Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

Chapter Two

When I open my eyes hours later, the afternoon light is filtering in through them. The light is harsh, as if it's punishing me for sleeping through the day. I can't help but wonder if this form of punishment isn't just. My Mother, the woman that protected me the best she could before I even knew what I needed protection from, was dead. She was nothing but a charred corpse.

If only I had left sooner, if traffic had been faster, if I had been there to put out the fire and got here out. But I wasn't. I wasn't there. I wasn't fast enough. Now there is nothing left of her but some unrecognizable figure in a morgue somewhere and I can't even go to claim it.

Stumbling to my feet, I walked close to the edge of the roof, crouching down behind the short wall. When I was sure that enough time had passed that any passersby that might have been looking up her hadn't seen me, I poked my head over the wall, just enough to glimpse at the world below. There was a heavy flow of traffic coming and going from all directions, drones of people crossing the streets in mass, hordes of cars driving widely. If I had to take a guess, I would say that it was just a little after five.

Going back to my bag and jacket, my stomach took the opportunity to rumble unpleasantly, reminding me of the fact that I haven't eaten anything since lunch the day prior. The taste lingering in my mouth told the story of just how well I had managed to keep it down. Sighing, I dug through my bag looking for any form of food. Instead, I found a piece of myself dying inside as I came to the realization that while packing up all my clothes and belongings from camp, I didn't think to pack any food. Of course not, I thought bitterly, this was never supposed to have happened. I was supposed to be at home helping my mother cook dinner right now. A frustrated groan slips past my lips before I can stop it.

I pull out the language book, placing it on the roof as I slide off my jacket. Running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to look presentable, I picked the book back up. Once the bag is on my shoulders, I can imagine that I look like a normal kid. I think I could at least pass as looking human. Without thinking much, I throw myself off the far side of the building, away from traffic, into the alley, and roll to disperse the force.

With a quick glance around, I walk to the opposite side of the alleyway than I had originally come in last night, and step into the crowd. To anyone walking past, I looked like a little kid taking a shortcut on his way home from the library.

I might not be able to manipulate the mist like Chiron and, eventually, Thalia, but there are always easier ways to fool mortals.

I went back to the dinner that I stopped by last night, ordering a plate of fries and a drink. While hunger was a nice motivator, food wasn't actually my only motive for leaving the safety of the roof. Tonight was a Saturday night, a designated party night while school wasn't in session.

Full on cheap fries and cherry soda, I left the dinner about an hour later. The sun had long since gone down and friends were already meeting up to go bar hopping. If a thirteen year old wandering the streets alone like this was strange, people pushed it aside because it was New York.

The streets are busy enough and loud enough that I can't hear my own breath as I walk. Everyone is so cramped together, if I was with someone, it would be easy to get lost. A drunk college student slams into me, causing us both to fall to the ground.

"Watch where you're going, scrawny punk" the boy sneers. His two friends send me an apologetic look. One abandons the other two and helps me up, stopping to scan me over as if checking for injuries. I hold my book and wrist protectively to my chest. Taking that as a sign of injury, the man apologizes profusely while the other boy is slowly guiding the drunken one to his feet. The pair walk away, going slow enough that the third boy can easily catch up.