"Dad, you have to move. Dad!"

He didn't move. He never does what I say, even though he knows I'm his only chance of surviving. I pulled him over my shoulder and dragged him into his bedroom at the far end of the house.

"I'll be right back, okay? Just stay here and get ready to run." I could see his eyes light up in response. I guess the whiskey was finally wearing off.

"Go Skye," he said, "I'll be fine, I'll be right here waiting for you." His eyes looked scared.

Mine looked pissed.

This was the fourth attack in the last three weeks. That's a lot more than usual. Don't get me wrong, I've had enough monster attacks to last a lifetime, but the older I get, the more mad I become at the road my life has taken.

See, I'm sixteen. I know all about the monsters, the gods, and the heroes, but I'm not allowed to be a hero. I shouldn't even be alive.

I ran into the living room, where the front door was being beaten in by what looked like hell hounds. I could deal with hell hounds. I grabbed my eighteen-inch celestial bronze knife out of the side pocket in my boot and waited in the shadows for the door to break.

All at once two hell hounds ripped through the apartment. The first one was easy. I jumped as high as I could onto its back, sending my knife into the eye and sending it back to Tartarus.

I didn't even think about fighting anymore. It just came naturally. The second one pounced on top of me, pinning my torso to the floor. Before his head could even come close to mine, my knife was in his stomach.

I watched as the second monster turned to dust.

I ran back to my father; I had to get him out of here. From experience, I knew more would always come.

"Daddy they're gone."

"My brave daughter, I didn't have a doubt in the world." He looked more awake now, but the energy it was costing him to sit up at this moment was obvious.

"We need to move. I'll get the car and pull around back. Meet me there in ten minutes, and leave the alcohol behind." I didn't wait for his response as I ran back down the stairs.

As we drove away from our temporary home, I pondered my options while he slept off his hangover. I had to find a way to keep him safe. If this kept going on, one of us was going to end up killed.

I started to drive with a destination: Florida. My grandparents lived in Florida. I shook my dad awake.

"We need to talk, and I need you to be fully focused on what I am about to say." I knew I had his attention. After a monster attack, we usually tried to be optimistic; we never spoke of our bad fortune.

"I'm taking you to Florida." He knew where. "We can't keep doing this. If there was another hell hound at that apartment, it would have killed me, and then it would have sniffed you out and killed you as well."

"Skye…" It was a warning voice.

"You don't have a say in this matter, Dad. I love you more than anything in the world, including myself. You're my best friend, my only friend, but I'm not strong enough to protect you, just like I wasn't strong enough to protect them." I could see his flinch, but I had to keep going.

"You need a fresh start, away from monsters and therefore away from me. I want you to live a full enough life for the both of us. I want you to get remarried, have other children, grow old and stay in one house longer than a month."

"Skye, you're all I have left. I don't want life any other way. You're my daughter."

"And you're my father, my mortal father." I pleaded with his eyes. "I promise I will keep in touch. I'll Iris Message you when its safe, and I'll visit on holidays."

"Will you be safer without me?" It looked as if it pained him to say these words. I knew it always bothered him that I looked after him instead of the other way around.

"Yes." If he thought I would be safer, he would be more cooperative. He wouldn't go through with this if he thought I was doing this for his benefit.

"If this doesn't work out, will you come back to me?"

"I'll always come back to you, Dad," I said.

He took my hand, letting me know that he would finally take my advice and do as I instructed.

After I dropped him off and drove away, I cried. I cried for my lost family, my addicted father, and I have to admit, I cried for myself.

Life isn't always better at the hearth. Being a daughter of Hestia, I know all about that.