III: Yeah, I'm Kinda Angry

Our walk was very silent, in a very awkward way. So I simply told him to ask me questions. Because, I don't know, maybe it'd do me good to try and organize my thoughts? Well, his first question was on the curse. I'd shrugged and phrased it as simply as I could.

"Eros is the patron of the Nakamura bloodline. One of my godforsaken fucking ancestors decided to fall in love with him. Eros was in his loyal phase though, or whatever. He wouldn't touch her, and just pitied her or some shit. And he made it so that she could have anyone else she wanted. But overall, it's just a stupid curse that makes stupid and pretty faces like you want to fuck me." 

"I'm sorry." he muttered shamefully, as if it would change anything. "And Ethan… Gods, it was wrong. I'm sorry."

My response was bitter, barely bothering to even turn my eyes to his.

"Being sorry won't bring him back." 

"You went through a lot together… Why were you both so loyal to the Army?" he asked, as we kept on walking forward to nowhere in particular. "And your recruitment…"

"They only resorted to that method a couple of times. Luke really wanted my brother and me… For some reason. He excused himself with some prophecy that had a half-clear line about revenge, but I figure there was more to it." I shrugged, remembering the words of the dead boy I'd called friend. "Luke protected us. The Army was like family, honestly. I mean, I was nine when my father died. Ethan was ten, and we were orphaned. We had no one but each other, until Luke reached out to us. The Army defended us, and so we defended the Army."

Until we didn't, I thought, but kept it to myself.

He stopped walking, forcing me to look back and meet his eyes. They were… sorrowful. He was apologetic, and there was something in his tone that sounded like he yearned for my forgiveness, even though we both knew, deep down, that it wasn't his fault.

"Erica, I'm sorry." he implored miserably. His voice almost shivered, sincere and mourning. "We failed you. We failed the demigods that needed our protection. We failed you, and Ethan, and Alabaster, and Luke, and all the kids I'll never be able to name."

The boy looked like he was about to kneel at my feet and beg for forgiveness. Silently, I thought about the gods, who'd never done anything like it. Nemesis had not apologized after stealing our lives from us, she hadn't showed any remorse for leading Ethan to his death. My dreams, none of them had been of her. But his apology seemed so… heartfelt.

Enough to touch me. 

"You all deserved better." he gazed into me apologetically, and for a minute I thought my eyes might water. "We should've done better. You didn't deserve to go through that."

"The gods should be the ones saying that." I grinded my teeth, half messing up the pronunciation. "My brother's death cannot have been in vain."

"I swear on the River Styx, Ethan and Luke's death won't be for nothing." he declared, and in his eyes raged a storm of determination.

"Good." I replied dryly, and we kept on walking.

A half hour after, give or take, the wind returned. Immediately it felt more normal, as if we were reinserted into the regular world. 

I heard a familiar flap of wings above us, and smiled as I looked up. Skotos circled around us, kicking her silver hooves in the air as she approached. Her black wings reflected the daylight and shone in silver.

"Skotos!" I exclaimed, as she kneeled down beside me. I rested my hand in between her eyes, and she rose. "What happened?"

She whinied something out of my understanding, and again nudged her head against me.

"She said that–" Percy tried to translate, before being interrupted by Skoto's hiss. "Nevermind."

I crossed my leg over Skoto's back, and sat up straight. Blackjack was coming as well, slower than Skoto but still fast enough.

As soon as Jackson mounted the pegasus, I leaned forward to whisper in Skoto's ear. She huffed something in response, and we took off. As she flew up, a single thought occupied my mind.

Maybe I'd misjudged Perseus Jackson.

***

He put on the sunglasses I gave him earlier and we stepped into the house. We were met with Medusa's hair-snakes hissing at us threateningly. By us, I mean Percy. Medusa looked at me with a smile.

"Oh, my dear." her raspy voice sounded, while her hand reached for my face and caressed it sweetly. "I've heard."

"Medusa… hello." I answered, bowing my head.

She understood why I was there, and opened up the backdoor of the house for us, not without some suspicious glances at Percy.

Percy followed me hesitantly, as if he was unsure rather to kill Medusa with Riptide or follow me out.

He followed me out. We stopped at a bunch of big rocks and Percy almost bumped into me. 

I kneeled and moved away a rock, revealing the obsidian trapdoor. I mumbled the words in ancient greece and then flipped it open, revealing the narrow iron ladder. I went first, and then Percy. By the last steps, I jumped down and took a quick look. 

Not as bad as I expected. Not a lot of things were dismantled, the small farm had been maintained relatively well, and it wasn't too warm or cold. It was good. 

I waited for Percy to get down and helped him, but still he stumbled a bit, and the rusted handle of the ladder made a cracking sound.

Beckendorf was sitting on an armchair, using some contraption he used to attempt to imitate the sun's white light to form a rainbow until he heard the noises and turned around. Very lively and looked like he wished me dead.

He sprinted toward me, lunging at me and knocking me off my feet. He had me on the floor before I could be bothered to react. He threw punches at my face quickly and strongly, hard enough for me to not even be able to see him. I heard the swoosh of a sword: Riptide. Beckendorf stopped. When I looked up, I saw the tip of the sword leaned upon the boy's neck, by Percy's hand.

"Perc, what are you doing?" he began, putting his hands up. "She's kept me here for–"

"Get off of her, Charles." Percy ordered. When Beckendorf didn't move, he grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him off of me. The son of Hephaestus looked too surprised to say anything to Percy for a minute.

I sat up and spat a mouthful of blood onto the brown carpet. Those punches had fucking hurt my teeth, honestly. My nose dripped with my mortal blood onto the gray t-shirt that belonged to Percy Jackson. 

There we were, again. My blood spilled because of him. But something was different. I wasn't afraid this time.

This time, I felt in control, if only slightly. I'd given up on revenge against that demigod, because I knew it would be worth nothing. It hadn't even really been his fault. If it weren't him, it would've been someone else. And maybe… it was my suicidal tendencies sparking up for the first time.

As rage showed in his face, I felt a rush of adrenaline running through my veins. Was this death? It felt good. The question of whether or not he'd kill me felt refreshing, made me curious. 

I had never been terrified of death, but I figure this was the first time I aimed to embrace it. Maybe it was because I had nothing left. The worst case scenario had always been losing the ones I love, but that was out of the picture now, so… Anything else was trivial.

"Tell him, Percy!" I giggled enthusiastically, standing up and wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand.

"Erica, what are you–" he began, sheathing his sword back into the pen, but was interrupted by Beckendorf, apparently very upset he had to talk to me.

"About what?" he asked.

"Your ugly little girlfriend. She's dead." I announced, with a bloody smile. "I killed her."

It was a half-truth. I unleashed the drakon that killed her, and I also didn't perceive her as extremely gorgeous, so yes. His jaw dropped, his chest started pumping faster, and I saw panic in his eyes.

Then he grabbed a steel knife from his pocket. Good.

"No. It's not true. It can't be."

"It is! Everyone was so sad… Weeping, crying, screaming about what a heroine she–"

He lunged at me and leaned the cold blade on my neck, threatening to kill me.

"Tell me it's not true. Come on, Percy, please tell me she's lying." what he mumbled was desperate and an unrealistic plea. When Percy said nothing, the knife tightened around my artery.

Instead of saying anything, Percy hauled a punch toward Beckendorf's nose, disorienting him before pushing me out of the way. The steel knife dropped on the rug. Percy was starting to annoy me.

"Beckendorf, don't be such a bitch. We were in war and we already won. Silena was an amazing person, but she died a hero and nothing you do will change it." he worded. "After all that you… we did to her, you should be grateful that she even bothered to save you."

What surprised me is how much those words impacted Beckendorf, like he was actually considering logic and righteousness and whatever more.

"Percy, shut up, yeah?" I called. Blood was now all over his t-shirt, and my old jacket. "He had the right to kill me, why don't you let him? I killed someone he loves."

"Nakamura, what are you thinking? You need to be ratio–" 

"Let him finish the job you couldn't do." I growled, cutting him off. I threw my dagger at Beckendorf's feet. Percy was stunned enough to not be able to say anything. It seemed difficult for him to believe that someone would actually want to die. Beckendorf looked at me, then at my knife. "Would you like me to illustrate her tears? The blood spilling out of her cheap armor, the soot on her–"

"Erica, stop. This is stupid." Percy repeated.

"Look at me, Percy. Do you see the marks around my arms, and my back, and my stomach, and my chest? That's what that one –" I said, while I pointed at Beckendorf. "– did to me last time you couldn't kill me. You should've. When Eros… you felt my pain on your skin."

They went both silent, staring at my madness, listening to my insanity. I tried offering a comforting smile.

"No one grieves me, Jackson. Those who would are dead."

I felt my face dirty again, but it was no longer blood. Fat tears dragged themselves from my eyes to the floor. Beckendorf kicked my dagger back at me.

"I won't kill you." he said. The words were heavy, and I could feel how much it had cost him to say them. His eyes were indecisive, guilty, nervous. I wiped the saltwater off of my face. I wouldn't find my demise with them.

"So what, huh, hero boy?" I looked at Percy, whose big eyes involved me, worriedly, as I chuckled. "Will you? A clean strike to my neck or chest would do it, fast and quick."

"Erica…" he called, and his hand rose in my direction, and I felt as if he would've placed a hand on my shoulder if it was anyone but me in some other mood. "Ethan wouldn't want this."

"Ethan isn't here." I stroke back, hissing every syllable. "He should've let you all die. He should've killed you, Percy."

His eyes widened in surprise, as if he'd forgotten that his life had been so close to have been taken away from him. As if he'd forgotten that Ethan saved him. He opened his mouth and closed it about three times before making his mind about what to say.

"You can't let their deaths be in vain, remember?" he repeated my words. It amused me how he even thought that I had the power to even tip the scales. He was truly and idealist stuck in the imaginary world that had been built for privileged kids like himself. Speak up, and you will be heard. Ask, and you will be granted.

"Whether or not he died in vain will never be my decision, Percy." I chuckled bitterly. I couldn't even tip the scales, even with the fight we'd put up to do so. So many had died for nothing… I'd be no different.

"No. Ethan and Luke died for you." 

"I lived for them." I answered, and this time my words were not quiet and still. Tears ran as my voice sounded like a disgruntled sob. 

"I know." he muttered, lowering his head. "I'm sorry."

I turned my back to them, because I found myself being overturned by the weeping sobs that rose from my throat. Ethan. He was ten times better than me, than Percy, so how come he was the one that died? How come everything that'll be seen of him is his death? 

He would barely even be remembered as a villain, he was just somebody. He deserved more than that.

More than a chapter, more than entire epics, he deserved to live. He deserved to go through his life, for the Fields of Asphodel will never deserve someone as devoted and good as him. He lived for justice, he died for justice, but I would throw that justice at my feet to save him. If only we had switched places.

Ethan Nakamura should have lived. 

I climbed up the ladder by myself. I stood on the wild grass, my furious tears flowing past my face and onto the ground. When they fell, they dragged the blood on my face with them. I looked at the sky, and I finally couldn't hole up whatever was going on. 

I was angry at the gods, at the Moiras who had always been so cruel to me. Rage bubbled inside me, tearing through my lungs and heart. My brother's falling body flashed before my eyes, Kronos's sorrowful gaze. 

A scream crawled up my throat, escaping from my mouth loudly. The roar was hoarse, somewhat primitive, scaring birds and reverberating past the hills. My face burnt: the tears turned burning hot, the hellfire from my eyes scarred the ground below me, but I didn't care. What fell to the grass was not water: it was hatred and spite.

I've always been relatively good with words, but I still can't quite describe how that specific moment felt like... It was like this was the only way to show them what it felt like. No words could possibly illustrate the things I wanted to do to the gods, the suffering I thought of for them. All the pain they'd put me through, telling me it were sacrifices for the world, for the people I loved, and at last they'd still taken everything and everyone from me. 

My brother had given his eye, and I had given my morals, my code, my dignity, my every moment, every second.

Simply for a second look from my mother, a shot at making my brother and everyone else happy. I had done this for my brother, and they took him from me. Although I had sworn to take care of him before my father's grave, they spat at my despair. My own mother did not bother to look.

Soonafter, the other two came out. At that time, I sat on a rock staring into the patch of grass that had died and turned to dry earth on which I had stood on. It was charred, as if I'd burnt it down. The green plant that sprouted from it had now turned to a dead stick.

Percy gently handed my my dagger, and then called Blackjack. Skotos had followed him. 

We ended up putting Beckendorf on Skotos, because she was stronger than the blueish horse, and Beckendorf's weight was more than mine and Percy's combined. 

"Beckendorf should return to camp." Percy declared. "We're going to Olympus"