BLURRED | Annabeth Chase

XIII • μνήμη

μνήμη

memory

• • •

Annabeth Chase had passed the point of exhaustion. She could no longer remember how long they had been running for; it felt like an eternity. Her legs felt like they were on fire as she stumbled to keep up with Drew, Clarisse, and Chris as they ran through the woods, leaving Cameron behind to fend off whatever monsters had come for her.

My fault.

That was the mantra that played inside her head, repeating louder and louder whenever Annabeth felt as if she were about to collapse. The blame was solid, something that she could feel. And as long as she could feel, Annabeth knew she had the strength to continue.

"We have to stop soon," said Clarisse, eying the panting Drew beside her.

"I'm fine," Drew insisted, shoving a large tree branch aside as if to prove her point. "I'm all healed up, remember?"

But even Annabeth noticed the way the girl kept a hand pressed against her stomach and winced with every breath. Clarisse rolled her eyes at Drew, who promptly ignored her.

"We have to create distance, but not too much," Chris said, glancing over his shoulder as he spoke, "we don't want to leave Cameron too far behind."

"Will he be alright?" Annabeth asked without even registering that she opened her mouth to speak.

"Cam's fought off monsters before," Drew said confidently, giving Annabeth a jaunty wink that didn't match the grave expression resting in her eyes. "It's nothing he can't handle."

Clarisse and Chris exchanged a glance, one that gave Annabeth a sick feeling in her stomach. There was a sense of something missing deep within her bones.

But there was also something familiar about this feeling of running, of escaping. As if old-Annabeth had spent her life running from something, somewhere, or someone.

She stumbled over a tree branch, catching herself at the last second. Muttering a curse that she didn't remember learning, Annabeth wiped the droplets of sweat from her brow.

"We should stop," said Clarisse decisively.

"We should stop."

And suddenly, Annabeth was no longer limping through the woods with three friendly strangers. She was somewhere else, somewhere that only existed in her mind.

"We should stop. Annabeth's tired."

The words were said by a young girl with sharp blue eyes and short black hair. She walked with a severe limp, her leg a bleeding mess. A boy with golden hair was supporting her as she leaned on him, her every breath an aching rasp.

"Annabeth could run another twenty miles, couldn't you?" the boy said, smirking over his shoulder.

Trailing a few steps behind was a much younger girl, no more than eight years old. Her blonde hair was a terrific mess of tangled knots and dirt, and her clothes were far too big for her. But there was a beaming smile on her face as she looked up at the boy.