(Percy POV)
What do you call it? That time where everything you know falls apart? What is that called, simply the collapse of the soul, or more?
My name is Percy Jackson. I think. My stepfather mostly calls me "freak". I don't know what my mom's like; she died years ago in one of his drunken stupors. I seem to be about to join her. Maybe they'll convict him this time.
I wouldn't call my life hard. Not necessarily. It's unfair, more than anything. I don't know what I did to deserve this. What could a 13 year old possibly do to deserve to be beaten into unconsciousness, to have people hate me before meeting me because all I am, all I will ever be to them is a Freak.
Weird things happen around me, like my favorite book character. Harry Potter is my favorite, I guess, because he's a lot like me. Drew a short straw, orphaned, and left with powers that make his stepfamily hate him. The only difference is that he got out. I seem to be destined to die with my own knives buried in my chest by my stepfather, Gabe. Life can be hellish sometimes.
(Phobos POV)
"Hey, bro," I said.
He grunted in response, more than he usually does, I guess.
"Do you feel the fear of a kid right now?"
"You seem to forget," my brother, Demios, said, "that I am mass panic, not simply fear."
"Let's go check it out," I said, ignoring his slight barb.
He grunted and followed me as I walked into the nearest building.
(Percy POV)
I was cowering in the corner as Gabe searched for me. I knew I shouldn't have gotten The Shining for him. He would have beat me, but he wouldn't be stalking me through the house, cackling about Johnny, and shotguns.
I felt a sudden impact of pure fear, and all of a sudden the door blasted inwards. The air seemed to be filled with smoke. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I collapsed as a figure that I could only describe as the physical form of pure terror burst from the fog, grabbing Gabe by the leg, and dragging him away from where he was going to jump me in my hiding spot. After that, everything went black.
I woke up to the sound of hushed arguments. I couldn't pick out any words in particular, but I could tell it was an argument by the speed and pitch they were talking in. I know arguments well.
I walked in and saw two boys a few years older than me sitting around a table. One was skinny and tall, but had a lot of muscles. The other was shorter, but much stronger looking. I felt a jab of irrational fear looking at them.
When they heard the door opening, they stopped arguing and looked at me. The skinnier one cleared his throat.
"You OK, kid?" he said uncomfortably.
"Yeah." I said, "what happened?"
They looked at each other, and then back at me.
"What do you know about Greek Mythology?" asked the smaller one roughly.
I stared at him, not understanding at all.
"There's our answer. You are the son of a god or goddess. Judging by what I saw of your stepfather, I'd say god because your mother is dead."
"Wait, my dad is God? I'm an atheist." I said, confused.
"No. Not God, capital g, singular. Gods, multiple. We're gods, too. Phobos and Demios, sons of Ares, gods of fear and terror, respectively."
"What are you going to do to me?"
'We're going to take you to the boss." Said Demios, the shorter one, smiling for the first time. I didn't like that smile.
A/N: Hey, guys. I started writing this because I needed a break from my parody story, My Mortal. Writing that is hell. Review, like, follow, just read, whatever you like. Feel free to message me with anything, uhhm… yeah. That seems to be about it. Byyeeee!