Warning: If you are not okay with blood, cutting, mental disorders, drug abuse, suicidal characters, character deaths then I would not advise reading this. Even if it is just lightly initiated. Please be aware that this is rated T/M, not just T.
CiNdEr: (inspired by horse-crazy girl13's Cinderella)
Summary: Just another Cinderella story...only with a dark twist. Where does a cutter find her Prince Charming? And where does a drug addict find his Princess? The answer is not a castle, but a mental hospital. "I want to be Cinderella, but how am I supposed to find my Prince Charming in a mental hospital? And what if he's insane?" Annabeth Chase's father remarried after her mother died from Cancer, adding a wicked Stepmother, and two cruel twins. Annabeth doesn't beileve in a fairy tale ending, especially with arms like hers. Can a green eyed drug addict prove to her that there's more to life than just pain? Or will Annabeth never become the Cinderella she wants to be since she was little? Rated T/M.
"A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."- Cinderella.
Annabeth's P.O.V:
Prologue:
Tears were shimmering in my eyes. A few over passing my restraint to keep them in, and cascading slowly down my pale cheeks.
He stared at me, his green eyes that I had became so acquainted to emotionless and steely. I know he doesn't want to see me, but I can't bring myself to leave.
"For once in my life," I began slowly, making sure I thought my words over before I spoke them. "I feel okay to be broken. Ever since I was little I never fit in anywhere. I was alone. I was broken. Then you had to come along. You. I could never ask you to fix me and I don't want to be fixed if it means losing you. I can't lose you, Percy. I don't care if this isn't real. I'd rather be with you than anyone else that is real. Percy- you- make me feel like it's okay to be broken."
For once a look of hope broke out across his expression, his green eyes lighting up from that dead color to an alive one. He approached me slowly and I smiled tentatively, wiping a few spare tears away. I could cry later.
"You make me feel okay to be broken," I repeated. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, his eyes studying mine carefully, his gaze lingering.
His eyes darkened. "Are you sure this is what you want? You want to be with me even after you discovered what I really am?"
I nodded, gripping his arms tightly. "I don't care about the rest of the world. I never cared about anyone-not really- since my mother died. But I care about you, Seaweed Brain. I love you." I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pressing my lips tightly against his.
He barely participated- completely shocked at my confession. It was a short, soft kiss, so unlike him. When he broke, his expression was of complete awe.
"You make me feel like it's okay to be broken."
Then, a smile etched across his face, although it was a sad one. "We can be broken together."
Of course, I didn't hear Percy Jackson's lifelong lesson yet. Because right now, I was in the car riding to the mental hospital, long before the thought of Percy even resurfaced in my mind once again.
"Take one down, pass it around, twenty bottles of milk on the wall."
It's...spinning. The world.
Going around and around, identical to clockwork, except the world doesn't make repeated ticking noises. Instead, the world makes different sounds. Different than the irritating sound of tick-tock, tick-tock.
It makes the sound of laughter. Parents chuckling, the high peals of children giggling and babies squealing with delight.
It makes the sound of freedom; trees rustling in the light breeze. Padding footsteps of children running throughout the world. Birds singing, their wings spreading apart and looking as free as the sun.
It makes the sound of pain, too.
The world makes the sound of my blood rolling off my once tan arms and dripping to the bathroom floor. It makes the sound of me seething with pain, clenching my teeth, digging my sharp fingernails into my palm so hard that it draws more of the scarlet liquid.
It makes the sound of various scars slashed around my arms, some long, some thin. Long, jagged lines, the handiwork of a razor blade.
Pain.
It's all I'll ever hear, all I'll ever be.
Living, breathing, pain, with the clock ticking in the background reminding me of how much time I have left.
The world may make many positive noises...
but all I hear is the blood and the pain.
My stepsisters continue to sing, "take one down, pass it around, nineteen bottles of milk on the wall."
"I'm truly sorry, Annabeth. But you've given me no other choice." I avert my gaze from my father, my grey eyes staring out the car window attentively. "Annabeth?" His voice cracks at the end, as I pointedly ignore him. My father. But, I guess he was never really my father was he? He was the male from which I was reproduced- but not a father. Not a dad. When I had I ever called him 'dad?' When had I ever called him 'pops' or 'daddy' or even 'father'? The answer is never. He will always just be Fredrick to me.
"Take one down, pass it around, eighteen bottles of milk on the wall." They were singing out of tune, but I was still too shell-shocked to correct them.
To tell the truth, I don't know why I'm being sent there.
It was just a recent phase, nothing more nothing less. There was nothing somewhat peculiar for Fredrick to find out. Perhaps it wasn't just a phase, but there was nothing more I could do about the matter.
"Take one down, pass it around, seventeen bottles of milk on the wall."
I'm almost positively sure that the she devil and Fredrick overreacted. O-V-E-R-R-E-A-C-T-E-D. Ha. I doubt they could even spell the world without having a hernia or their lack of knowledge cutting in and getting in the way. Call me disrespectful, but I really don't give a damn anymore. If I'm going here, I might as well write my will while I can, right?
I made a mental will in my mind, chuckling darkly underneath my breath as I finished ;absolutely nothing will be given to my father, Fredrick, nor to his wife Helen, except my insurance. Mattie and Barbara (my stepsisters) will under no circumstances be given anything that has ever belonged to me or ever will. All my belongings will go to Thalia Marie Grace, the only person who has been decent to me, in my entire shitty life.
I sighed, but the thought of Thalia brought a smile to my pale lips.
Thalia Grace, my spunky, punk, best friend. However, her permanent record is sure to say some worse things about her.
"Take one down, pass it around, sixteen bottles of milk on the wall."
My smile faded, my chapped lips pulling into a permanent straight line. What if I never got to see her again? She would visit me, right? Or would she think I was off my rocker and amongst those things and never want to socialize with me again?
I hadn't even got the chance to tell my best friend where I was going, let alone why.
A person like you doesn't deserve any friends.
My teeth grit together as Mattie's words came rushing back to my head. The twins may be arrogant and illogical, but they know how to make a person hurt. Mattie and Barbara were the ones who had gotten me sent to this nut house, along with their fiendish mother for backup. They're all witches. Evil, manipulative, witches who haven't got a shred of common decency in their entire polished, makeup covered bodies.
Mattie was becoming okay, though. If they hadn't discovered what I did, perhaps we would become friends. She had kept the secret for me, and even began to feel concern for me, an emotion that she surely never felt in her life.
"Take one down, pass it around, fifteen bottles of milk on the wall." I knew that Mattie and Barbara were only singing this to remind me that once all the bottles were passed around- we would arrive, and my life as sane Annabeth Chase, would be over.
If only they knew that my life was far from over.
They each sang in unison, their voices crackly and high pitched. Forget water torture, just have Mattie and Barbara sing for you. I wanted to clasp my hands over my ears, but that would only give them satisfaction, and disapproval from my parents.
Mattie sent me a side glance, and I nodded curtly; encouragingly.
We would never be friends. But we were allies. And I guess for right now that was enough.
"Take one down, pass it around, fourteen bottles of milk on the wall."
I stare out at the sun, which was slowly peaking itself over, surpassing the clouds that were trying to pin it down.
I suppose in this scenario I was the sun. And the rest of my family was the storm clouds that were slowly covering me, holding me back from shining upon the rest of the world.
"Take one down, pass it around, thirteen bottles of milk on the wall."
"Fredrick," Helen placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and I resisted the urge to snort. How sweet this scene was, if they didn't have a mental patient in the back seat. "This is for the best."
"You're right, dear," he said softly, but I could still see the pain behind his blue eyes. "How do you always know the right words to say to me?"
I heard Mattie and Barbara cooing and gushing from the row of seats in front of me, and this time I couldn't hold back my snort. I released it, only earning a cold look from Helen, whose wicked brown eyes highly resembled those of a snake.
Through they're gushing, they still managed to sing. "Take one down, pass it around, twelve bottles of milk on the wall."
"Now, Annabeth, dear-" ah, here comes her faux 'I'm the best stepmother in the world' facade. "It's only for the summer. I'm sure you'll miss all of us, but we'll visit as often as we can. Okay, sweetie?"
That was complete and utter bullshit. The smug looks from the terror twins said it all. Firstly, maybe Fredrick only thought I would be there for the summer, but I knew Helen had other plans. Excuses made up to keep me there longer- maybe for the rest of my days. I shuddered at the thought. And secondly, there would be no visitors. Maybe for the first week, Fredrick would visit- alone, of course. Then, he has fulfilled his duties as a father who has a nut job daughter, and wouldn't visit again.
I read on line that neglection was against the law, but what isn't against the law? Those were Thalia's words when I told her that drinking alcohol was a national offense when you're under age. She had waved it off, claiming the facts that 'what isn't against the law?'
"Take one down, pass it around, eleven bottles of milk on the wall."
I reached down in my jean pockets, pulling out my iPod, wondering whether or not if this classified as a 'sharp object.' It held all my favorite songs, one of my favorite things in the world. It was inanimate, but the songs and voices gave the vibe that it was humane.
Placing the owl designed buds in my ear, I leaned back against the car seat, feeling it vibrate from the heavy bumps on the road.
-and I'm not scared of your stolen power.
I see you right through you any hour.
I won't soothe your pain.
I won't ease your strength.
You'll be waiting in vain.
I got nothing for you to gain-
I shut my eyes tightly, finally feeling tears. The betrayal was too much to bear. How could my own flesh and blood do something like this to me?
How could they be so cold hearted? I never underestimated Helen's power, but I guess I underestimated the lengths that she would go to keep me under lock and key.
So I wonder how my family could send me here...
To an insane Asylum.
Even through the blaring sound of the music, I somehow hear there singing.
For the last time.
"Take one down, pass it around, one bottle of milk on the wall."
