My Days are Limited

A Percy Jackson & the Olympians Fanfic.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the Percy Jackson series! Rick Riordan does! I am just a fan who suddenly though of this idea and wanted to use these characters for my own entertainment.

AH and AU Rated T for teens and angst/comedy/romance. M for later contents perhaps. Luke & Thalia. (Maybe a bit of Percy & Annabeth)

Author's Note: Hi! this is my first story and first Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I hope you like it because it will determine how far I will write this story. Please if there are any grammatical errors or complaints (i hope not..), you know where to write. But I hope you all won't be too harsh on me for I am just a beginner at this... = Anyways please! enjoy =) I hope you all rate and review And I hope i don't suck that much...

Summary: I never knew it would hurt this much. Looking from afar and just being reminded of all the things we have been through… Who knew that life would lead you to where you are now.

Chapter 1

Black. It was pitch black that surrounded me. Not my family nor my friends; not even the nurses. Instead, it was darkness that engulfed me. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't move. 'No. I just didn't want to.' I just stayed still on my hospital bed, allowing myself to get lost in my thoughts. I was afraid that if I moved a single finger, I'd be back to that dreaded room; getting ready to be sliced open like a lab rat once again. I hated it. I hated it all.

I just looked up at the ceiling, waiting for my eyes to fall asleep, but it was not working. Nothing was working. Not even the morphine worked. I, Thalia Grace, was afraid. A girl who took everything for granted had an uncertain future. It was laughable how life turns your world upside down. One day, your outside in the sunlight laughing with your friends, next thing you know, you're lying on a hospital bed with stitches on your leg.

When I had met the doctor for a checkup, none of my family knew the total "Bull run" we were about to go to. First I was told that it would only be a minor surgery and that I would heal within a few weeks. And then, a few months later, I was told that I needed another one; and then another, till I had a total of four surgeries by the time I was supposed to be in university.

My parents, although they cared, never understood my feelings; they never understood my desperation for all this to be over. Not even my friends completely understood. They always told me I would get better but I knew they were lying. A lie that was supposed to make me happier did the opposite. Truth be told, I never sounded this depressing before. In fact, I was an optimistic girl. A girl who was, sad to say, ignorant, to the world around her. It was those surgeries that changed her. I became more pessimistic, angry at the world, and on several occasions, depressed to the point of feeling numb. Such lies won't help me get better; they never made me stronger either.

I was lost in the world of the living. The world that can smile so happily without worrying if they're putting too much pressure or if they are standing the right way without straining the surgical wound. My mentality changed and I was just a lost little girl. A girl who always seemed lost in a series of labyrinths.

"I can't take it anymore," finally getting the courage to move, I sat straight up and carefully turned my body to my right. I took the crutches that leaned against the chair near my bed and walked out of the door. This section of the hospital was quiet. No nurses or staff members were around to see me sneak out of my room.

Limping with my left foot to nowhere, I passed by several dark rooms. The only thing that lit my way was the hallway lights. I didn't care where I was going so I just went through several doors, took several turns, a few more doors once again, the stairs, and somehow opened a door to find myself on the roof of the hospital.

"What the hell?" I whispered.

Looking around the scenery, it was dark with only the moonlight's radiance to light everything around me. The night sky had thousands of stars dancing tonight. The clouds surrounded the moonlight as though it needed shelter. The cold air playing with my hair sent shivers down my spine. And the city lights, although they were bright tonight, were anything but comparable to the moon's brilliance.

Taking a step forward, I allowed my "available" foot to get the feeling of the ground. The small rocks dug into my skin as I pressed it to the ground. I began to move forward to the edge, knowing that my fear of heights is beginning to kick in. The sickening sensation of vertigo, the knots in my stomach, and of course, my trembling hands became a bother as I got closer and closer to the edge.

As I arrived to the edge, I took my chance to look at the ground. For some odd reason, I found the ground mesmerizing; as though it was pulling me in. The people on the ground looked like ants. They had their own little shadows and their own lives to live. They had their own problems of course, but at least, their problems were not "out of the ordinary". It's sad to think that I envied these people already. These strangers were the ones that I wanted to be; 'to be normal.' I suddenly had the urge to fall off. I had the sudden urge to end it all. I had the sudden urge to float to my demise. I wanted it to e—.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" said an unfamiliar, playful voice.