Hey Thalia

Disclaimer: I do not own the PJ series by Rick Riodan. Nor do I own the song, "Hey Montana" by Eve 6, which this chapter is based off of.

Thalia's POV

"I hate you! I'm so sick of it here!" I scream at my mother.

"Well, if you're so sick of it, why don't you just leave?!" she yells back.

"I'll do just that!" I yell, stomping up to my room.

I grab my duffle bag and start stuffing clothes into it. I hear footsteps coming up the old, creaky stairs. There's a knock on my door but I don't answer.

It creaks open and my mother is standing there, a sad look on her face. Her light blue eyes look moist and her bottom lip was trebling slightly.

"Please, Thalia. Don't go." she says, her eyes pleading.

"No, I've made up my mind." I say, pushing past her and walking down the stairs.

I hear her rushing down the stairs and after me. I push open the latch-screen door and start walking to my black and white 1965 Mustang.

I yank open the door and throw my duffle onto the passenger seat. I slink into the driver's seat then slam the door shut.

My mother hurries outside and towards my car. I start it and the engine roars to life. She runs up and slams her hands on the hood.

The look she was giving me clearly said, "If you leave, you never come back here."

We stare at each other for a second then I put the car in reverse and start backing out of the driveway, leaving her staring after me, a bewildered look upon her face.

I had made up my mind

"Ma'am. Ma'am." someone says, snapping their fingers in front of my face.

"Oh, my apologies. Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" I ask, trying to be as sweet as possible. The last thing I needed was to be fired because I had been spacing out.

"Yea. A Bud Light if you would, sweet cheeks." the customer says.

I grind my teeth and get the sleazy man's beer. I hated working at this damn bar. I hated it with a passion. Sometimes I wish I had never left my mother and our small farmhouse. Sometimes I just wish I could go back and pretend like nothing ever happened, like I never left.

"Here you go, sir." I say, sliding the beer bottle across the counter and to the man.

"Say, what's your name?" he asks, taking a swig of his drink.

"Thalia." I say.

"No it ain't! It's Halia!" he says, hooting with laughter.

The stupid manager had typed my name in wrong while ordering my nametag and it came out "Halia" instead of "Thalia". I still don't see how he managed to do that, considering all the times you're required to make sure it's spelled correctly. But he refused to order another one, no matter how many times I begged.

I walk out from behind the bar and over to one of the tables I was serving. There was a younger man sitting there, possibly twenty-one or twenty-two.

His hair was a mess of black shagginess and his skin was as pale as milk. When he looked up at me, I was saw his lips were bow shaped and his eyes were a dark brow, almost black.

"What can I get you, sir?" I ask.

"Ah, lime vodka." he says.

"I'll be right back with that." I say, turning back towards the bar to get the guy's drink.

"Hey! Sweet cheeks! Can I get another beer?" the man sitting at the bar calls at me.

"Just a minute, sir." I say, mixing up the vodka.

I quickly take the glass to the guy at the table and then hurry back to the bar.

On my way there, I trip over the rug. This resulted in me tumbling all over the place and knocking over three bottles of beer while trying to grab the edge of the counter. There were several angry shouts and hollers.

I feel a pair of hands grab mine and pull me up off the ground. Standing there was the young man who had ordered the lime vodka.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his dark eyes.

"Fine." I say, looking down out of embarrassment.

I turn my back on him and head towards the back of the bar to the bathroom.

I close the door behind me and take a deep breath, trying not to choke on the putrid air. My hands were shaking and I felt my eyes prick with tears.

I angrily wipe at my eyes, refusing to cry. This was not going to happen. Not here, not now.

I drag my feet up the stairs to my apartment. It was almost one o'clock in the morning as I fumble with my keys, trying to get them in the lock. I open the door and flip on the light switch, tossing my bag onto the table and kicking off my shoes. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I quickly change out of my skanky work clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and into my pajamas, not even bothering to take a shower. I crawl into my bed and almost instantly fall asleep.

Dragging myself out of bed in the morning, now that was a challenge. I finally manage it though. I go over to the refrigerator and open it up. There was only a couple bottles of water and a cup of yogurt, way past it's expiration date. I sigh, my stomach turning at the thought of eating anything.

I walk over to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I was much paler than I had been when I had moved to this town. I lift my shirt up slightly and look at my abdomen. I could see my ribs quite easily.

I didn't want to look like this. I hated looking like this. I wish I could stomach some food but any time I tried eating, it just came right back up.

I write to my mother every day. I never send the letters though. I keep them in a drawer. They're all there, ready to be mailed. I just can't make myself send them.

I sigh and look at the empty piece of notebook paper sitting in front of me. I pick up my pen and begin writing.

"Dear mom,

I can't remember how long it's been since I left. I miss everything about home. I wish I had never left you. I don't know what had been running through that stupid head of mine. I just wish I could see you, talk to you, hug you.

My job bombs, as usual. What else is new? My eating habits have gotten worse. It's been days since I've eaten anything. I hate getting sick. I might just end this all soon…

Love,

Thalia"

And that was that. I set down the pen and fold up the letter, placing it in an envelope and sealing it up. I stamp it and then write her address on it and then the return address. Who knew, maybe I would send them someday.

I hold the pristine letter in my hands, staring down at it. A single teardrop hits the paper and splatters across it.

I look at the stack of letters tied together. All numbered, first to last. One hundred and fifty all together. It amazed me that I had been gone for five months.

I hesitate before walking into the post office. I wait in line until they call me up to the counter.

I hoped she would read them. I hoped she would read every single one of them and know that I never meant the things I had said. I never hated her and never would. I loved her and wished I could see her again.

I stare at the knife in my hand. I was in the bathroom at work again. I figured the best place to do this would be here. Someone would find me and I wouldn't just be left to rot in my apartment.

It was unusually quiet in the bar. The TVs had not yet been turned on and the music was down low.

I take a deep breath then do it, slicing vertically up my forearms. The weird thing is, it doesn't really hurt. I feel the warmth of my blood on my hands and I hear it dripping onto the dirty floor.

I feel lightheaded and I collapse, hitting my head against the door in the process.

I hear someone knock on the door, soft at first then harder as they see the blood seeping out from under the door.

It was gushing out now. My vision was blurry and it was hard to hear. I felt like I couldn't move my limbs at all. Everything was paralyzed.

I'm vaguely aware of the door banging open. I see someone with black hair and pale skin lean over me. It was the guy who had ordered the lime vodka yesterday.

"It's going to be okay. Help is on the way." he says.

"No." I whisper.

"What?" he asks, leaning closer to me.

"No. I don't...Want help." I gasp, finding it hard to breathe now.

"Well, what do you want?" he asks.

"What's your name?" I ask, with some difficulty.

"Nico." he says. The question seemed to have caught him off-guard.

"Nico. I like that name. I'm Thalia." I say, smiling and closing my eyes. Then, everything goes dark and I don't see or feel anything else.

A/N:

Quite sad. I might make this a three-shot later on but I'm not really sure. If I do, it will be a little while before I post it because I'm working on some other stories at the moment.

XOXO,

Mrs-diAngelo25