A One Way Trip (A Percy Jackson FanFiction) *SLOW UPDATES*

Chapter 5

 [Flashback starts]

 Six months ago, give or take.

***

 Annabeth sat down on her bed in Cabin Six. She was still head councillor, but Malcom had been taking over her main duties as of late. Evening light streamed in through the open window, dappled through the leaves of the olive tree growing outside, creating a mesmerizing effect, the various shades dancing on the floor. She stared at it intently.

 People had thankfully stopped staring at her out of the corners of their eyes, watching for any signs that she was going to throw herself into the sea, or impale herself with the nearest sword. She wasn't. Percy would never forgive her if she killed herself to be with him. He'd want her to move on.

 She couldn't.

 She was a fighter. She'd go down fighting.

 She just wanted her seaweed brain.

 He'd left her in a life of pain and regret. She knew that he couldn't - but she hoped with all her heart - he'd promised he'd come back.

 He promised.

 And he broke that promise when he died at the foot of the Doors of Death.

 The fraying cord that had been keeping her even slightly sane for the last six months finally snapped.

 The crack that followed was a heart shattering.

 She snarled, a feral sound, and jumped up, forcing everything away. She swept an arm over her drafting table, sending countless scrolls, designs and equipment tumbling down onto the grey marble floor.

 This time, no one could stop her. Everyone was at dinner. Lucky them. They could just continue with their lives, like nothing had ever happened. But her life had stopped. To a standstill. And she could never restart it. Not without him.

 How sad. She couldn't even say his name.

 She ripped down all the silk banners depicting that stupid owl from the stone walls, and tore them up into thousands of tiny scraps. She never wanted to see that owl again. Stupid Mark of Athena quest. Athena had probably just disowned her, but she couldn't care less.

 She grabbed a chair and smacked it repeatedly against the grand columns marking the entrance, causing endless chips of stone and dust to rain down and settle everywhere, including her own blonde curls. She emptied the bookshelves of the stacks of books crammed on the shelves, and the heavy hardbacks tumbled by the hundred onto the ground, clattering and echoing noisily on the cool slabs. She grabbed them by the armful and hurled them at everything in her sight line.

 The loud shatter, more prominent than anything else, dragged her back to reality. The priceless marble bust of her mother, carved aeons ago in the heart of the ancient lands, teetered for a moment, on the brink of the alcove in which for so long had it rested, then smashed into millions of tiny fragments on the floor.

 She looked around her in utter horror, her mouth hanging open.

 The cabin was in total carnage. The interior was completely destroyed. Nothing was salvageable.

 She stumbled outside in total shock, the light breeze blowing gently through the grove. The rings of cabins stood proudly as usual, lights shining out through the window, even though it was mid summer. Nothing moved except the leaves rustling in the wind. The familiar flames burned in the ashy pit in the exact centre of the yard. But none of this was any consolation.