The father that I knew doesn't exist in my life anymore. He must be somewhere else in the world, dead or alive, either way he doesn't care about me. My mother turned berserk the day he left her, perhaps when I was just a newborn. She treated me as if I wasn't her own child, which scars many children. Often I would find her at the kitchen table buried underneath a good collection of alcohol bottles, and the room stench of cigarettes. That was six years ago, and now I'm living on my own.
I always feel like I am being watched from the shadows. As if something dark and evil lurks from beyond the unknown. It's creepy and pretty much unnatural. But I got used to the strange sensation and tend to ignore it on occasions. At times, I often get nightmares where I am sitting up in cold sweat and panting.
This particular dream feels all too surreal. I am walking down a familiar road before turning around to a giant silhouette of a monster. In one bite, it swallows me whole and drowns me into the darkness.
I wake up as my face makes contact with the floor. Startle, I sit up and groggily rub my eyes open.
"Oh yes," I sigh, "it's morning,"
Light beams into my covered windows, casting a fairly painful glow off my wooden floors. I make my bed, which is my couch actually, to look presentable and neat before sagging my feet to the bathroom. My eyes adjust to the light quickly and I see a stranger in the mirror.
"Monster," it whispers, but, really, that is only me seeing my reflection with intense multi-colored eyes. So I comb my messy hair and fix my morning breath with minty freshness. Then I dress in a pair of black skinny jeans, and a black and white striped shirt.
"Really," I breathe sharply, "no one will notice me even if they tried to,"
The morning air is crisp and dry, and the city before me is as busy as ever. I make my way down a random street and while I watch people pass, I think thoroughly to myself. 'So far, I haven't gotten close to where I need to be. The library here is pretty much useless since it holds no records of my father.' My mother didn't help me in any other way as well. No words of advice or hints; I was left very alone.
"Oof!" I squeak out as I collide with somebody quite harshly. The person mutters something before widening their eyes. I hold back an attempt to yell at them to watch where they're going. I take a second look on the guy to see curly brown hair and strange looking sneakers. All of the sudden, he does the weirdest thing and sniffs at me.
'What are you, a dog?' I think, but don't make a sound, but with an angry expression across my visage.
"I knew it," the teenage boy exclaims and smiles brightly, "I could defiantly smell you from a mile away!"
I stare at him. He probably is part dog, though.
"We must hurry, though," and he attempts to take my wrist, but I pull away quickly.
"Don't touch me!" I yell at him. He responds with a whimper, however, his eyes plead me to come with him. My mouth moves, but I don't say a word before bolting from the scene. He screams after me, but I won't listen to strangers who sniff at others! Back at my apartment, I slam the door close and feel my heart pounding against my rib case.
"Who the hell was that?!" I yell, and suddenly I see a head bobbing outside my window. "There's no way – it's the second story!"
Wait the gun!
Quick as lightning, I rip open a drawer and glaze my fingertips across a silver pistol. With shaking hands I take it out to accidently dropping it twice before catching it. I point the gun towards him, and he waves his arms frantically and then knocks on the window.
"Why don't you just go through the front door?" I mutter to myself. Somehow, he finds a way in and my fingers slip.
An alarming sound echoes the room and the both of us cower in fear. I peak one eye open to find him still standing there. Just over his shoulder is a small hole burning through the wall.
'I'm so glad…'
The stranger, too, peaks one eye open to see himself still alive. He breathes a sigh of relief, and stares back at me.
"I'm sorry." I admit, and he smiles.
"It's quite alright," he opens the door behind me and faces me. "We must get you out of here before they find you."
I want to protest and demand who he is and what he's talking about, but the way his voice sounds, I make no effort in doing so and let it go.
We dash out into the streets of the city, but then I sense a dark feeling nearing us. It is as though it is sneering at me. Fear washes over me quickly and I can feel my heart pounding against my rib case. Ahead of us are woods that I never knew existed; probably because I don't go further than this.
"This isn't good," the guy exclaims, "it is already here."
We freeze on spot as something big and fluffy bursts from the bushes. White foam drools from its mouth as it snarls hungrily at us. It advances, and the stranger quickly turns to me.
"Quick," he points over the hill where a tall pine tree stands tall with pride, "you have to cross the border line and you'll be safe."
I mouth the word 'safe' before following his orders. However, the beast knows our motives and blocks my way with a roar. The stranger whips out a reed and begins to play. I resist the urge to clamp my ears because the music he's playing is terrible. Though, I don't know the song, the stranger's plan appears to be working.
The beast is distracted, and obviously has a huge distaste to the song. I take my cue and run straight past the monster and up the hill. As I near the tree, I sense something familiar from it. As if I have a connection to the tree.
Suddenly, the beast drops from nowhere and takes a grab at me with its teeth. I fall back and notice in one glance that the stranger is sprawl on the grass, slightly unconscious.
Anger boils somewhere inside of me. The stranger came all his way to help me, and then I am going to let him down by dying. No! I won't let that happen. For once, some one actually cares for me and I am not giving that up just yet.
I stand on my feet with jelly legs and glower at the beast with so much force it starts to whimper. We share a staring contest, but it's having a difficult time keeping eye contact with me.
Don't ever come near me again! I growl and as if it understands me, nods. But then it howls in pain and doubles over. With a quick glance, an arrow has puncture into its back and then the beast explodes into golden dust.
A sudden guilt overruns me, as the stranger bounds up the hill next to me. He pants and tries to ask me about a million of questions. Without knowing it, I step beyond the tree.
A clopping sound nears us, and then I stare up at a tall man. No, he may be tall, but he has a rear of a white stallion. He has burly brown beard and a bow and arrow latch to his back.
"Well done, Grover," he says to the stranger besides me. "She has made it in one piece." The stranger name Grover smiles sheepishly.
"It wasn't easy, but thanks to you, we were able to cross without the blood-hound."
I gape at the tall… man. He notices me and simply smiles.
"Welcome, child, to camp Half-Blood."
"Camp what?"
"Camp Half-Blood," Grover corrects me and nods. "It is a safe place where kids are half-human and half-god."
"But that's im-" I stop and ponder over the thought of immortal gods living amongst the humans. Then, I think about the strange things that have happened earlier in my life.
"What's your name?" the taller man interrupts, as he stares into my eyes, his irises trembles.
"P-Pyper," I reply feebly, as if I am afraid of my own self.
"And your last name, may I ask?"
My face darkens and I give the two a long period of silence. Then with a little courage I say, "I don't remember," It's funny to me that I can't remember my own last name.
"Well then," he nods, "my name is Chiron, and in case you're wondering, I'm a centaur."
"Oh,"
"Annabeth," he calls and soon a girl comes running toward us. "This is Pyper, would you please give her a tour of the camp?" She nods once and turns to smiles at me once Grover and Chiron leave us alone.
"Welcome, Pyper, shall we get going?" Annabeth has stormy grey eyes and blond hair that is up in a ponytail.
I have an odd sensation that this place doesn't like me, and thankfully for them, I don't like them either. I stride along with Annabeth as she begins the tour.
