Author's Note: This story is rathe M because of (hopefully) graphic torture scenes and child abuse. This story is set in a mortal world, so no Gods. I don't have a paring as of yet, and I'm not sure that I will include one. This is my first Fanfic, NO FLAMES I don't own Percy Jackson or anything affiliated with the franchise. I also don't own any of the songs used in this story. So, like I said, I own NOTHING!
"Come here you little bitch! I thought I fuckin' told you to be home by Five O fucking Clock!" A rather largely built man stumbled throughout a dimly lit, two bedroom apartment building. He was rather rotund, with his beer gut filling his bloody, beer stained wife beater. He adorned a ripped, similarly stained pair of jean shorts, crew cut, dirty, Fruit of the Loom socks, and a pair of steel toe leather workman boots. In his mouth sat a large cigar. He held a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in his left hand, and in his right, hung a bloody, well-worn leather belt with a large spiked buckle on the end. He was shuffling throughout the small apartment, slowly closing in on his target. The small room at the end of the hall.
In the room down the hall, huddled as far away from the door as possible, sat a child. He was frighteningly skinny, and horrendously scarred. He had his knees pulled into his chest, and was shivering. The stars and the moon filtered through the steel-barred windows of the room. He could hear the heavy steps of his stepfather shuffling closer. There was the occasional thud, followed by a string of curses, a pause, and then more shuffling. The rattle of empty beer bottles complimented the shuffling. The boy stared at the door, face wrought with fear. The door slammed open, and in stepped Gabe Ugliano.
"There you are you little Fucker!" Screamed Gabe as he threw the boy across the room into the wall. He hit the wall with a sickening crack, but didn't say anything. No screams of pain, not even a whimper. This only seemed to aggravate The troll of a man. the man raised the spiked belt, and swung down. The belt whipped across the frail boy's body, instantly drawing blood. Gabe continued to wail on the poor, defenceless boy, who had yet to emit any sort of verbal recognition. after an hour of constant whipping, Gabe abandoned the belt. With a swig from the half-drained bottle of whiskey, The man kicked the boy in the ribs, flipping him onto his bleeding back. Quickly drawing a switchblade from his back pocket, Gabe began to slowly drag it across the boys chest, leaving thin trails of blood behind. After another thirty minutes of this, Gabe stood. With surprising speed for a man of his size, Gabe stood and swung the now empty bottle of whiskey across the boys shoulders, sending shards of glass into his face and onto the floor. lifting the boy by his untamed black hair, Gabe shoved him unto the glass coated floor. The boy landed on his side, still in verbal silence. Gabe, after two hours of beating, slowly removed his half dead cigar, and shoved it into the boy's hip. Smoke rose from the boy's skin, but he still sat in silence. When the cigar stopped smoking, Gabe stood and shuffled away, leaving the profusely bleeding boy in darkness once again.