A lot of people might think my life is perfect. My life consists of, money, a big house, four shiny credit cards tucked nicely in my wallet, name brand clothes, maids, butlers, personal chefs, but to top it all off I was pretty. Those people, who think that, are wrong. Having a horrible, abusive dad was not perfect. Everyone hating me, because they want to be me, is not perfect. I could choose to be popular, but even the people who say they're my friends, just want my stuff, and my money, and my house. They wouldn't be my friends at all, they would be my wannabes. My only happiness is the summer. Only because I spend it at Camp Half Blood. Yeah I might be alone there too, but it's better than spending my entire summer in my house. Not because I have nowhere to go, but because I have nobody to go with. Every single year, because he says he'll be lonely without me. That's when a nasty fight starts. It normally starts with me yelling at him that he won't be lonely because I'm sure he could make do with one of our younger maids, it ends with a big red mark across my cheek, in the shape of my fathers hand, and my pillow wet with tears. The only thing that could ever calm me down, were the kind words of my mother. Written in the letter she gave me the last time we were together. 5 years ago when I was 13.

Dear my Amanda,

We won't be seeing each other for quite some time. Your father might seem a little angry when I don't come visit for over 3 years. Hold out my daughter because everything will turn out alright. You might not believe me now, but I'm sure in the future you will understand. Make sure you get to camp every year until I come back. That is essential. Your father may plead with you to stay home, but make sure you get to camp. No matter what happens my dear, get to camp. I may seem a little obsessive about you getting to camp, but understand that my obsession is for a good cause. Now hold on tight, keep living life, let your garden bloom to its limit, and look on to the future. I love you.

Love,

Your loving mother, Demeter.

P.S.: Say hello to Katie for me.

These words always calmed me down, I don't know why, but just because my mom told me to always go to camp, I always made sure I went to camp no matter what my dad told me he would buy for me if I didn't go. Besides, he already has given me anything I've asked for. Every time I read my moms letter, I wonder why she ever married him. He's the most selfish, cruel, and unloving man I've ever known. My stuff is always packed at least a week before the camp bus actually comes to pick me up. I leave a weeks worth of clothes to wear, and just to piss off my dad I leave my bags and suitcases by the door just so whenever he walks past them he knows I'm just one day closer to leaving.

Finally. The week is over. The last thing I need to grab is my bow and quiver of arrows, the note from my mom, and the pot that holds my sunflower that I grew from just a tiny seed. I hear a bus honk, and I smile from ear to ear, the day has finally come. The maids are loading a summers worth of clothes into the trunk of the bus. I am just about to step onto the small regular yellow run down school bus, when someone grabs my arm. My dad, "What?" I ask. Does he really think he's going to stop me from going to the one place that brings me happiness? No. No matter what he said, I was leaving. Intending to keep my mothers request until she visits.

His face was pained; he looked at me with saddened eyes. I thought he was going to ramble on about how useless of a daughter I was, and that I didn't deserve to go to camp. He said something that surprised me. He said only one word, "Please." I saw right through his little sad guy act. I knew the only reason he grabbed my arm was because he wanted me to stay so he could have somebody to fight with, and then punish that very night.

I snorted, and ripped my arm out of his grasp, which is surprising because I normally try and settle things calmly, but my cord of calmness had snapped and I hissed in his ear, "You think you're going to stay? After all the red marks, fights, bruises, and sleepless nights? No! I'm SICK OF IT!" The last words had risen to a yell, and people were starting to look out the windows.

"I've changed!" he protested. His words said so, but his eyes were full of anger and rage. I knew that if I stayed, my night would be rough.

I looked him straight in those angered eyes and replied, "You, are not, keeping me away from camp." And with that, I strode onto the bus and pointed my head down so I wouldn't have to look at all the eyes pointed at me. I pushed through until I got to the farthest seat to the back I could find. I whipped out the letter from my mom, and read it over and over again until my heartbeat came back down to normal. How had I gotten that mad? Sons and daughters of Demeter are supposed to be calm, and collected. Why did I all of a sudden crack like that? This question floated around my head, and I just couldn't block it out.