Flash Fic February Day Twenty (02/20/2022) Prompt: Dream
It felt like a dream, staring at Percy from across the oasis.
She looked rough, rougher than Hecate had ever seen her. Her blond hair was in tangles, her clothes ripped and torn, like she had fallen or been attacked.
Hecate picked herself up, the glass still clutched in her hand, no longer cutting into her, but still a reminder. The oasis reflected the night sky above it perfectly, like a mirror. Percy was also reflected on its surface, but her eyes were on Hecate. She looked somber, her eyes full of… was that regret?
“Lucy…” Her voice was quiet, guilty. “I didn’t think…” She didn’t finish her sentence, letting it hang in the air.
Hecate filled the silence. “Where are we?”
Percy shrugged. “I dunno. My mind, maybe. Or maybe I got us both killed, and we’re in Hell.”
Emotions warred for dominance within Hecate. She was angry that Percy had potentially gotten them both killed… but she was sad, and afraid, all at the same time. She didn’t know what to say to her; was there anything good one could say to the person who tried to kill you and consume your very being? She settled on a simple: “Why? Percy, why would you do something like this?”
Percy’s eyes squeezed shut, like she were grimacing in pain. “Isn’t it obvious?” She laughed, but it sounded hollow, pained. “You were right: I was jealous of you, and bitter, and angry. I hated you, for being what I couldn’t. And I did the stupidest thing I could, and now we’re here.”
Hecate stood, her anger rising with her. “Is that all you can say?! You might have just killed both of us because you were jealous? Because you couldn’t put your pride aside and ask for help learning aboutthe powers you already have?!”
Percy flinched, but Hecate didn’t feel bad for what she had said. “I don’t know what to say, Lucy. I’m sorry.”
Hecate glowered at her from across the oasis. “Sorry won’t fix what you’ve done, Percy. Nothing will fix it. One of us has to die, if we aren’t both dead already.”
“I didn’t-”
“Think this through? Know what you were doing? You never have, Percy, and you never will. You’re only sorry now because you might die.” Percy didn’t say anything to dispute her. “What’s done is done, Percy; there is no undoing this.”
“I know.” Percy still did not stand, did not rise. Her gaze had drifted away from Hecate; instead, she was staring at their reflections in the water.
“You’ve killed my body, Percy.” A sudden anger overtook her. She spread her arms wide, as she had in the clearing before Percy had charged her. “Commit. Kill my soul, too.”
Percy started to silently cry, her tears falling into the water, rippling and distorting the perfect surface. “I can’t,” she choked on her words. “I can’t do it.”
Hecate threw the glass in her hand. It spun end over end over the water before thudding into the sand in front of Percy. “Fucking commit, Percy!” She knew she was shouting now, and anger she had never known before dominating her mind. “You fucking coward!” Percy was staring at the bloodied shard of glass, silently crying, unmoving. “You were so determined to kill me in the forest, so fucking do it already!”
Percy suddenly rose to her feet, her tears falling faster. “I can’t, I can’t,” she sobbed, backing away. “It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
The pool of water separating them was the only thing keeping Hecate from lunging at Percy. Perhaps what was the most frustrating part of it was Percy’s inability to finish it. She had committed such a horrible crime — had stained her soul — and was faltering at the last step, when most of the damage had already been done. “You already ate the poison, Percy,” Hecate glared at her from across the water. “You might as well lick the goddamn plate.”
Percy’s sobs quieted, the tears now falling silently. “I don’t understand, Lucy. I don’t understand why you’re encouraging me to do this to you.” Hecate could only watch her, but didn’t reply; mainly because she herself didn’t know the answer. She wanted to live, more than anything. That pull to life was what had gotten her over that dune in the first place. So… why was she goading Percy now? But Percy didn’t seem to notice that Hecate didn’t have an answer for her. “No… you’re right. I need to finish what I started. I did this to us. So I need to finish it.”
Hecate let her eyes fall shut, her anger suddenly leaving her. She felt surprisingly calm in the face of her own death. Was this it, then? Was she to die at the hands of her childhood “friend?” She wished she had gotten to see Stephen one last time, at least. She reopened her eyes; if she was to die, she was going to do it with her eyes open. Percy was still standing at the opposite bank, swaying slightly, her fist balled closely at her side.
“I know it doesn’t mean anything anymore,” she said, her voice steely. “I know I’ve said so many apologies that I never meant, and you can’t trust them anymore. I know I was awful. I just wanted to say that… I’m sorry, one last time. You deserved better than me.”
Hecate braced herself for the end. But it never came.
She hadn’t noticed that Percy had picked up the glass shard, hadn’t noticed that she was clutching it in her hand. She only saw it when Percy took it in both hands, holding it out in front of her chest, the sharpest edge pointing at herself. Hecate cried out — to stop her? Out of fear? She didn’t know — but she was across the bank, there was nothing she could do.
So she watched Percy plunge the shard directly into her own chest, blood pouring down her front, staining her clothes an impossibly bright scarlet.
As she did so, Hecate found herself reaching forward, as though she could do something to save Percy — she had to laugh at herself, trying to save her again, after everything that had happened — but as Percy’s blood dripped onto the white sands, the world suddenly violently tilted, as though there were a horrible earthquake. Hecate lost her balance, her momentum carrying her forward, directly towards the oasis.
As she pitched forward, falling into the water, she watched Percy fall to her knees, curling around herself, around the glass in her chest, but she was smiling at Hecate, smiling as she bleed out into the earth. And then Hecate was in the water, falling down and down and down into the impossibly deep depths of the water. Darkness embraced her and she continued to sink, her chest aching for breath — a feeling she hadn’t felt in so long, it startled her.
The water felt thick, and dense, like she were swimming through syrup rather than water. There was a horrible pain in her chest, like she’d been stabbed, like she was aching to breathe. But no matter how much she struggled to swim upwards, she continued to sink down until she could no longer see the surface of the water, and there was only darkness.
She shut her eyes anyway, praying that this had all been some horrible dream, some horrible nightmare. That when she opened her eyes again, everything would be back to how it was.
She didn’t know how long she sank, didn’t know how long had passed since she’d watched Percy drive the glass into her heart. But, eventually, the pain in her chest began to ease, the heavy weight of the water began to fade. The world was being filled with light, so bright she could see it even behind her closed eye lids.
And then she was awake, gasping for breath as she lay on the hard, forest floor, rain drenching her and soaking into her clothes and skin. She felt sick, disoriented. Hecate’s stomach heaved, and she quickly rolled onto her side, hands and knees bracing her, before vomiting onto the grass. Her mind was foggy, unclear. She couldn’t remember where she was, or how she’d gotten here in the first place. Her hands, covered in her blood, trembled. Her nails were painted a soft blue. When had she painted her nails?
Hecate wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her damp hair falling into her face, blond strands clumping together from the rain. She froze. Blond? Why was her hair blond? She couldn’t remember dyeing it. And, why were the stars so quiet? Why couldn’t she feel them watching her anymore?
Shaking, she rose to her feet, unsteady and weak. Her head was pounding; she felt sick, and exhausted, like she hadn’t eaten or rested in days. She turned. Looking around her surroundings. She’d recognized this clearing: this was where she and Percy had their big fight. But she didn’t have time to think about how she had gotten here, or why she was here in the first place.
Something had caught her eye, laying on the floor.
Hecate fell to her knees, mud splattering, as she realized what she was looking at. Who she was looking at. She had come face-to-face own body, laying broken and discarded on the floor like a broken doll. But there was a soft smile on her face; it looked almost like she was sleeping. Her glasses were gone, laying broken and shattered a few feet away.
Sobbing, trembling, Hecate looked down at herself, only to find she was wearing Percy’s clothing. Her body shorter and curvier than it was supposed to be. This has to be a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But she wasn’t waking up. Everything felt too real, too vivid, for it to be a dream.
She cried out for the stars, for help, to answer her, to do anything. But they were silent.
Hecate was alone.
