn't take my vision. Whether as a last, cruel parting gift or an act of mercy, I didn't know, but I could see. I could see. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, but I could see- and I could do nothing but watch as he finally relinquished his hold on me, the searing agony of his touch leaving my skin. I watched as I fell limply from his grasp. And I almost think I should've felt something, when I hit the ground- but I didn't.

But I could feel myself fading away. I knew I didn't have much longer left in this world. But I couldn't do anything. So I watched.

From the ground, I watched as Percy stumbled backward, knees buckling, feet scuffling through the dirt. His eyes were wide in shocked triumph, his lips twitching upward into a hungry grin. Power hummed through every vein in his body, so much so that he was practically basking in it. He studied his hands, like they didn't quite feel like his own, and then he looked back up to me.

If I could have, I would have sucked in a breath in surprise. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, almost black, like the sea at night- when it was dark, and flat, and devastatingly calm, when its waters were almost too clear, like starry glass, deceiving you into thinking that it just might be peaceful enough not to drag you under. When it left you stranded in the middle of the ocean to thirst to death, surrounded by its heartless waters. It was merciless, and patient, and cruel.

And then he laughed. He laughed, and it sent a chill through what was left of my body. He laughed, and I knew the sound would haunt me for whatever life I had left to live.

Because his laugh was harsh, it was mad. His laugh was one of completely unhinged joy, of undefeated victory, heartless and brutal. It was one of a executioner perfecting his method of torture, of a murderer getting away with his crime. The crazed, hungry look in his eyes made me want to squeeze mine shut just to get further away from him. But I couldn't.

And all at once, I knew that Leo and I had never stood even a sliver of a chance. Even an army of demigods couldn't stand a chance against... that. Because whatever that was, it would do anything to win, anything to take down anyone in its path, no matter whose side they were on. Whatever that was, it would throw itself into battle over and over just to feel the rush of the victory again, even as it tears itself apart at the seams. Whatever that was didn't care for anything, or anyone- only for about the addicting feeling of triumph over the war.

Whatever that was, it wasn't Percy.

And then the last bit of me drained away, too tired to carry on, and I sunk into the blackness, my vision fading with the imprint of him on the back of my eyelids.