He doesn't remember anything. The cries, the screams, bones breaking, swords clashing- His yells tried to Find Mikey...No, Michael. Percy pulling him away to save Annabeth while his siblings rotted.

And now, After the war, He can hardly bring himself to focus on reality. Will has never slept on a bed, he was the youngest...WAS the youngest. He used to sleep on the floor, the messy dirty floor littered with his siblings clothes. Now its clean, too clean, no clothes..No socks being thrown on his head when he needed to wake up- nothing. The cabin is silent, eerily quiet.

Will hated Percy. He knew that much. Had he been there in time...Had he left Annabeth to die, had be gotten to Michael sooner the rest of his siblings would've been fine. But nothing is fine.

He's sitting in the empty cabin, laying in one of the cots- Lee's cot. His older brothers old cot, covered in his old blanket, trying to sleep. But he cant, he can't stop the tears, he cant sleep without hearing their screams, seeing their lifeless faces, their mangled dead bodies...He's not himself anymore.

He was the youngest, he kept repeating. The sunshine of the cabin.