I was re-reading 28 days, 13 hours and 45 minutes and I noticed I'd missed something out in Life After Death and Do Dreams Ever Really Come True? so that is the origin of this.

They always say that darkness is your best friend; that things are more intimate in the dark. Well, it may have once been but I ain't so sure anymore. I just want...I don't know what I want. Part of me wants Luke, another part wants Matt and a third parts just wants to curl up in a corner and die.

Matt's my boyfriend. I met him at Starbucks.

I swear Starbucks is trying to take over the world one coffee shop at a time. There's even a few on Mount Olympus; just don't give them to the Gods. Just don't. Maybe there's a nine-headed hydra behind it all but then someone must really, really want to kill and be really, really stupid not to realise to set it on fire. Still, I needed a coffee. Not one of those decaf one's mind you, it had to be one of those extra strong with a double shot of caffeine ones. I only had decaf back at the apartment. Hence my need (craving) for Starbucks. Who cares if they are taking over the world faster than Kronus ever did; they do a decent coffee.

I'd just moved to New York from Canada and, well, to say the apartment was a mess is a total understatement. A more accurate description is that a hydra (maybe the one behind Starbucks- you never know) had broken in and ripped through everything. On top of that, I hadn't been sleeping well and basically throw in a few other things and I really needed a strong coffee.

Matt was already there when I arrived, at one of the table pressed up against the windows. He has one of those faces that's remarkably unmemorable but with that windswept brown hair you couldn't really see it anyway. I honestly didn't notice him until I literally walked into him on the way out. I kinda mumbled an apology before looking up. Mistake one. I looked up into eyes I didn't expect to see. Eyes that were the exact same colour as the coffee in my cup. So bright and so big and I don't why but I...I blushed. I haven't blushed since I was a teenager. I swear I haven't...but this guy...

Mistake two was letting him give me his number. I had this like tiny coffee splash on my shirt and I honestly didn't care but he just insisted on paying for cleaning costs or something but I just honestly didn't care. I just wanted to curl up on the couch with a coffee in my mess of an apartment. So I just let him.

Mistake three was actually calling him. I wasn't sure what I was thinking. I mean, I'd met this guy once, we'd barely spoke. I didn't even know his name, but...I just kept seeing him around. Starbucks, Subway, random cafes, it was like he was stalking me. So I called him. And things got real. Fast.

I'd been single since Luke...died eighteen months back. I don't know why that's so hard to think, let alone say. Yes, I was- and still- depressed but I'm not longer anorexic but I could relapse at any time. I'd stopped cutting myself after my knife disappeared. My dad didn't know about and I didn't want to steal one from him in cause he noticed.

Luke threw me over the metaphorical edge...and I hate him. You heard me Castellan. I. Hate. You. You ruined my life and I have nothing left. I wish I'd never met you.

What the Hades am I saying?! You were the best thing that ever happened to me. How could I say I hate you?

It's curled up in Matt's arms at two A.M that my mind goes through the conflicts. I can't sleep. The pills aren't working tonight and I honestly don't care. I've just got too much to think about at the moment that I just don't care about anymore but can't help but think about.

I close my eyes with a sigh and rest my head against Matt's chest. He fell asleep hours ago and I've just been lying here in silence since then. There's the occasional siren from outside but other than that nothing. Just...why me? Why does it have to be always me? I've never felt like I've belonged, never felt appreciated. Why do I have to have the crappy childhood and life? Can't it happen to someone else for a change?

I've got lucky with Matt. I'm so sure I have. He's just so normal. He's great. He really is. But he'll never be the guy I grew up with, fought monsters with, shared my dreams with or be the guy I truly gave my heart to. He'll never be Luke. But I don't want him to be. I don't want him to have anything to do with what happened before I went back to Canada. He's mortal; knows nothing of the Gods, knows nothing about who I am. Sometimes I wish he did. Sometimes I wish I was like him- mortal. My life has and always will be arranged by the Gods. What is it with Gods and using half-blood's as pawns? Atlanta, stop it. Being bitter about it won't help. You'll end up like him.

I really like Matt. Not just because he's a normal mortal (maybe a bit of a geek). He's just so different from anyone else I've dated before. He's twenty-four, a little under six foot and skinny. He's not muscular and he's self-conscious when his shirt's off. He has an obsession with comic books whilst being a medical student. Nothing like Luke, Alex or any guy at camp. And I like it.

I'm not sure why or how but I've made my way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, gripping the basin so tight my knuckles have turned white. There's nothing much here. Just the basics for him, I don't even have my own stuff here. It's Matt's place. I'm just a hanger-on, couch surfer. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a whore. Matt's my first boyfriend in a long time. I don't make it a habit of jumping into people's beds. I haven't even gone that far with him yet. I hate myself too much for that. I don't want to look at my reflection. I hate it. I hate myself.

I glance up and wish I hadn't. Tired, dark green eyes, inky heavy bangs underneath. I know the green's an illusion. They're silver. It's a long story. Another part of my past I don't want to go into. I wish they were still green. My lank, lifeless red hair falls around my face and I'm so pale there's no way to hide my freckles. A single solid piece of metal juts out of my eyebrow either side. Damn you Thalia. It looks crap.

I look like death. Why would anyone want me? I'm a mess. And- And-

And it's your fault. You, standing there...behind me. Trademark smirk plastered on your painfully handsome face that I so want to drive my fist into. Your scar makes you look evil, which is ironic since you are. Just don't you dare touch me. Ever again. Maybe we had something once. But not anymore.

Atlanta.

I shudder. I close my eyes. It's no use. You're still there.

I need you Hunter.

A single tear slips from my eye. Why did it have to be you?

You need me Hunter. You are nothing without me.

I want to scream. My voice is just a whisper. "Leave me alone."

Help me.

I swear I'm going to break something in a minute.

I will never leave you alone again. You can never escape me.

And I do. All I can see is red. Red of the blood you've spilled. Red of the anger you influenced. Red of the glint in your eye. I don't think. I just feel. "Leave. Me. Alone!" I drive the side of my fist right where your reflection should be. The mirror shatters into a million tiny diamonds, tiny shards flying through the air. I don't hear anything but I know that you are gone. But then again, you never were.

You're in my head; and I'm trapped there with you.

"Atlanta?" I look up. I don't know how I'm still standing. It's so quiet in the aftermath. Deafening silence. Even outside it's silent. Silent apart from the crunch crunch of Matt's feet on broken gems and the drip drip of my blood on the floor. I'm shaking. I want to go over and collapse crying into his arms but I can't bring myself to. My hand is virtually covered in crimson fluid by now, silver shards decorating my fist. "What happened?" I can't answer. I stumble out a few meaningless words before breaking down.

I can't take this anymore. It's too much. The late nights, hallucinations, blood loss and utter despair; it's finally got to me. Why am I still here? I don't care what you said! I don't want this anymore! And it's all...you. Everything you ever did led me to this.

But it's my fault as well...

Realization dawns and I start to feel faint. The world starts to spin and the only thing I can focus on is Matt's face. I stumble out his name and, before I know it, I'm on my knees in his arms.

"What the hell did you do that for?" It's not said in a way that's he's angry. I don't think I've ever seen him angry. It's not him.

I don't trust myself to speak. I just shake my head; whether that's an answer or dejection I'm unsure. Matt tilts my head up and I force myself to meet his coffee gaze. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, Atlanta?" I can't keep it any longer. My head droops but his hand remains on my cheek. I wish I could drop everything on to him, make him understand because that's who I need. Someone who understands.

"Okay then." He moves to stand and I can't help but look up. He really comes into his own around blood. Too bad it has to be mine.

Matt reaches behind him and pulls a towel off the rack before handing it to me. "Try to stop the blood with that," he says with his sympathetic coffee gaze. I look back down and wrap the cream cloth around my right hand, wincing when it catches on the shards. He walks out and returns soon with a deep green satchel. The shattering jewels bring my attention up. Matt crouches down in front of me and kisses my forehead whilst slipping my hair behind my ear. Why couldn't you have done that? Soothed away my fears and pains? Why weren't you there for me?

Why wasn't I there for you?

Matt's said something and I've missed it. I give no reaction and he pulls away the blood soaked material while he mumbles to himself. Cold, hard metal against my heated flesh causes goose bumps to break out over my arms; my new phoenix tattoo distorted on my upper arm, the scar's it's hiding partially revealed.

Piece after piece of silver is removed; more sanguine liquid taking's its place. As the last piece is dropped, the soaked material is replaced and the chill recedes. Matt speaks again but again I miss it. He pulls me closer for a moment before I'm released.

"I'm really sorry Atlanta, but this is probably going to hurt."

"Like it hasn't already," I mumble. There's an awkward silence as I look away. He takes my hand in his and the action orders that I look at him.

"Atlanta." The way he says my name like that, I have to resist the urge to fling my arms around him and cry until there is nothing left. "You've got to tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

"You wouldn't understand," again I mumble.

"Why not?" I don't answer. I don't even answer or even mumble when he sticks the needle in my hand. I hiss initially but remain silent and still the subsequent times. I wince as pulls on the thread one last time before the snip of the scissors slice through the silence. As Matt's stands and washes his hands before putting his stuff back in his work bag, I take a glance at my hand. I don't think it even looks like my hand anymore. Mangled and raw flesh pinches together with coal tinted wire.

I close my eyes and welcome the darkness it brings. Yes, darkness truly is the best friend; my only friend. Things are more intimate in the dark.

This is all your fault. You never did anything for me but lead me to this...this...this shell. I was someone before I met you but now I'm nothing. I hope I never see your face again. I hope I never hear your bloody name again Castellan.

What the Hades am I saying?! I-I love you Luke. Please come back...Please don't leave me...