❝𝘴-𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯❞
❝𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❞
𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗖𝗬 𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗢𝗡 had met a lot of people and he had seen a lot of things that had caught his eyes. But she was a different story. The girl with the long hair was just someone he coul...
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XXXVII. THE DAY I DEDICATE MY GRIEF TO THE LOVE(R) THAT I LOST
━━━━━━
"Sitting on the beach, you were still in reach,
And I haven't felt free without you"
TWO WEEKS.
Two weeks had passed.
Two weeks of searching, two weeks of clinging to hope, and two weeks of waiting in agony. But it was not enough. Chiron had no choice but to make the painful announcement – Percy Jackson was dead.
When Lee had broken the news to her, telling her how they were going to give a mass funeral for him, Dodie felt a strange sort of numbness wash over her. It didn't sound right. The mere mention of death and Percy in the same sentence did not sound right to her. But they sounded sure. It was as if the universe had gutted her, leaving behind an empty void. The dream she'd had, the one that had filled her with hope, now felt like a cruel joke played by the Fates. Why had they chosen this moment, when she'd finally found faith again, to deliver such heart-wrenching news?
It was too cruel...
If he was really dead, what was the use of Aphrodite coming to her dreams to tell her that he was indeed alive? Was it all just for the show? To play with her? How come did the fates decide that the best way of announcing such news to her the moment she had found faith again? Was this just a game to them? It was too cruel... but it was also very them.
A part of Dodie did not — no, she refused to accept it. She couldn't bring herself to believe that Percy was gone, that this funeral everyone was preparing so solemnly around camp was just some sick and empty joke. Maybe that was why she was stuck inside the Infirmary in the Big House, fixing some non-existent problem.
Ever since Lee had delivered the news, Dodie had mostly been holed up in the infirmary. But it was better, wasn't it? Being out and being 'productive' instead of being confined inside of her room like she did for the past two weeks? Anything was better than letting the emptiness consume her. At least, she thought, she was doing something... Like, you know, something.
But no matter how hard she tried to refuse reality, that feeling of desolation clung to her. She'd sit in the infirmary, her eyes wandering out the window, scanning the camp, searching for any sign of... anything. Every silhouette on the field, every approaching vessel, would send her heart with an elation that bore an illusory weight. And each time, the harsh reality would crash down on her like a merciless wave.
She was trying so hard to ignore reality.
But ignoring it was getting harder by the day.
To shake off that feeling of emptiness that was slowly consuming her very being was difficult. Staying in the infirmary and acting like her reality was not, well, a reality was a difficult task. She was ignoring everyone, she was avoiding the funeral. In a way, she thought that a funeral was a bit fruitless. Perhaps it was because she knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to handle it, or maybe it was the fact that she refused to believe that he was gone — no, it was because she knew he wasn't. And if she were to go to this funeral, watching as someone... anyone burns whatever shroud that was prepared for him, it would be like she was betraying her own beliefs that he was alive.
