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“Look what you’ve done to my son!”

I could barely lift my head to see who the heck was making all that noise. Apollo speed-walked in my direction, stopping a few times to wave his hands in distress and stutter and heal any wounded with a touch and then keep rushing about. The sky was noticeably darker, and in the lake behind us bubbled and steamed the golden Jaguar. I was so weak, drained from whatever Nico had done when he shadow travelled. It’s like he sapped all my strength instead of his. A few feet in front of me, Annabeth lay still on the mix of grass and sand. I crawled my way over to her, grimacing at the pain in my side. Just as I reached her, Apollo stooped to touch her forehead. “Just a concussion,” he said, before he none too gently flipped me onto my back and poked some fingers into my wound. I gasped and almost punched my godly father in the face when I felt a finger probe what I’m pretty sure was my liver. Grey spots filled my vision, and I’m ashamed to say that I made some sort of mewling noise.

“Stop it!” Nico raced over to us closely followed by Calypso, but a flick of Apollo’s hand kept them a good five feet from us. Anyways the wound had gone completely numb. My headache disappeared and my vision cleared. Apollo glared back at Nico like he was a bad taste in his mouth. “There was poison on that knife, you petulant brat! I know what I’m doing!” All I thought about was how weird it is to look up at your dad who’s the same age as you.

In seconds my skin sealed itself, though my shirt still gaped open. Annabeth was back on her feet and smiling like she was high. Milo caressed a broken forearm, but Apollo tapped his shoulder and it clicked into place. He pulled me up quickly and then gestured to the boiling lake. “And my other sun! You… You… AGH! Now I have to drive that old chariot until Hephaestus fixes this mess you’ve made of my sports car. He just finished installing the new heated seats too! I’m gonna have to wait months before it’s fixed! Damn you, son of Hades…”

Nico’s usual rebellious glare was now clearly masking a little bit of uncertainty and fear. “Actually, I can’t be damned-“

Apollo interrupted him with a stare full of malice. The rest of the group, including myself, stood in uncomfortable silence. “Father… thank you for-“

I stopped when the same stare became directed at me. Behind his youthful features, the curled golden hair and electric blue eyes, I realized, the anger of a god couldn’t be hidden. Such anger suited him, in a strange way. Then his face softened and he sighed, looking back out at where his prized car would be at the bottom of the lake, then between myself and Nico. “We’ll continue our previous conversation later,” he said to Nico, who’s face reddened. Then Apollo disappeared, and in his place good ol’ Bernard plonked hard into the ground with a loud honk. I have to say, I missed the Jaguar at that point.

On a nearby tree, isolated on its own island a few feet from shore, hung a bloody and dripping goatskin. This must be Lake Erie, I guess. Perfect timing. I jumped over the water, grabbed the thing, and jumped back, racing for the van. Why am I in a hurry again? Something happened… Something important and bad was happening, and I’m forgetting about it. Joel! That’s right. Timor and Joel. “We have to get back!” I hopped into the van as quickly as possible, barely waiting for anyone before slamming on the gas and speeding away towards home, following Annabeth’s frantic directions. I just prayed to God I made it in time.

I’d dropped everyone off at camp with the satyr hide before coming home, ignoring their conncerned questions. There was just no time to answer.

I made it back to the house in record time. Forgot to lock the car on my way up. The stairs were the same. The door remained unchanged. Nothing seemed out of order. I took a deep breath, slid in the key, and pushed the door open.

The inside was a different story.

The new couch was ripped open. Feathers and papers lay strewn about the whole living room. My stomach dropped when I saw the enormous puddle of drying blood soaking into the carpet. Garrett's body was laying completely motionless against the wall, as though someone had thrown him there. He wasn't breathing. I flew up the stairs to my room, the door already ajar. Inside was a mess, with books thrown from the shelf and my bed upturned. In the center of the room, struggling to breath, lay the new dog, whose name I couldn’t remember. Her throat was cut and bloody. Otherwise, there was no blood in the whole room. Without a second thought, I knelt by her, quickly put her out of her misery, and searched the rest of the house. Where was Joel? Where was Quintenn?

Back in the living room, I noticed that on the front door a bloody “T” was carved into the wood. At that moment the panic set in. I immediately knew it was put there to quell any doubt.

He was gone.

It had been three days since I got back. Three days since he… left. That’s what I have to call it now, just so that I can keep functioning. I’m not sure it’s working. Quintenn hasn’t shown up, so I’m assuming he died trying to protect him, as the contract stated he should. And Garrett… He was now buried in the nearby cemetery.

I stayed at a secluded area of Calvert County beach. Joel liked to come here a lot. The sunset was nice, especially from the cliff. I didn’t like the cliff though, because it was a relatively popular tourist spot, and now the sunset was just this bittersweet reminder of everything that happened. I hated its beauty with a gut-wrenching passion. But Joel liked the view. So here I stood, probably in the way of everyone’s perfect sunset instagram photo, or too tall for the vacationing grandparents, and I just hated being there. Or existing at all, really. I thought that if Joel were with me, he’d be on my shoulders, rattling on about how beautiful the colours are and how they mesh with the water. I missed his chubby fingers pulling on my hair, and his contagious smile, and his hugs. My heart ached when I thought of him. It was physically pushing against my chest, trying to eject itself to wherever he was.

What happened next took a second, but felt like an hour. Someone pushed me just a little too roughly, and I didn’t catch myself in time. Or rather, I didn’t bother to catch myself. I tumbled over the side, falling and falling and rocks getting closer and closer. Nothing really crossed my mind. I was blissfully at peace, because the only thought I had time to think was that I’m going to see Joel again.

I didn't really realize that I was killing myself. I'd tried to keep those thoughts out of my head the past few days. Sometimes it had come very, very close. Yesterday I was in a public bathroom stall, a bottle of Garrett's anti-depressant pills open in my hand and about 20 pills poured into the other. The lack of will to live was incredibly intense. But even if I killed myself, I wouldn't see him. We would be in opposite places of Hell. But this- this was not my fault. I could die knowing I would see my little brother again.

Suddenly I’m slowing down. The wind is slightly less harsh against my face. Long black hair whips around wildly, tangling in my own. Quintenn has his freezing pale arms around my waist and is pulling me up against gravity. “He’s not dead! He’s not dead!”

That one sentence brought me back to reality. I flailed around for something to stop the fall, probably accidentally hitting Quintenn in the face. The rocks are only yards away now. “Stop!” I’m just yelling and scrambling and Quintenn is pulling as hard as he can, so much so that my chest hurts from his force, but I’m not slowing down enough. “Quintenn!”

I heard him grunt with effort. “I’m trying!”

Everything goes dark.