Vol. 3-25: The second-coming of Christ

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ANNABETH

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Ten days since Tempest had blown up Mount St. Helens.

I hadn't dreamed about her once. Neither had Percy. Or anyone else at camp. They started deciding her shroud. I wouldn't weigh in on it. Even though I had to accept that Tempest was dead, I wouldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

It didn't make me feel any better that everyone had started treating me like glass. They all looked at me like I was one second away from shattering and using the shards to cut their throats. It didn't help that my little "outburst" was leading people to make an attempt at comforting me. Nobody cares if you like girls and This doesn't change anything!

Except it does. Because if I liked boys, nobody would even say that stuff.

Only one person was still treating me like normal; Percy. He didn't feel the need to tell me it was okay that I like girls, and he didn't constantly bring up Tempest. We just hung out and talked. I was glad to at least have someone like him in my life. It made me feel like things weren't such a shit-show.

Chiron was the only one trying to go about this in a more gentle, mature approach. Something about "so long without contact" and "Iris-messages not going through" and "we can only assume". He also said something about how, even if she was still alive, it might take even longer for her to come back. At the very least, we should burn her shroud "just in case".

I was about to leave when he took my hand. "Darling, you... you might want to consider going through her things." He put a hand up when I tried to object. "We won't throw anything away. We'll keep it safely stored."

So, I went through her shit just to make everyone shut up. Random old clothes that didn't really matter. A granola bar at the bottom of her backpack that clearly had not seen the light of day since 1997. Her car keys. The Shining. She didn't really have anything super important, actually. I finally got to the side pocket- which was the last place for me to look- and I found a single photograph.

It was me and my family, taken during spring break. We were all standing together at the park, Bobby and Matthew insisting on being on their bikes for this photo. Leah's hair was blowing all in the wind and my dad was laughing. I had my arms crossed since I don't like my photo being taken.

I shoved the photo back in her backpack and carried the whole thing to her car, which was the last place I needed to check.

Her car didn't have a whole lot to offer. I found the registration- under a fake name and age, of course- in the glove box. She had an old McDonald's drink in there. Hanging from the mirror was that golden frame with my picture in it. She told me she wouldn't put it up. Clearly, she lied.

And that was that. I kept her backpack in the car for the next time she might need it. I closed the door, taking the keys with me so nobody would do something dumb. I had done what I was asked, and my duties were done.

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Fourteen days since Tempest blew up Mount St. Helens.

Percy looked pretty pissed off as he stood next to me, his arms crossed indignantly. I stumbled forward, placing the black-and-white silk cloth on the shroud, embroidered with a ghost, on the shroud. I stepped back, staring blankly at it.

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