“Hello, is anybody here?” I call into the house. My voice echoes through the empty rooms. Boxes sit on the porch and a moving truck idles in the driveway, but no one is here.
This is wrong, I think. I know this memory and it is all wrong.
This memory is from my first week in Olympus Hills, but nothing is as I remember it. We’ve just moved here from our little three-bedroom house a few towns over. I still can’t get over how huge our new home is—like it should be a hotel bustling with people, not just the five of us. Maybe that’s why it feels so empty . . .
No, they should be here. My family should be here.
I remember running all the way home from school. I’m excited because I finally made a new friend. A girl named Alexis. She likes Star Wars and singing and even shared her Mountain Dew Code Red with me at lunch. But that’s not the only reason I’m excited. I want to tell the others that I got a part in my middle school’s play. I get to be John in Peter Pan. I didn’t think they were going to let me audition because I’m new, but they did, and I landed exactly the part I wanted.
My mom should be here, in the living room, directing the movers. Dad should be in the kitchen on a conference call, speaking in Japanese. Abbie and Sage should be on the stairs, fighting once again over who should get the biggest room.
That’s how I remember this all happening. But they’re not here. I race through the empty rooms looking for them but they’re nowhere.
They’re gone. All gone.
And I am all alone.
I sit on the stairs and cry until I can’t remember why I was crying. I can’t remember who I was looking for. The house begins to fade away . . .
I awake with a jolt. My body shakes, quivering with pain. I feel as though I have been struck by lightning. A face peers at me through the darkness. I feel like I should know him, but I’ve already forgotten his name.
“Awake again?” he asks.
I nod.
“Comfy?”
I shake my head but then nod. I am quite comfortable in this chair.
“Good,” he says. “You’re going to be there for a long time.”
“How long?” I ask. I have a sudden recollection of trying to find something. Someone? A feeling of urgency grips me and then fades away along with the recollection.
“Have you ever heard of Theseus?” the young man standing in front of me asks.
When did he get here? I blink at him, already having forgotten his question.
“Silly question,” he says, waving his hand. “I suppose if you have heard of Theseus you wouldn’t remember. You probably can’t even remember your own name at this point.”
“I can,” I say, but then I am unable to produce it. Something to do with winter perhaps?
“Anyway,” the young man says. “Theseus is best known from the myth of the minotaur. He was thrown into a labyrinth as a sacrifice to the beast, only he bested the monster and found his way out with a spool of golden thread. I am sure you’ve heard that story. But I wonder if you have ever heard of Peirithous?”
When I don’t respond, he goes on. “Peirithous was Theseus’s best friend. The two were a couple of cocky, douche-bag princes, and riding high on his minotaur fame, Theseus decided he and his bestie deserved to marry daughters of Zeus. Theseus chose a girl named Helen—you’ve probably heard of her even though you can’t remember. She had a ‘face that launched a thousand ships’ and all that. She was only thirteen at the time, so Theseus decided to snatch her up and keep her hidden from other suitors until she could reach marrying age. Peirithous, being king of the tools, decided that he wanted to wed none other than Persephone—never mind the fact that she was already married to Hades, the god of the Underrealm.
“The two young heroes marched right into the underworld and Peirithous, a jackass to his very core, boasted right to Hades’s face that he intended to steal away his bride. He even implied that the goddess would prefer his company over Hades’s. Much to everyone’s surprise, the god invited the two mortals inside the palace. He told them they were welcome to take his wife, but only if they would sit and have a drink with him first. He offered the two dickheads the most comfortable chairs in the palace, but when they sat they were entwined by the chairs. After a few minutes, they completely forgot why they had even come to the underworld. Actually, they completely forgot everything.
“You see, Hades had no intention of giving those two his wife. Instead, he sentenced them to imprisonment for life in the Chairs of Forgetfulness, where he could inflict all kinds of punishment on them for their assholery, and they couldn’t even remember enough to try to get up and leave. Hades had a really great sense of humor that way. Of course, as the legend goes, Theseus was eventually rescued by his cousin, Hercules, but Peirithous was never freed . . .”
“Is there a point to this story?” I ask. “I’d really like to get back to my nap.”
The boy’s voice drops lower, as if he’s trying to sound sinister. “The point is that Peirithous, after thousands of years, still sits in a chair just like the one you occupy right now. I believe he’s in a storage closet somewhere here in the palace. He’s just a shell, all of his memories and identity stripped away, but he’s still alive. And just as he does not remember anyone, nobody remembers him.”
I blink at the young man, struggling to keep my eyes open. I am so very tired. “So?”
“So?” he echoes angrily. “The point is that you are in the same kind of chair. A Chair of Forgetfulness. It will keep you alive, just barely, as it strips away all of your memories, one by one. You’ll never be able to escape—not even through death. I can torture you all I want and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. And when I get the Key, I will be immortal, which means you will get to be my plaything for the rest of eternity.”
He glares at me as if he wants me to ask him why. Or something. I don’t know. What were we talking about again?
“All my life I’ve been treated like a dog. Kicked and scorned and made to fetch. Now it’s someone else’s turn to be the dog.” He pauses and laughs to himself. “Honestly, I had intended to use this chair for Haden—to keep him as my prisoner and inflict on him every pain I have ever suffered, tenfold. But then Daphne had to go and make her binding to me conditional on Haden’s banishment to the mortal world. So you got promoted to the position.”
“Lucky me,” I say and close my eyes.
“Today, Daphne will take me to the Key, and then I will have what I need to set the Keres free . . .”
He goes on talking, but I can’t remember why I should be listening to him anymore. I drift off to sleep . . .
I am jolted awake. My body shakes as if I have just been electrocuted. A face peers at me through the darkness. I feel like I should know him, but I’ve already forgotten his name.
“If all doesn’t go according to plan today, you know what I’m going to do to you, right?” he asks.
I don’t answer. If he’s told me this so-called plan, I don’t remember.
“You had better hope she takes me to the Key, or else you’re the one who is going to pay.” He opens his outstretched hand and threads of crackling, blue lightning bloom up from his palm.
The sight brings on the faintest of recollections.
Memories of pain.
He leaves, sweeping out the door with his black cloak trailing behind him.
I close my eyes, already unable to recall what he said.