Annabeth yells into the tunnel before her: "Percy! Percy!"
In response, there is silence, then a groan. It sounds as if it is mechanical, yet alive.
She Leans forward, pitches her voice a bit louder. "Percy?"
She creeps closer into the dark tunnel. As she progresses, she hears another groan, but this time closer.
Behind her, there is a fast movement, a swish, then a clatter. Annabeth spins and continues going down the tunnel, ever more cautious.
"Hello? If you guys are gonna scare me, I'm warning you right now, don't."
She hears the high-pitched laughter of a young child and whirls around. She shines her flashlight and sees someone half hidden in the shadows.
"We don't want to scare you, Annabeth."
The person turns, and Annabeth sees Percy, his shirt off, wounds all over his arms and chest and face, every hue of blue and black. She runs to Percy, fighting to not let terror make her collapse.
"What happened, Percy? What - Where - How - "
Percy simply looks ahead, straight into her face, seeing and not seeing. He has a smile that stretches his face; his wounds are gushing blood.
"We don't want to scare you, Annabeth. We don't want to scare you, Annabeth. We don't want to scare you, Annabeth. We don't want to hurt you, Annabeth."
Percy continues to speak electronically as if he were simply a programmed part of an amusement park ride. Annabeth shines her flashlight around, looking for help and what caused her boyfriend's wounds. As she looks, there is a large rumbling. She looks around fiercely, only to have yet another wave of terror paralyze her: the walls are closing in. She stands as they scrape the floor. She shuts her eyes as they draw near; she feels the wall graze her shoulder - silence. She peeks out and sees the wall centimeters away from her face. She stares at the wall, not wanting to comprehend what had happened. Her trance was broken by the feeling of something wet on her shoes. She looks down and sees a dark red substance. Annabeth squats and feels the thick liquid. Her ears hear a soft splashing then realize Percy has stopped talking. She turns her head and sees his legs near, partially obscured by a torrent of the same liquid that pools at both his and her feet. She follows the tiny waterfall up, stopping at his waist - she sees the source.
A tiny wound is spilling blood, dark red, a little waterfall. She sees more torrents and slowly follows each one to its source. She cowers at the sight of so much blood - the smallest one, no larger than a thumbtack, is spilling as though it were the monsoon. She tries to get closer to her beloved, but each step is like walking through thick honey. She reaches out - she's only fingertips away. She lunges forward, and her palm just barely misses Percy's shoulder. She falls face first into the blood pool on the floor. She looks up and sees his shoes. She reaches out desperately, her face now caked in tears, little droplets, each one pulling her further into despair. She can reach them, they're not that far, keep going, going, going, come on, and then she brushes them -
Annabeth wakes up, tears streaming down her face, breaking like snowflakes on the bedsheets; Her arm is outstretched, still reaching for the shoes. She takes control of herself, and by morning she is collected, though she cannot shake off the feeling her husband is gone, gone far away. She dresses and walks down stairs, enters the kitchen - and sees Percy on the counter, their buchter's knife in his chest.