Disclaimer: I do not in any way own the amazing awesomeness that is Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Please do not make me say it again.
Run, Run, As Fast As You Can.
Clarisse had feelings. She wasn't a robot. She kept everything bottled up, dealt with her mother being a pain, her father's needs never being satisfied, her "friends" and siblings being all-natural idiots, and the love of her life going insane. No one stopped to look at her in the thoughts that she couldn't be broken and how painfully untrue that was. She was a bully. Bullies were naturally tough, naturally somehow immune to the things people (or half-people) thought of her. She wished she could be a stereotype. Over the years she had made herself look so tough and strong and built these walls up around herself to make it seem as if she weren't a vulnerable girl who wished more then nothing to have a normal life with friends and worries that weren't life-or-death.
People could deny it all they want but Clarisse never took it too far. She didn't make sadistic remarks about dead parents or serious issues. She stopped at breaking point and never went over. She had learned that much from her lightweight mother. Insulting other's parents was simply hipocritical and she was on no circumstances a hipocrite. She was just a circumstancial bully with nothing better to do then make fun of people. Because in all reality, it made her feel better about herself. She felt the world was constantly raining on her, raining on her life and her mood and all the things that happened. Getting everything all wet and soggy and making her miserable. Who in the name of Zeus' big and fluffy beard was the water god, anyways?.. Right. Poseidon. Percy punk Jackson's dang daddy. Clearly Poseidon had chosen years ago to simply make her life a living Hades and the way his son fought with her only inhanced the misery in her sad sorrow life. Yeah. That's what she'd tell her therapist. (So what if she wanted one? Therapists were badass.)
She'd never be her father's favorite. Her mother couldn't even look her in the eye. She walked with trouble and the trouble ran away. She chased after it and fell into an endless race that needed to be won. But she could barely stop. She seemed to move without telling herself to, never slowing down, never giving mercy, never stopping... It hurt and Clarisse could never even register it. She never cried in public or expressed fear. She bullied and did things, beat people up and acted like she really did not care at all about anyone's feelings or anyone's tears. If she didn't get what she wanted from them, they shouldn't get what they want. Tears but no comfort, pain but no mercy, screaming but no silencing. The pain came and left and it was always there in the back of her mind begging to burst out.. but after so many years, the walls were built so strong they couldn't be broken. Clarisse could run. Both pysically and mentally. She was the fastest in camp if you didn't count a four-legged Chiron. And she had run from the hurt for so long that it was almost time for her clock to run out. She never stopped, never looked back, never paid any attention to the mirror that chased her and dared her to look into it and see the damage that's been done. The damage that will always follow her. Never give up never back down never give up always be tough...
Clarisse had been running. Running for a long time. And it was near time for her to stop.
_
So it's midnight and I'm emotional. Blame me for writing a sad fanfic about Clarisse's sobstory of a life, why dontcha?
*Robyn.