1. As Chocolate Is To Dogs

There was a wind coming from nowhere, sweeping his dark hair to the side. His sea-green eyes were bright and happy. He was laughing, the most beautiful sound. Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, the most handsome demigod of the century.

Then I woke up. I cursed my damned mind for thinking of him. First of all, I'm a son of Hades, which would technically make me his cousin. Second, he already has a girlfriend who he's madly in love with, so it's not like I would ever have a chance with him anyway. Third, and probably the most important, is that I am a boy and he is a boy, and I'm pretty damn sure that he doesn't 'swing' that way. So it's pathetic. There's never ever going to be anything between us and I know that. So if I know that, why can't I get over it? Perhaps it's the feeling of wanting something you can't have. Humans seem to dwell on that a lot. We all want something we can't have. Let's not limit to the human species! Dogs, for example, love chocolate but can easily die if they consume too much of it. Of course, dog's minds are clearly not as developed as a human's, so they might not know that certain foods are harmful but nonetheless they are wanting something they can't have. Much like me, who wants a boy who doesn't feel the same way and is happily living his life. Percy is to a bar of chocolate, as I am a dog. He's dangerous, oh so very dangerous, but I can't help but want him badly.

New day, new day, new day, I remind myself constantly as I get ready. My alarm clock on the nightstand reads 4:37. Typical. Along with the long list of problems I have, insomnia can be added to it. I don't fall asleep very easily and when I do, I can almost always wake by the sound of a pin dropping. I also usually wake up early. In conclusion, with the going to sleep late, waking up multiple times throughout the night, and waking up early, I probably get, at the most, 4 hours of sleep a night. And naps? Forget it.

I go to take a look at myself in the mirror. I see a very thin, very pale, very scrawny boy with dark circles under his eyes, dark hair that doesn't look brushed and falls over only one of his eyes, dark eyes that look panicked and pained all the while being frightening, dark expression, dark clothing. A dark atmosphere seems to envelope him, surrounding him like a cloak. The boy in the mirror didn't speak, nor did I so I couldn't tell what personality he had. From the outside, a person looking in, he seemed like an extreme introvert, which wasn't far from the truth, with a dark personality. From the inside, the boy trying to know about himself, he was an introvert, but didn't necessarily want to be. He knew how dangerous it was to keep to himself, bottling his emotions and thoughts into his mind so much so that he relied on other people to pull him out of the seemingly bottomless pit these thoughts have dug for him. But it was the only thing he knew how to do.

He knew of things that make people happy, just not how to get them. He knew of love. He knew of family and friends. He had a vague sense of knowing how to belong. But in all of those things that could make a person feel better, he had gotten rotten luck on them all. His love would never love him back, his family could never come back, he couldn't make any friends, he didn't belong anywhere… Much like me. The boy in the mirror is just like me. I check my clock again, this time it reads 4:52. The Athena cabin would most likely be getting up soon. They tended to get up early along with the Demeter cabin, which loved watching the sunrise in the east. As I sit down, my bed creaks one of those horror movie sounds. It's not like a normal creaky bed, everything in my cabin is dubbed creepy. My cabin has this aura of well, death, and it terrifies people. No one comes here, which if I'm honest, is really comfortable. I don't get bothered by some annoying person-

A knock on my door. Loud. Bothering me. Someone knocks again. It disrupts my thoughts. I am apprehensive to open it. Should I? Who on earth would come to see me at such an early time like this? For all they know, I could be asleep like most others in camp. But I'm not. I should be sleeping. The door rattles. Whoever is outside really, really wants to come in. It scares me, not knowing who is out there. I want to find out. I want to open the door. Why can't I open the damn door?! I stand once again and shuffle towards it. One hand out, I stop right before, so my hand isn't yet touching the metal. KNOCK. I flinch. Suddenly I open the door and immediately look towards the ground, careful not to make eye contact.

I see boots. Black combat boots with mud and dirt on them. I lift my eyes ever so slightly and see the grimy boots attached to legs, which are uncovered as far as I dare to look. My eyes raise the tiniest bit more and I find the short black shorts that clearly used to be pants, ragged and uneven. Inching up the body, I see a black tank top. This figure is unbelievably skinny, much too skinny to be healthy. I see wiry arms, bony shoulders, rather large bosom for such a thin build, painfully skinny stomach. I go so far as to look at her neck. There are deep scars all over her neck and throat and what looks like vampire bites can clearly be seen near her collarbone.

"Hey arschloch, my eyes are up here," the faceless figure speaks to me. Her voice is soft but harsh. She doesn't have an accent except for when she called me an asshole in German. I know her. I know I can look at her now. I look up at Skipper's face, big eyes with a more intense blue than even Thalia's, thin nose, and chapped but luscious lips. One eyebrow was raised. She clearly was deciphering my mood and expression as she always does, so she could categorize it and help me if I needed it. I didn't.

"Look, can I come in or not?"

I stopped with my thoughts and quickly moved out of the doorframe, which I hadn't realized that I have been blocking the whole time. She casually walked in and collapsed on my bed. I still don't know why she does this. There are only two beds in the Hades cabin. They are not bunk beds as most of the other cabins have. And even though there is another bed, she always chooses to take mine. I don't think I will ever understand it. She started to make the bed hers, stretching and rolling up in the covers. She was scrunched up in a ball, as she always sleeps, facing the wall, turned away from me. I closed the door and sat on the edge of my bed. I studied her.

Skipper's hair was brown for the first time in a while and there was no trace of artificial colors in it. Random twigs and leaves were tangled throughout her braided hair. Sweat had matted down the little bangs that were too short to be braided. She was exhausted. That part was obvious. Skipper seldom slept; maybe 3 to 5 times a month. Yes, a month. Like I just said, she doesn't sleep. I gently pulled the covers down and tucked her in. Now, under normal circumstances, someone would just count it as friendly, but I only did that so I could study her more.

I could see her face now. Her cheeks were flushed with pink. There were cuts on her cheek and one of them looked fresh. Her expression was tense; like every part of her hurt. I went to touch her arm but she quickly moved away and curled up tighter. I coaxed her to lie on her stomach, which she did. Ever so gently, I put my hand in between her shoulder blades. I put pressure on her back and she groaned, more of pain than pleasure. My other hand found its way to her back, pushing down, moving in circles with my palms, careful not to hurt her further. She was unbelievably tense, her muscles screaming for relaxation. I tried to think of another way to help her but nothing came to mind, so I kept giving her a massage. I must have his a nerve, or a soft spot… Something she didn't like, for she let out a yelp and went to sitting before I could even comprehend what had happened. Skipper whimpered. I felt useless.

"What…?"

She looked at me with big blue eyes but she didn't speak.

"Tell me, please Skip. What happened," I begged.

A look I've never seen crossed her face. She bowed her head and whispered, " There were so many of them. I couldn't- I- I jus-" She looked up again with tears streaming down her face; another thing I've never seen Skip do. She cracked. She was broke. Shattered to pieces, and not all of them were there. I sat there dumfounded not knowing what to do. I put my arms around her as she buried her face in my chest, sobbing. I couldn't think. I needed to think. I had to. For Skipper. I had to figure something out so that I could help her and not be useless. But I couldn't think. My mind was overwhelmed by her sudden emotions. So I sat there, holding her in my arms, not able to do anything for the life of me to help her. She fell asleep only a few minutes later. My clock read 5:17.

I stared at the wall ahead of me and returned to my thoughts. They have been waiting for me. They are glad that I am now back. They say hello in a cruel way, dragging my Skipper into my subconscious. I shouldn't be worrying about her right now. She is asleep and all is well. When she awakes, I shall return to thinking of her but for now I should be free to think of other things. My mind has other in store for me. I go on to think about think about what could have caused her to become this emotional wreck. I hadn't the slightest clue. It upsets me greatly to see her in this state. My anger only rises to know that there's absolutely nothing I can do.

I sit and think like this for quite some time, not moving, not looking at anything else other than the wall that lies in front of me. I come out of my state of mind when Skipper begins to stir in my arms. I take a quick glance at the clock. 6:19. Breakfast will be starting soon. Will I go out today? I'm not sure. That all depends on what Skipper wants to do. She lets out a yawn that expose her deadly sharp canines. She looks around sleepily and looks up at me. I see that her eyes are now a deep red infused with gold.

"Your demon is showing," I kid.

She perks up and changes so her eyes are now blue and her fangs switch back to normal teeth. I hesitate to ask her about the earlier incident. I decide I'll wait. She changes her grimy outfit into my clothes, which fit her surprisingly well. Black band shirt, black jeans, black hoodie, you get the picture. Dark. I sum up that it suits her. It suits both of us, really. We are children of the Underworld, after all.