An Excerpt From My WIP

An Excerpt From My WIP

It hits me then, as soon as the twins leave me alone in this quiet, foreign room, that all I’m doing by coming here is running. Running from the cold stares of Astra. Running from the disbelieving looks from Silas. Running from the silence Mom and Dad are subjecting me to, punishing me with. For all that my being here, under the guise of helping my sister plan her wedding, is, it’s really just me running from reality. 

The guilt of what I did- or rather, didn't do- is nearly crushing now. Now that I’m alone, in a place I do not know, with people I am not familiar with and are not familiar with me. 

My fault.

The thought echoes through my mind, unbidden. 

My fault. 

The breath is knocked from my chest like a punch. 

My. Fault. 

Suddenly, being confined in this unfamiliar room in this unfamiliar place is too much, too much. I run out of the room, ignoring questioning glances from passersby in the corridors. 

Somehow, by the grace of God, I find what looks like a chapel. Not so grand as to be considered a cathedral or even a church. It’s a simple, white thing, this chapel. With beautiful stained glass windows and small wooden pews. 

Walking down the aisle, looking down the rows at each one I pass, I make my way to the steps to the altar. Kneeling down and resting my weight on my knees and feet, I stare up at the ceiling and the rafters above my head. 

“What do I do? How can I right this unforgivable wrong? How will she ever forgive me? Will she ever forgive me? Will she and I ever be able to go back to normal?” I ask, my voice just loud enough to echo slightly through the room. 

“Well, I don’t know what’s wrong, or what you did to be praying like this,” says a voice that startles me so badly that I almost fall over. I turn around to face the owner of the voice. “But maybe I can help you figure it out, the answer you’re looking for.” The man walking towards me is older, clothed in white robes with his hands clasped together in front of him as he walks. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m here to help you find your way,” says the old man. “I’m the preacher of this particular chapel,” he adds helpfully. 

Inclining my head, I watch as he resumes his approach. He lowers himself down onto the step next to where I’m kneeling with no amount of ease. “What is troubling you, my child?” 

My child. Two simple words that shouldn’t mean anything but mean everything instead. Two simple words are all it takes for the dam inside me to break. My throat tightens and my lip trembles and my eyes flood with tears that don’t fall. Tears that refuse to fall.

You deserve a calm love with someone who sees you, hears you, understands you, appreciates you, supports you, and loves you. Someone who makes you feel safe in their energy and brings you peace, commitment, and consistency. A love that never hurts—it heals.

the average height of men in the US is 5’9. annabeth has always been tall - she ends up being about 5’9/5’10 - so she probably always thought that she’d end up with someone who’s her height, maybe even shorter than her. i mean, she was taller than percy up until they were 16, and even then he was her height, not taller

then mr. perseus jackson, in classic percy ‘never let them know your next move’ jackson was like “actually no ☝️” and kept on fucking growing.

she probably prepared herself for the probability of being taller than her future man. she might have even loved the idea. and then her man ends up being fucking 6’2

and i am completely convinced that percy ended up being so tall out of pure stubbornness.

well, that, and he was asleep for 6 months, at prime growing age, and was probably horizontal, so gravity wasn’t working against him. genetics probably played a role too. and i do always say i think demigods tend to be taller…

but mostly because he’s an absolute menace

Someone needs to be passionate about me

starting a new doc labelled: Dear Wrenera, You've Screwed Up.