For all of the readers who know who I am, Ta da! I'm not dead! But I might be, considering a lot of you aren't too thrilled with my disappearance. To be honest, I'm not too thrilled myself. And no, I didn't wind up in a mental institution locked away from humanity. I'm assuming that would have been everyone's first guess. But I took a break-a longer break than I wanted to. I wanted to focus more on original fiction, creating my own stories with my own characters and my plot, but after a while, I found that I missed writing cheesy, albeit cliché tales about my favorite hero and heroine. So I'm back!

For all those who don't know me and had absolutely no clue that was missing, well, nice to meet ya! *waves* Go ahead and disregard that long spiel at the top.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

Prologue

"What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal." ~Albert Pine

I didn't think about my mother, about her devastation when she was informed that her only son had passed away, about her internal struggle with anger and pride when she found out how I went, about how in the blink of an eye she lost the only family she'd ever known.

I didn't think about the consequences. Blistering pain never even crossed my mind, the bone-shattering impact a faraway fact that cached itself within the inner-workings of my mind, revealing itself only when my body absorbed the blow that stole my breath...and the beating of my heart.

I only thought about the girl, with blond tendrils as radiant as the sun and eyes of liquid silver. Ear buds in her ears and tears trickling from her sad, gray eyes, she was oblivious: to the boisterous pedestrians, to the bustling city alive with glittering lights and gargantuan skyscrapers, to the world. She didn't hear the screeching of brakes as the driver stomped the pedal all the way to the floor, she didn't hear the blare of a honking horn, and she didn't see the semi as it barreled towards her at speeds that no human being could possibly survive. She swiped profusely at her tears, obscuring her sight and her only chance at postponing the headstone that would one day be engraved with her name.

Tomorrow would be that day-the day that stone would be carved and the first day the world would see without her. At least, it would have been...

...before I dove in front of the hulking two tons of steel that would have taken her life. Before I dug my grave and dove straight into it. Before I saved Annabeth Chase.

People will call me stupid, a foolish boy who'd set out to be the hero, while others will praise the lord that selfless young men and women roamed this earth, that not everyone was a self-serving monster. But either way, no matter what people said and thought about what I'd done, I would have done it again in a heartbeat. Because unlike them, I knew Annabeth Chase.

Not well, I might add, but I knew her nonetheless.

Having gone to school with her, I knew she was brilliant beyond her seventeen years and that she held a deep love for architecture. Structures, designs, along with a burning desire to build something permanent were woven into her heart and powered her mind. She had a bright future: scholarships swarming her left and right, loving parents who provided nothing but complete and total support, friends that would have leapt face-first off a cliff if it benefitted her in any way. She was a gorgeous person, inside and out. But having gone to school with her, I also knew what had diminished her bright, blistering hopefire into little more than dwindling embers.

One year ago, Annabeth had gotten into a car accident. Like most teens who'd recently received their license, she'd wanted to drive absolutely anywhere and everywhere. Her mother, Athena, had allowed Annabeth to drive her to the airport for one of her book signings, as Athena was not only a famous architect but a best-selling novelist as well. A drunk driver had drifted into their lane, and to avoid a head-on collision with the yellow Hummer that towered over her Prius, Annabeth had swerved, narrowly missing the speeding bullet; but ramming straight into the massive oak tree looming alongside the road. Athena Chase had died on impact while Annabeth had suffered only minor injuries.

Annabeth blamed herself: for not spotting the car sooner, for not jerking the wheel in the direction opposite the oak, for not fixing the airbag that could have saved her mother's life...

She spiraled into an unrelenting state of despair. No longer did she possess the will, the drive, to wake up every morning and be the best she could possibly be. Her grades slipped, her future was forgotten, but it wasn't until her father remarried that the severity of her deterioration became prominent.

Fredrick Chase married Helen Croft only two months after his wife's funeral, claiming that he needed to move on. Truth was, he didn't want to move on; he wanted to forget. Pretend that the love of his life was not the one dead and buried six feet under but the one who stood before him, alive and breathing. He shredded every morsel of a memory of Athena. Photos? Gone. Clothes? Gone. In the parts of his home where memories blossomed and their relationship grew, he remodeled, demolishing the building blocks which led to the love that was once shared and reducing it to ashes. When the only remnants were the ones that lurked in the shadows of his mind, he delved into substance abuse, guzzling booze like it was going out of style.

A dead mother, a drunk for a father, and piles upon piles of guilt stacked atop her shoulders. At the time, I didn't see how it could get any worse, how her life could get anymore twisted than it already was, but that was before I learned the truth. About her father. Her stepmother. About her.

But despite what people may think, pity was not the reason I tackled her out of the way and helped her cheat Death for the second time. Saving a life was not something I'd done out of pity, not something I'd done because I believed that doing so would cancel out all the bad acts from the past, but because she'd been through so much as it was without adding a short life to the mix. Guilt weighed her down, coercing her to believe that she didn't deserve to live. I'd saved her life because in the end, I knew she wouldn't.

Deep in my heart, I knew it was true. She wouldn't have jumped out of the way if the headphones were gone and the tears dried. I'd only talked to her a handful of times, and yet one conversation proved what I already knew.

"Why do you drink so much?" I asked, internally cringing as she chugged her second bottle of vodka. Never being a huge fan of alcohol, I tended to shy away from any social event that smuggled alcoholic beverages of any kind. As this was the biggest party of junior year, my friends, Nico and Thalia, dragged me along for the ride. Sadly, I couldn't talk myself out of going.

Annabeth smirked, licking the remaining droplets from her lips, before setting the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch on which we sat. "Percy," she began, elbows on her knees, chin resting on her fists. "You drink because it's fun. Because inhibitions are lowered, and you can just let yourself go. Next morning, you can do it all over again when you wake up. That's why you drink." She grabbed her bottle by the neck and took a sip. It was impossible to assume that this was new to her, as she didn't even gasp or sputter as the liquid fire scorched her throat.

I opened my mouth to tell her that that was exactly why I didn't drink, but she cut me off before I could speak.

"I drink because when that next morning rolls around, I don't want to wake up."

Well, there it is, the first chapter of my new story. Heavy stuff, I know, but don't worry, Percy will fix right up! ;) Anyways, sorry once again for dropping off the face of the earth.

Don't forget to review and let me know what you think! Should I continue? Yes? No? Let me know!

~TwistedTrident~