If you would've told Percy Jackson a year ago he wasn't the only prophecized demigod with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he would've been elated.
Yet now, it was his only and dearest wish.
When Percy Jackson, (in)famous Son of Poseidon...
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˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
AT THE EDGE OF THE DUMP, they found a tow truck so old it might've thrown itself away. But the engine started, and it had a full tank of gas, so they decided to borrow it.
"You'de badly injured," Thalia said. "Just assist me." Thalia got into the driver's seat. Percy got into the shotgun seat, and Zoë sat in the back with Menodora and Grover.
They drove in silence.
No one dared to say anything. The weight of Bianca's loss was too much. She had been so young, and had eternity ahead of her. Now she was just... gone.
It wasn't until Menodora groaned drowsily that the silence was disrupted. They must've been driving for about half an hour by now. She sat up right and looked around her. She gasped as she saw Percy's face.
"What happened to you!?" She asked as if she hadn't done that herself.
Percy looked away, not being able to face Menodora.
Zoë swallowed before speaking to Menodora in a foreign language.
It didn't take a genius to figure that Zoë was telling her about what happened at the junkyard. Percy caught both his name and Bianca's in the conversation.
"I wouldn't do that," Menodora said in English. "I didn't do that to Percy. I remember doing it to Sitra, and I swore never to..."
"Look at his face," Zoë said.
Menodora bit her lip as she held back tears. "I didn't know it was him. I didn't know it was you. I didn't know. I didn't know," she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Percy. I'm so, so, sorry. I lost control. I didn't—I really didn't mean to."
"It's alright," Percy muttered.
"Is your head still hurting? Thalia hit you pretty hard," Zoë asked.
