He smelt like cigarettes, bad cologne and whisky.

Not that Annabeth had actually risked her sanity by putting herself close enough to the troubled boy to find out, but she imagined that's how he would smell. She imagined he was a great kisser as well, when he pulled a girl close and let his head fall to her neck. Annabeth was ashamed to admit she'd had such dreams often enough and as if to make matters worse, he wasn't even her kind of guy in the slightest. Annabeth, who'd grown up in a spacious, Victorian style home, worn pink skirts and cardigans, and was an active member at her neighbourhood bookclub was not supposed to be daydreaming about a very inked and a very bad boy.

He also rode a bike.

That fact within itself was enough to drive Annabeth wild. She just couldn't help hderself; what girl in her grade didn't have an enormous crush on the 16 year old. He wouldn't go after girls like Annabeth though, and at least she could admit it. Not that she was ugly, or vain but it just so happened that Annabeth had a very intimate relationship with facts; She was 14, she was blonde, she was five feet and seven inches tall and she had a nicely symmetrical face, which all young ladies of moderate intelligence knew was the basic foundation of attractiveness.

But damn she wasn't nearly like any of those girls he had been with. He got with girls like Drew Tanaka, and Reyna Bellona. Confident, gorgeous, sexy girls who barely even qualified as girls, teetering the line of women and what teenage boy didn't want a woman in his bed? Drew had long, black hair that was pin straight at all times, tumbling down to her mid back, elegant and smooth with toned legs beneath short pencil skirts and blouses that did not in any way hide her fully developed breasts (not that Annabeth had been leering in any way but surely she couldn't have been the only girl envious?). Reyna, on the other hand, had her hair cut very short, boy style. But with her very slender figure and long, lanky body, it matched her equally dominant personality. She took control in bed, and if Annabeth heard one more story about how fucking hot it was to have the Reyna Bellona tie up some sexually inexperienced boy in her debate club one more god damn time she was going to scream!

But it was women like that, that he brought home.

It was women like that, that were in his league.

And Annabeth was no such goddess.

But she could dream couldn't she? Of course only between classes, and after her designated homework time because, well, she had priorities. And goals. Which seemed to be yet another thing they did not have in common. It was also what assured Annabeth that this was strictly a teenage crush, because not even he would get in between the carefully threaded plans that were her future. But it was so tempting. How could a boy walk down the hallways with such nonchalance, with such a calm demeanor. The boy intrigued her. He owned the school but despite her best efforts Annabeth could not find even one hint that he actually cared. About anything. Not even the girls on his arms were worth even a mere smile. It had taken all of freshmen year for Annabeth to even gather so much as his name. When she finally did however, a fire coursed through her body as she tested it across her tongue;

Percy Jackson.

It was something she had never felt; a rush of passion for someone she didn't even know and she imagined this is what it must have been like to do drugs, and suddenly she could understand the addicts and recovering fuck ups because who would want to quit something so intoxicating, and powerful. And she was aware it was probably incredibly unhealthy to obsess the way she had over a boy who didn't even know of her existence. But she didn't much care. This boy was a fire in a hallway of ashes, no doubt about it and he was burning brighter than she thought possible for someone who seemed so burnt out.

At 14, he was the most beautiful being she'd ever seen.

At 15, her mother got remarried.

Within weeks, everything that she owned was tucked away into boxes, loaded into a truck and shipped 5,000 kilometers away. To their new home, her mother had exclaimed as she danced in anticipation, her wedding ring glinting across the ceiling. Annabeth was sure her eyes had faded to a dull grey, mirroring the utter fear of leaving behind all she'd ever known. At a young age, Annabeth had come to terms with herself and her flaws. A fear of the unexpected and commitment were just a few, but they gripped her life without mercy and pulled at it any which way they pleased. The thought of leaving her comfortable and predictable life was terrifying. All her relationships that had taken her her entire life to grow and develop, were thrown out the window without so much as a second glance.

Her new home was a beach house. Annabeth couldn't fathom why they'd moved here since her mother had always hated the ocean, but here her mother was embracing her new husband on their new deck as if it was all she'd ever wanted out of life. Annabeth couldn't imagine how her mother could be so blinded by the glamour of desire and deceit. Once witty and clever, Helen had married Annabeth's father, a successful aeronautic engineer and pursued her law degree. Helen had always been ambitious, and once she'd set her eyes on better she wouldn't stop until she achieved it.

How Chad Lancoster was better, Annabeth would never understand. He was a highschool principal, he spent most of his money on cigarettes and when the alcohol on his breath was a little too heavy he'd let himself get touchy, something that Annabeth absolutely dreaded. For the most part, Annabeth managed to keep herself off his mind and out of his house when things got out of hand.

Her methods worked for a little bit, and she watched her stepfather in his drunk abuse lash out on her mother but one day, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the swollen breasts that had developed over the past year. Under his own roof no less. He'd been furious, but that soon gave way to the pulsing desire that bulged in his pants for the younger, more desirable version of his wife. Every morning, when Helen left for work, Annabeth bit back tears as her bedroom door opened and large calloused hands pried at her skin.

Suddenly, whisky and cigarettes didn't smell so good.

By the time she was 17, there wasn't much left of Annabeth to be spared. Her skirts were replaced with leather pants, and her cardigans with death metal crop tops. Within two years, the pretty young thing that had walked the halls of Goode Highschool returned, broken beyond repair.

She didn't even remember his name

Updated 2016-12-16