I watched as they lowered the coffin into the grave. Something swept over me, something that broke the resolved manner with which I had committed to have throughout this ordeal. I had cried all my tears when I had found out. Tears didn't help, they only hurt more. They only reminded me that she wouldn't be here to cry with me. I felt my eyes sting again and tried to repress the feelings I had. I looked at Paul who was as distraught as I was. The only difference was that he had no problem crying. He didn't see anything wrong with crying over the death of his wife. I did. My mother used to wipe my tears as a child and comfort me. Now when I needed her comfort the most, she was gone. Gone forever because no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't see her until my own life ended. Nico had assured me my mother had achieved Elysium and he had even made sure she didn't have to wait in the lines to get into the underworld. But none of it seemed to matter. I had thanked Nico without feeling and without real gratitude because all he had really done was take my mother farther away from me. I knew it wasn't Nico's fault. But I needed someone to blame. And I had blamed just about everyone I knew. I had even yelled at Paul things that were so awful he had broken down and sobbed that I was right, it was his fault. Annabeth had tried to comfort me but I shut her out. Even now when she reached for my hand I pulled away. I loved Annabeth too much. I realized that the things you love most are always taken from you in the cruelest manner. I had to stop loving. My emotions now centered around hate. Hate was what I felt towards the drunk driver whose car had crashed my mother's. Hate was what I felt towards Paul for letting her go to the store that night. Hate was what I felt towards Hades for taking my mother. Hate was what I felt towards Poseidon for not protecting her. Hate was what I felt towards the fates for snipping the one life thread I hoped I would not live to see cut. Hate was what I felt towards Annabeth for having two mothers who cared about her. But mostly I hated myself. I hadn't gone with her to the store. I hadn't gotten in the car with her. Had I been there I could have saved her. My mother would be with me laughing and breathing and living had I been with her that night. I would still trade places with her, even without my invincibility. I would do anything for her. I would die for her. My mother had meant everything to me. She had been there when no one else had been and never complained about me. She was patient when I smashed the china cabinet practicing my sword fighting skills. She didn't yell even when I got kicked out of school again. I wish I hadn't let her down so many times. She was proud of me despite everything I had done. And now she was gone. Sally Jackson would be nothing more than a memory for most of these people. I had listened patiently to their speeches about her. What a kind friend was and what a good heart she had. But those words didn't mean anything. They sounded like they were printed from ".com". I was the only one who really loved her. I was the only one that had depended on her as much as she had depended on me. I was her only son. I swallowed as the shovel of dirt was thrown on the coffin. I felt one solitary tear leak down my cheek. No. That was all I could think. I knew she was dead but this, this felt too final. And then I realized it was final. The enormity of it all hit me like brick wall. I couldn't stay here any longer. I ran. I ran harder than I thought I could run. I heard them calling my name but I didn't listen. They didn't care about me anymore than I cared about them. The only one who truly cared was my mother. And now she was gone. It was time to say goodbye. And I wasn't ready.

A/N: This is pretty dark and I cried while writing this. It started as an assignment for honors English about the sound of hate. And this is what I came up with. Please Review and let me know what you think.