Page 193 of Blood of Hercules
The chair didn’t move.
Drapes fluttered as a breeze gusted.
The room was silent.
You’re losing your mind again, Alexis. Get it freakin’ together, woman. No voices are whispering. You’re imagining things.
Sanity was easier said than done these days.
Pulling at my curly (frizzy) hair, breathing erratically, I slowly backed away from the inanimate object I’d just scolded.
There were cries for help, then there werecriesfor help. This was the latter.
I fell to my knees.
Buried my head in my hands.
“Freak, fluck, biatch, crud, darn, flippin’, shrit,” I wailed despondently, but my eyes were bone dry because emo girls didn’t cry (I’d cried yesterday).
The despair continued.
I missed Charlie and Fluffy.
With every cell in my body, I wished I was back starving in the woods.
That night, I dreamed of piano music, a box full of body parts,glowing red eyes, skeletal monsters, a strange obsession tinged with possessiveness, a skeleton holding up its middle finger, scratchy writing on a note, and callused fingers digging into my skin.
The devil called me carissima and whispered that he was going to take care of me from now on.
I woke up screaming.
The next morning, I reluctantly took off my emotional support sweatshirt, then met up with Patro and Achilles in the kitchen to have food (eat as much as possible in five seconds) before going back to the academy.
Patro made small talk about a new Spartan gun they were releasing, but Achilles said nothing, because he literally couldn’t, and Nyx snored around my neck.
Helen walked into the kitchen, then pulled the seat out right next to mine.
“Hi again!” she said.
I waved awkwardly, then wanted to end myself for being so socially weird.She’s a foot away. Why would you wave?
This was definitely why people hated me.
“How did you sleep?” Helen asked, completely unaware that I was mentally spiraling. “I slept great—the mattresses in this little cottage are amazing.”
Little cottage? This is a mansion.
She blinked expectantly, and I realized she was waiting for a response.
“Horribly,” I said truthfully.
She grimaced. “Sorry about that. A good night’s sleep is crucial to cognitive functioning.”
I nodded. “That w-would explain a lot of things.”
She pursed her lips like she couldn’t decide if I was joking or not.
I shoved half a loaf of bread in my mouth, then washed it down with butter and a handful of grapes.
