So, about last chapter... I kinda left you off with a cliffy, huh. It's something Rick Riordan does and it makes me so mad, so I figured I'd do the same thing to you all means I love ya so much. Speaking, of loving you all so much, I love all the reviews and comments you're giving me! Let's keep that up! I LOVE hearing from you! And, since you all rock, and are very awesome, I've decided to reward you with another chapter down below. Enjoy! (By the way, Percy Jackson and the Olympians belongs to Rick Riordan!)


In 3, 2, 1- CRASH! Right on schedule; Gabe barged into my room, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me into the living room to deliver me my traditional beating.


It's funny how most kids are always complaining about how tough their life is when really, they most likely are very very fortunate to have the things they do. If you're mad because you're parents are being 'totally unfair because they won't let you go to the mall with Tiffany and Amber,' oh well. I could've said, "My parent is being so unfair because he won't let me get out of the house otherwise he'll beat me bloody." Which sounds worse? But yet, do I complain? Never out loud. I keep my secrets and complaints inside my head. Before you overreact about a little disagreement, think about the people who aren't as fortunate as you.

That's what's running through my mind as Gabe is kicking me. That's what I think about every time he does it.

After Gabe had pulled me out of my room, he dragged me to the living room and pushed me. I stumbled backwards. I didn't fall, I almost did though, but managed to regain my balance.

I kept as much distance from him as I could, taking slow steps until my back hit the wall. Cornered.

"I told you specifically, punk, that I wanted you home early. And you came late!" Gabe growled. Honestly, he turns the smallest situations into the biggest productions.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my voice cracking an octive higher.

"What was that?" He asked me, his face inches from mine.

"I-I'm sorry," I answered. Gabe elbowed me hard in the rib cage. It knocked the air right out of me, and the pain was indescribable. I'm pretty sure he hit another bruise from recent beatings.

"Were you not listenin' to me kid?" He shouted. "How could you be stupid enough to disobey me? Just like your mother; stupid, arrogant, never listens to what's good for her, and look what happened, she gets herself kill-"

"Do not say one word about my mother!" I shouted. I couldn't believe he was saying all of these fake things about her. Anger rushed through my body. Apparently, it did Gabe's too. He punched me in the right cheek so hard that my head flung back and hit the wall behind me, making the wall dent in a little. I crumpled to the ground.

"Weak too," he said, towering over me. He grabbed my shirt collar again and pulled me up. For a fat, sloppy pig of a guy, he was actually pretty strong.

"You're a disgrace to have as a son, bitch," he sneered. His punched my ribs and my stomach. I was too weak to even block a few of the punches. My whole head thronged, my body ached. I just wanted this to be over. Finally, after a few more punches, he threw me to the ground.

"Get up," he ordered. "Go to bed," he added bitterly, walking over to his Poker table, picking up a half empty beer bottle, chugged it, and loudly set it down on the table. "NOW!" He screamed. I still didn't move. I could hardly breathe, much less feel my arms. After a few seconds of me laying on the ground not doing anything, I heard Gabe saunter over. His blurred face appeared over mine.

"Never listens," he grumbled. He grabbed me by my shoulders, turned me on my stomach, and suddenly glass broke, and an unbeatable pain entered my shoulders and back.

Gabe had grabbed the beer bottle and smashed it over my body, glass digging into my skin.

I yelped in pain.

I somehow managed to turn over on my hands and knees before Gabe would hit me again for not moving. I managed to crawl on my sore knees and my aching arms, and crawl into the bathroom.

I looked at the bruise on my cheek. It was red, and purple there, with a tiny little crack with blood oozing out, (I know, gross description, huh? You should see it.) I cleaned that up a bit. Still, there was no way people weren't going to miss that. I went to work on repairing the other parts of my body.

Wincing every time I moved too suddenly, I managed to take off my shirt and observe the bruises. The sight was not pretty.

A few new bruises started forming already. But I knew that by tomorrow morning they'd be even worse, and there'd be more. Most of the were by my rib cage. A few forming bruises on my sides. Now I did the thing I regretted most; I turned around, facing the door, and turned my head, examining my back. It was even worse than all the bruises.

There was a lot of blood, for one thing. Three long trails off blood travelled from my shoulders, to the small of my back. Inside the spot were the blood had started, were three very sharp pieces of glass from the beer bottle Gabe had broken over my body. I knew I had to get those out, and it would hurt a hella lot, but I had to try.

I rummaged through cupboards until I found the tweezers. I grabbed an extra hand-held mirror so I could see what I was doing better. I reached over my shoulders, and began to attempt to pull out the first piece of glass. Lemme tell ya, that shit hurts! A lot! After two very painful minutes of pulling, I finally got the blood-covered shard of glass removed from my left shoulder. Then, I moved onto the other two, each just as painful as the last. After about six minutes of more torture, all the shards of glass were fully removed. I took a few big breaths, readying myself for what I had to do next.

In the hamper by the shower, I grabbed a small washcloth, folded it a bit, and bit down on it as a way to help deal with the plain, and to stop the neighbours from hearing more of my screams.

I looked in the cupboard in the mirror, and found a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. I wasn't too bright on health, but I had a pretty good suspicion that unless I cleaned out the wounds with the alcohol, it could get really infected. So, bracing myself, I aimed the bottle to the cuts on my back, and wet down the wounds with the alcohol. I grunted in pain, trying very very hard not to scream. It hurt. It hurt a lot. It really, really, REALLY hurt. It stung, and after drying off the wounds, it felt like my back was on fire.

I dug through some more supplies we had stored in the bathroom, and finally found some bandages. I cleaned up the blood running down my back, and applied the bandages. Then, I struggled to put my shirt back on. Feeling scared, yet relieved at the same time, I quietly made my way to my room, closed the door, locked it, and crawled to bed.


I couldn't sleep at all. I looked at my alarm clock and saw that it read 2:56. I would get up in five hours.

I was thinking about my friends: Annabeth, Jason, Frank, Hazel, Thalia, Reyna, Leo, Grover, Nico. If they suspected anything in my behaviour, or if they saw my bandages, they would be asking questions, and expected me to answer them. When, really, I couldn't answer them. Not truthfully anyway. I came up with a whole bunch of excuses that night. Hopefully they worked! I guess we'll see in the morning, huh?

Still thinking about my friends, I rolled over, and managed to get some sleep.


Oh no! I kinda feel like an awful person! How could I do that to my precious baby Percy?! Lock me up, and throw me into Tartarus!... Anyways, make sure you like, follow and review, and now that I started up until 10:22 in a school night, I am very tired and am going to go to bed! Goodnight, and as always, this is DemigodUndercover, signing out-Zzz...