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It was hard to imagine that Tartarus, a place where the gods imprisoned their most powerful rivals, was someplace where a Demigod could reform himself. If you ask him, it was a bit too much a chastisement that he truly deserved. For gods' sake, the Titans are here. It rested even lower than the realm of Hades. It was even more horrible than the Underworld. If anyone should be in this place, it was Sylas. That man was a genuine monster and a clear threat to everyone, yet the only one facing punishment was Liam.
While it had only been half a day, part of his "punishment" included a warped perception of time. For Liam, it has been days, and those days slipped into weeks. Before he knew it months had crawled by with excruciating slowness. Since there were no signs of a day beginning or ending, they felt even more tedious than ever. In the bowels of Tartarus it was unrelentingly hot; the air so thick they felt like walls crushing him. Sweat rolled off of his body, and he had long since disregarded most of his wardrobe save for his boxers. He was also stripped of his Demigod powers, leaving him as nothing more than a condemned mortal.
Stretched before the son of Ares was a path. It was short and thin; comprised of inky stone with shiny smooth faces. At the other end of this path was the exit. Try as he might, no matter how hard he ran or fast, the path would become engulfed in flames. Liam's flesh peeled from the bone, smoke filled his lungs, and he nearly died the most harrowing and slowest of deaths with every second felt truly and deeply. Just shy of dying, he'd end up at the beginning of the path without even a singe on his body.
He just wanted to go home. Then again, he wondered if there was a home to go to. In between his attempts to run down the path, he had moments of clarity where that feeling of urgency dissipated and he was condemned to his thoughts. They never lasted long - maybe five minutes at the most. During one of them, he had flopped down onto his ass, drew his knees up to his chest, and leaned back against his arms that were stretched behind him. He laughed, thinking about what got him here. A woman. His mind drifted back to the moment they met, and all she had to do was talk to him just once. Just one time. How crazy was that?
The more he thought about that, the more he laughed at himself. From the second she touched him and he noticed her, it was like - she was all that existed. It was silly, he thought. How could a man like him become a lovestruck puppy? Not even a cute one, either. More like a lovestruck bull, maybe?
That thought melted away and his sense of needing to escape Tartarus swelled in his belly once again, and he took off only for the same tragic near-death experience to occur. This time he screamed out with frustration into the void that was Tartarus. He did that many times, actually.
Rinse and repeat, the thought process - these moments of clarity, were also part of his punishment. He just didn't know it. To condemn Liam only to being burned to death would just make him angrier than ever. He needed to be alone with his mind. Liam had never slowed down to think about his life. He never had moments like these. He lived on the edge; a quick and dangerous life that never slowed down enough to consider anything at all. Even at Camp Athens he just did things without thought.
Like with Sloane. She never asked him to do anything for her, he just did it. Like he was some kind of attack dog. Some kind of animal protecting its owner. Or was it that he thought she needed his help? He thought about some of the things she had said during their sparring session. Were they true? Had he done more harm than good?
No, no. Impossible. Sloane had to be forced out of that fucked up relationship with her brother. It was just unfortunate that it had to be him because he had gone about it in all the worst ways. There could have been better paths, but he chose the most violent and unforgivable one. He did do it for her. Right? Right. It wasn't his fault. At the very least, it wasn't all his fault. It was also Sylas'. That prick.
Gods, that snake made his anger boil over.
These were how his thoughts ran amok in between his attempts to escape this nightmarish pit. It was all back and forth - talking to himself, thinking out loud - wondering if he was the monster.
During one of his interims, he became genuinely upset out of nowhere. Tossed back at the beginning of the path, he fell to his knees and slammed his forehead into the ground. His stepfather could have helped him with things like this. Maybe even taught him how to be a better man so that being a monster wouldn't have been the last thought he left the people he loved with. His mom. His sister. Sloane. Maybe even his half-sister and probably the entire camp (not that he loved them). He lost his father at a time when a boy needed one the most.
He didn't remember mourning for him, only being bitter. He pulled his body up a bit, now on his knees with his palms clawing at the hot Tartarus ground. The man was in tears; caught up in an ugly bout of crying. He reached up and grabbed at the center of his chest, clutching the skin and sinew as if trying to dig his heart out from beneath it all. He wiped away tears with his other hand.
What had he done with his life? His father would be deeply ashamed of him. Why was the only father he had left so hands-off in helping to raise him? Why was he left on his own to fend for himself? Maybe if he hadn't scared his mother, gone to juvie for assault and battery, or continued down the same violence-laden path - he might have turned out differently. Maybe if he had a figure to show him how to live through all of this innate rage, he wouldn't be here right now.
How long has it been by the time he's on the ground mentally and emotionally broken? Months? He just wished he could die, really. That would be best. What kind of life could a man like him lead when he just left a trail of broken people in the wake of his bad decisions?
In the last moments of his time down in Tartarus, after he's gone through just about every emotion in the book, he was left with future thoughts. His dad wouldn't want him to live this way. Ares might, but he doesn't consider the god as anything more than a sperm donor. His stepfather, who he's always just called "dad", would have raised him differently. Liam knew what he wanted. He envisioned it. Call him crazy -but love, at first sight, is a real thing. Obviously, as he is living through it.
He wanted to be normal. He didn't want to be an animal constantly worrying that he had to be kept on a short leash. He wanted to be controlled and restrained, but not by others - by himself. He imagined that, if he could become the man that his father was, he could also live happily as he did. Wife. Kids. Rocco. They never had things like money, but what his family had while his dad was alive was happiness.
After so long of living like this, Liam realized that he wanted that, too. At the same time, he knew he'd never get it if he didn't learn that traveling along the same crazy road was going to always land him at the same nasty place. Alone.
Liam returned to Camp Athens sometime in the early morning in the same clothes that he wore yesterday. He was taken to the beach, and with his hands deep in his pockets, he walked along the path to the woods and eventually toward his own cabin. He noticed that it was empty, but that was to be expected. Even his dog was gone. He didn't stress because, somewhere deep down inside, he thinks that Sloane would have cared enough not to leave him alone. Rocco was with her somewhere.
He showered, changed, and then crashed face first onto his bed. His exhaustion hit him like a truck without warning.
While it had only been half a day, part of his "punishment" included a warped perception of time. For Liam, it has been days, and those days slipped into weeks. Before he knew it months had crawled by with excruciating slowness. Since there were no signs of a day beginning or ending, they felt even more tedious than ever. In the bowels of Tartarus it was unrelentingly hot; the air so thick they felt like walls crushing him. Sweat rolled off of his body, and he had long since disregarded most of his wardrobe save for his boxers. He was also stripped of his Demigod powers, leaving him as nothing more than a condemned mortal.
Stretched before the son of Ares was a path. It was short and thin; comprised of inky stone with shiny smooth faces. At the other end of this path was the exit. Try as he might, no matter how hard he ran or fast, the path would become engulfed in flames. Liam's flesh peeled from the bone, smoke filled his lungs, and he nearly died the most harrowing and slowest of deaths with every second felt truly and deeply. Just shy of dying, he'd end up at the beginning of the path without even a singe on his body.
He just wanted to go home. Then again, he wondered if there was a home to go to. In between his attempts to run down the path, he had moments of clarity where that feeling of urgency dissipated and he was condemned to his thoughts. They never lasted long - maybe five minutes at the most. During one of them, he had flopped down onto his ass, drew his knees up to his chest, and leaned back against his arms that were stretched behind him. He laughed, thinking about what got him here. A woman. His mind drifted back to the moment they met, and all she had to do was talk to him just once. Just one time. How crazy was that?
The more he thought about that, the more he laughed at himself. From the second she touched him and he noticed her, it was like - she was all that existed. It was silly, he thought. How could a man like him become a lovestruck puppy? Not even a cute one, either. More like a lovestruck bull, maybe?
That thought melted away and his sense of needing to escape Tartarus swelled in his belly once again, and he took off only for the same tragic near-death experience to occur. This time he screamed out with frustration into the void that was Tartarus. He did that many times, actually.
Rinse and repeat, the thought process - these moments of clarity, were also part of his punishment. He just didn't know it. To condemn Liam only to being burned to death would just make him angrier than ever. He needed to be alone with his mind. Liam had never slowed down to think about his life. He never had moments like these. He lived on the edge; a quick and dangerous life that never slowed down enough to consider anything at all. Even at Camp Athens he just did things without thought.
Like with Sloane. She never asked him to do anything for her, he just did it. Like he was some kind of attack dog. Some kind of animal protecting its owner. Or was it that he thought she needed his help? He thought about some of the things she had said during their sparring session. Were they true? Had he done more harm than good?
No, no. Impossible. Sloane had to be forced out of that fucked up relationship with her brother. It was just unfortunate that it had to be him because he had gone about it in all the worst ways. There could have been better paths, but he chose the most violent and unforgivable one. He did do it for her. Right? Right. It wasn't his fault. At the very least, it wasn't all his fault. It was also Sylas'. That prick.
Gods, that snake made his anger boil over.
These were how his thoughts ran amok in between his attempts to escape this nightmarish pit. It was all back and forth - talking to himself, thinking out loud - wondering if he was the monster.
During one of his interims, he became genuinely upset out of nowhere. Tossed back at the beginning of the path, he fell to his knees and slammed his forehead into the ground. His stepfather could have helped him with things like this. Maybe even taught him how to be a better man so that being a monster wouldn't have been the last thought he left the people he loved with. His mom. His sister. Sloane. Maybe even his half-sister and probably the entire camp (not that he loved them). He lost his father at a time when a boy needed one the most.
He didn't remember mourning for him, only being bitter. He pulled his body up a bit, now on his knees with his palms clawing at the hot Tartarus ground. The man was in tears; caught up in an ugly bout of crying. He reached up and grabbed at the center of his chest, clutching the skin and sinew as if trying to dig his heart out from beneath it all. He wiped away tears with his other hand.
What had he done with his life? His father would be deeply ashamed of him. Why was the only father he had left so hands-off in helping to raise him? Why was he left on his own to fend for himself? Maybe if he hadn't scared his mother, gone to juvie for assault and battery, or continued down the same violence-laden path - he might have turned out differently. Maybe if he had a figure to show him how to live through all of this innate rage, he wouldn't be here right now.
How long has it been by the time he's on the ground mentally and emotionally broken? Months? He just wished he could die, really. That would be best. What kind of life could a man like him lead when he just left a trail of broken people in the wake of his bad decisions?
In the last moments of his time down in Tartarus, after he's gone through just about every emotion in the book, he was left with future thoughts. His dad wouldn't want him to live this way. Ares might, but he doesn't consider the god as anything more than a sperm donor. His stepfather, who he's always just called "dad", would have raised him differently. Liam knew what he wanted. He envisioned it. Call him crazy -but love, at first sight, is a real thing. Obviously, as he is living through it.
He wanted to be normal. He didn't want to be an animal constantly worrying that he had to be kept on a short leash. He wanted to be controlled and restrained, but not by others - by himself. He imagined that, if he could become the man that his father was, he could also live happily as he did. Wife. Kids. Rocco. They never had things like money, but what his family had while his dad was alive was happiness.
After so long of living like this, Liam realized that he wanted that, too. At the same time, he knew he'd never get it if he didn't learn that traveling along the same crazy road was going to always land him at the same nasty place. Alone.
* * *
Liam returned to Camp Athens sometime in the early morning in the same clothes that he wore yesterday. He was taken to the beach, and with his hands deep in his pockets, he walked along the path to the woods and eventually toward his own cabin. He noticed that it was empty, but that was to be expected. Even his dog was gone. He didn't stress because, somewhere deep down inside, he thinks that Sloane would have cared enough not to leave him alone. Rocco was with her somewhere.
He showered, changed, and then crashed face first onto his bed. His exhaustion hit him like a truck without warning.