Hi internet! This is a pretty emotional fic, my favourite kind of thing. Written for queen-sheep's The Letter Challenge, option 1.

Disclaimer: don't own pjo, never have, never will :(

Hope you guys enjoy,

A Total Waste of Paper.

A girl scratched ink into empty white.

Blue smudges blotted her fingers, and she hadn't even noticed the wet trials streaking down her face and dripping off her chin, blotching her otherwise neat cursive handwriting.

Raking back her frizzy blonde bangs, the girl gave a frustrated groan as she saw all the words melting on the page, drowning in spilt tears.

'What are you doing, Annabeth?' She hissed at herself through her teeth, toes curling in embarrassment at the thought of her father realizing she'd been crying.

For seemingly the hundredth time that evening, Annabeth Chase crushed the half-finished letter in her fist, furious at herself and all the words she couldn't seem to express properly.

She was a smart girl. Always had been. So why was she now having so much trouble putting words on paper?

'Annabeth? Are you in bed yet?'

'No, I'm not ready! Don't come in!' The seven year old tried to keep her voice even as tears of panic set her eyes on fire, 'Just give me five minutes.'

'It's nearly quarter to ten! It's too late for you to be up and you're keeping the twins awake with your bedroom light on. Stop being selfish and get into bed, Annabeth. Hurry up!'

Annabeth could practically hear the disapproving scowl in her stepmother's voice.

As she heard the she-devil's steps retreating, she ripped another page out of her diary, which was by now nearly empty. Most of it was crumpled in balls around the bin, thanks to her shocking aim and her inability to write the right words.

'Last one,' she breathed, swiping a tissue under her eyes to keep any further tears at bay, 'this will be the last one.'

Bottling up the swelling hysteria in her chest, Annabeth took a long, shaky breath before ink kissed the page.

To Mr. Frederick Chase,

I am so very tired.

I am tired of seeing things no one understands. When strange monsters come out of nowhere to get me, you and Susan get really angry at me, but I still don't get why. I'm not the monster. It's not my fault.

I am tired of the nightmares. I know you didn't believe me when I told you this before, but they come for me when I go to bed. It's true! Spiders crawl out of the dark and spin webs over my eyes, my mouth and in my hair. They are always gone by morning, but I know they are real. I scream for you to help me all night, but you never ever come.

I am tired of being alone. You don't have time for me, and time spent with Susan is time wasted. The twins are too young to play with, and they don't like me anyway. I look at the four of you and I see a family completed without me. I don't make you smile like Susan or the twins do, and I know that now. I've stopped trying.

Most of all, I'm just tired of being so very tired. I can't sleep at night while I still live in this house. A big, six bedroom house with no room for me. This isn't a home.

I would ask you not to come looking for me, and I'd ask you not to call the police, but I'm not worried. You wouldn't do those things anyway.

I realize you don't want me here, and I don't want to be here. So bye.

-Annabeth

She looked over what she'd written, unsatisfied.

She could imagine what a stranger would think if they read it: Oh dear, what a sad little girl.

Annabeth was not sad, nor was she little.

She was very much finished with doing silly things that only sad little girls did, like writing angry letters and bottling up tears.

She scrunched up the letter and all the whiny, dejected bitterness inside it, shoving it in among many other discarded letters with all the other trash.

Swinging the rucksack that she'd packed earlier over her shoulder, Annabeth silently opened the door and tip-toed downstairs, switching off her bedroom light as she did so.

Outside it was dark and dangerous, she knew. Quickly snatching up a knife from the kitchen, she gripped the handle tight, trusting that it would be enough.

She was careful not to wake anyone up, but the keys rattled quietly in her shaking hands as her navy-stained fingers fumbled them into the front-door lock.

She stepped out onto the welcome mat, shut the door with an almost silent thud and turned towards the starlit world in front of her.

Then she was free.

Running out into the dangerous dark, the little girl with the kitchen knife felt cold wind snatch up her blonde curls, whipping it back and stinging her eyes.

Her heels slapped against the concrete, pupils blown wide with shocked euphoria at the sudden liberty.

And she was gone.

My dear Annabeth,

I am beyond ecstatic that you finally tried to contact me after five years of not knowing where you were or why you'd left.

Remind me to thank that Percy boy who inspired you to do this, because I now owe him everything.

You'd be twelve by now, a young women! I've missed you more than you, for all your brilliance, will ever know.

I couldn't believe it when you left, sweetheart. I was horrified that I'd lost you, and I am so, so sorry for absolutely everything.

It was because you were just so much like you're mother, I suppose. Right down to the amazing big grey eyes, all bright and thoughtful. I never doubted you were half Goddess.

But that was what worried me, see. You, being part Goddess. How could a scatter-brain like me bring up a wise little warrior like you? Was I ever really worthy of that?

Your mother didn't need me, I realized. She was divine, immortal, beautiful, powerful and outstandingly clever. Much more clever than I was. I could never keep up with your mother, and I didn't think I could keep up with you either, darling.

But there were moments, I'm sure you remember.

When you hurt yourself I'd bandage you up, when you cried I held you, when you talked about a book you loved you'd smile for hours. Sweetheart, your smile was enchanting. These moments of vulnerability made me feel like maybe I was enough. As if I, a mere mortal man, could be a role-model to somebody as blessed as you.

Then you disappeared, and it was like your mother all over again, except you left nothing behind.

Not even a letter.

I know you didn't like Susan. She was as scared as I was when I told her.

You were such a strong little girl, Annabeth. A very spirited, smart, beautiful little girl and she and I were both a little lost on where to start. You were no ordinary child. You were a gift from the heavens, a blessing. I was such a loser. I had no clue what to do.

So I was an idiot. For all my degrees and years of schooling, I just couldn't express to you how much I needed you, how much I loved you, through my words.

I hope I can now.

Annabeth Chase, you are the love of my life, and I beg you to come back, if only for a little while, and give this family a second chance. Give me a second chance. Please.

You're not just a little girl anymore, I know that. You're a demigod, a warrior, a hero.

But it will always be the little things; your slightly pointed ears and your blonde tangles and your love for old classic war novels. It was the little things that made you not only my hero, but my gorgeous little girl, too.

Please, please, please come back, sweetheart.

-love from your sappy old dad.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I loved doing this challenge, and honestly I've wanted to write something like this for a really long time now.

I love daddy/daughter relationships. It's literally the sweetest thing. So maybe the super awesome, ultra-intelligent, and crazy independent Annabeth Chase can be a daddy's girl for a while…

Please leave a review if you'd like to, because I love knowing what you think :)