Clarisse had always been aggressive, hell the camp bully title wasn’t something she earned by accident. But ever since you broke up with her, things had gone from bad to worse. Now, she was practically living in the arena, sending campers to the infirmary on a daily basis. Her voice echoed through camp more often than the conch horn, full of rage and frustration. No one could calm her down, not her siblings, not even Chiron. It was like every ounce of positivity in her had vanished when you left. Like you’d taken whatever balance she had with you, and all that was left was raw anger. You’d been helping out in the infirmary more often lately, and it didn’t take long to realize why. The common denominator in all the injuries? Clarisse.

So when you saw her in the arena again, sweat-soaked, tense, and glaring you decided enough was enough. You had to try something. Anything at all. “Clarisse,” you called out. She turned, her face tightening even more when she saw you. Still, she stalked over, her footsteps heavy, jaw clenched. Without a word, she drove her spear into the sand beside her with just a bit too much force. “What?” she snapped.