Of Gods and Monsters
written by [offline]Rowan Blackthorn
Evie has always been... different. She's seen weird things, and doesn't know what to make of them; but it all changes when she gets attacked and is helped out of danger by an unlikely savior. (Percy Jackson fan fic)
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
46
Reads
499
Be careful what you wish for
Chapter 41
I squinted, trying to see what it was. Slowly, a figure came into view. It had a stumbling gait, as if it were tired… Or drunk. My dad’s face, his eyes half shut and mouth open, appeared in front of me. For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn’t see me, because that’s usually what happened when I was in front of him; but this time I wasn’t lucky. He stopped in front of me suddenly, and looked up from the bottle of beer in his hand.
“You,” he spat. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” He took a swig from the bottle, then looked back at me. “It’s… your fault.” he slurred, his voice quiet. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!” I flinched away from him as he yelled out. “YOUR FAULT SHE’S ISN’T HERE! YOUR FAULT SHE DIED!” He raised his hand, and I cringed away, hoping to avoid the incoming blow; but it didn’t come. “You were never good enough,” my dad whispered, dropping his hand and raising the bottle to his lips again. “You never were, and never will be.”
I could feel myself trembling, although whether it was from fear or the cold of the void I wasn’t sure. I tried to tell myself that it was just an illusion, a hallucination induced by the gods of Fear and Panic; but it didn’t help. Not for the first time, I wished that my mom was beside me; but as they say, be careful what you wish for.
“Evie?” my mom’s voice rang out behind me, and I whirled around to face her. If I had been less panicked, I would have realized that my dad wasn’t there anymore; but I didn’t.
“Mom?” my voice was a hoarse whisper. “Mom, I-” I laughed, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I reached out towards her, but instead of letting me touch her, she stepped away; and that was when I saw the cold look in her eyes.
“Your father is right, Evie.” her voice was now frigid, and seemed to cut deep into my heart. “It is your fault I’m not standing beside you, I’m not alive anymore. Whenever I look at you, all I feel is…” she paused. “Disappointment. Revulsion. Disgust.”
This, her quiet but sharp voice, cutting me up inside, was worse than yelling. The temperature around me seemed to drop a further ten degrees. I stumbled back, wanting to get away, but there was nowhere to go; no matter how many steps I took, I stayed in the same place. My knees buckled, and I was kneeling on the floor.
“Mom, I-” a sob choked the words, and suddenly I could barely keep my tears back. She looked down at me, her gaze as hard as stone.
“You were always weak,” she said, shaking her head. And then she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more.
“You,” he spat. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” He took a swig from the bottle, then looked back at me. “It’s… your fault.” he slurred, his voice quiet. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!” I flinched away from him as he yelled out. “YOUR FAULT SHE’S ISN’T HERE! YOUR FAULT SHE DIED!” He raised his hand, and I cringed away, hoping to avoid the incoming blow; but it didn’t come. “You were never good enough,” my dad whispered, dropping his hand and raising the bottle to his lips again. “You never were, and never will be.”
I could feel myself trembling, although whether it was from fear or the cold of the void I wasn’t sure. I tried to tell myself that it was just an illusion, a hallucination induced by the gods of Fear and Panic; but it didn’t help. Not for the first time, I wished that my mom was beside me; but as they say, be careful what you wish for.
“Evie?” my mom’s voice rang out behind me, and I whirled around to face her. If I had been less panicked, I would have realized that my dad wasn’t there anymore; but I didn’t.
“Mom?” my voice was a hoarse whisper. “Mom, I-” I laughed, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I reached out towards her, but instead of letting me touch her, she stepped away; and that was when I saw the cold look in her eyes.
“Your father is right, Evie.” her voice was now frigid, and seemed to cut deep into my heart. “It is your fault I’m not standing beside you, I’m not alive anymore. Whenever I look at you, all I feel is…” she paused. “Disappointment. Revulsion. Disgust.”
This, her quiet but sharp voice, cutting me up inside, was worse than yelling. The temperature around me seemed to drop a further ten degrees. I stumbled back, wanting to get away, but there was nowhere to go; no matter how many steps I took, I stayed in the same place. My knees buckled, and I was kneeling on the floor.
“Mom, I-” a sob choked the words, and suddenly I could barely keep my tears back. She looked down at me, her gaze as hard as stone.
“You were always weak,” she said, shaking her head. And then she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more.
