The Demigod Games (PJO/THG)

35 - Darkness and Drunken Mentors

- Annabeth

Darkness.

For a second, that was all I could see in the dimly-lit, oppressingly small room I was lying in. As my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed were the metal bars to my side lining the entrance, glinting eerily in moonlight.

Encaged.

A tiny, out-of-reach window let small strings of light filter through, barely enough for me to be able to discern my surroundings.
Next... came the pain.

A searing, lacerating burn coming from both my wrists, almost enough to make me faint back into a restless sleep again. I tried to lift my hands up, but they wouldn't budge, firmly stuck in place - twisting my head to try and see what was restraining them, I gasped in shock as I caught a glimpse of the handcuffs imprisoning me.

Two leashes made of what seemed to be pure darkness, their surface bearing shadowy reflections. Every movement I made caused the handcuffs to squirm and shift, ensnaring me further. Around the cuffs, my skin had turned a deathly white, blue-purple veins spreading from my wrists like a growing infection.
Attached to a metal pipe overhead in a sitting T position, there wasn't much space for me to move around. Shifting in my sitting position to try and relieve my swollen limbs, I stretched my head out as far as I could to try and get a glance into the unlit corridor outside. When I spoke, my voice was raspy and broken, as if I hadn't talked for days.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Hello?"

Only a faint echo answered my calls, resonating and bouncing off the cavernous walls like ripples on water. Shaking my handcuffs with a metallic clanging sound, I felt panic cling at me from the bottom of my gut and form a deep knot at the pit of my stomach as I desperately tried to free myself from my bonds. I was trapped, trapped, trapped -

Stop, I said to myself. Calm down. This isn't you. Evaluate the situation.

Taking in a deep breath, I pictured myself in a cozy office, perhaps in New York, sitting down at the desk and inhaling the light scent of old wood. Somehow, the thought always seemed to calm me down.
I pictured filing cabinets before me, representing my thoughts. All I had to do was organize them in a detached way, like I was dealing with a work assignment.
Sighing, I began to put order in my mind as I imagined picking up files and sorting them.

A dark crimson folder labeled Situational panic. That had no place here. I pictured myself crumpling it up detachedly into a ball and throwing it into the rubbish bin below me chair, erasing it from my mind.
A metallic silver document bearing the title Trying to free self from obviously unbreakable bonds. Useless. Bin.
A violet folder entitled Trying to recall where you are and why the hell you're here. That, I could use. Picturing myself laying the document flat on the table and opening it, I started plunging into the depths of my memory...

First, there'd been the arrival into this weird, future world... Percy by my side. The tidal wave, the man on the floor. The police - no, the Peacekeepers - capturing us. The dark, winding alleys of a prison. Getting escorted to our cell... turning a dark corner, Percy in front of me.

I remembered seeing the purple powder float lowly in the air, calmly filtering from the vents overhead... and right into Percy's nostrils.

He'd inhaled the strange mist, had stiffened for a second, and had glanced behind himself, in my direction... but not at me. His gaze bore right through my body and into an unknown point behind, as if I simply wasn't there. He'd then sighed, turned around and kept walking - as if he'd literally forgotten I was there!