Nicknames: A Fic Of Cabin 10
A/N: I have way too much writer's-block for my own good.
Criticism is always welcome!
DISCLAIMER: I am not Rick Riordan. Therefore, I don't own PJO.
1: Survivor
People didn't understand you if you're in Aphrodite.
They took one look at you, and they'd call you… Things, if that's what you want to call them.
But if you're on the younger side, they'd call you others.
Shallow.
Fake.
Weak.
Camp didn't value those things. It just took you in, like a refuge. It allowed you to stay there as long as you needed. As long as you were alive.
Which, for especially the kids of Cabin 10…
Wasn't very long.
You ever heard of the Curse Of Cabin 9?
The Killing Of 10 was worse.
Imagine innocence, such a fragile thing, even for a moment. Like a mirror, a mere reflection of yourself and all those around you.
Imagine that shattering. The naïvety of your life crumbling with nothing you could do to stop it. The road of your childhood abrubly ending with a halt, so many unkept promises and horrifying lies corrupting you from the inside.
They haunted you. Lost friends, murdered siblings, the screams and the cries eventually fading when the victim felt no more.
And yet, even then, you didn't feel like giving up.
There was still someone there. Someone you cared about, someone who you needed to spare from the horrors of the world.
At least, as long as you could.
Annika Reale never lost it.
So why should you make her lose it now?
You are Lacy Slate.