I jolted up, my eyes widened, sweat pouring down my face, I glanced around frantically, I was in a- I stopped as my mind went blank, I didn't know where I was. I felt like I had left the room I had been in and drifted somewhere else. But I am still in the room, with the furniture only consisting of a desk and a chair, the worn out wallpaper was splashed with dried blood, with the man with a bad scarred head and pale green eyes and his shirt barely covered his swollen muscles. I knew who this man was; it is the man I have been trying to find for nearly eight years. It's the man that killed my father.

I had found him when I decided to return to the apartment, I had found him hiding in the bushes near the apartment. I recognized him instantly, but it took him about ten minutes to remember me, I'm still insulted by that.

I shakily got up, my mind beginning to work, though this was the man I had been trying to find, I knew that if I let my emotions do the talking, I would certainly lose. So I tried to imagine it like one of those fighting matches I did a couple of years ago, it was around when I was sixteen, I use to go to Manhattan, late at night, and fight in rings, crowds of people throwing their bets around the room, with no weapons at all, just a classic hand to hand fight. The man raised his sword, cutting me out of my thoughts, but as soon as he swung the sword I grabbed his wrist and disarmed him. But the man swung his fist at my jaw and I staggered back from the blow. I taste my own blood from a split lip. It interests me, and I take my time to wipe the blood off my lip. I am stripped to the waist, all sinew and gristle.

My opponent bangs his fists together and moves forward so he was barely a metre away from me and my hawk-sharp gaze darts down from my opponents face to his muscles as they flex, giving me just enough warning to move my head so that a punch grazes me. He throws a storm of punches, most of which I duck or block but I throw nothing in return, sometimes I even drop my hand, just using my reflexes to protect myself. Frustrated my opponent steps on my foot trapping me and knocks me down with a thunderous right hook. And my battered face was pressed into the dirt but I am smiling. This is just what I needed. This is my therapy. I roll over and sit up, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. My opponent jeers at me, kicking me in the stomach "Get up." He ordered but in a mocking tone, but I did get up and bent my knee's down with my fists in front of my face. "We're not done. Not until you can't move, pretty boy." The man said cracking his knuckles and I wiped the blood off my dripping nostrils quickly and the back of my hand came away dyed with blood.

"You don't want to do this…" I trail off in attempt to make him halter to give me enough time to formulate a plan for me to escape, maybe dragging him to an abandoned building, wasn't the best idea.

"'Course I do." The man countered, jumping from foot to foot, but I ignored it, I didn't want to get distracted by anything, if I did, I would lose, and that wouldn't be the best thing to do right now.

"Trust me. You don't." I countered and the man, getting impatient by this growled pulling back his fist, ready to punch me in the face.

"Shut your yap and fight." He said whilst his huge fist whistles past my ear and I sigh, turning away to face the table, where a white napkin was sitting on the edge, the mark of the Darkwood cult staring back at me, and my mind got to work, analysing and strategising. First, distract target, I can use the napkin for that. He would retaliate by doing a blind jab at me, I would easily block that and I counter by using my right fist to punch him in the cheek and I dissimulate him making him dazed. He will retaliate by trying to punch me in the side but I use my elbow to block him then grabbing his wrist with my other hand I will be able to do a punch to the gut without him being able to block me. I block his left fist and weaken jaw with right fist then fracture by punching his temple. He will be on the retreat now and to wounded to block my two punches to his gut then I will dislocate his jaw entirely and when he is backing away in pain I will raise my hands as if about to swing them down onto his shoulders but I kick him in the stomach, sending him to the ground.

I smiled to myself grabbing the napkin and whipping it around to throw it into his face and blocked his jab and punched him in the cheek, I boxed his ears and used my elbow to block his punch and grabbed his wrist and used my other fist to punch him in the gut. I continued the fight and soon the man was on the ground unconscious and I cracked my neck.

I stepped through the door, considering going back and killing him, but I liked this way, he was going to have a six month recovery from his injuries and a year for mental recovery, I believe that is enough. I don't really like the whole idea for revenge anyway.

I walked through the hallways, thinking about how easy that was, to destroy the person that gave me the curse. It did not give me any satisfaction. But whilst I was walking down the halls I passed a room, a stack of papers on the desk, directly in front of the door. As I knew no one else was near the building I walked into the room, and I only had to glance at the first piece of paper to know that this was important.

The first line said 'William Cliff' my name. They had obviously made files on me, maybe they have files on the rest of the seven, I don't know, but they seem to have my file here, I don't know why its here though, it shouldn't be here. That thought nagged me as I flipped it open and frowned at the history of my life. Going into detail I see, even my curse is in here. I faltered when I did read and what I read I could not believe.

"William received the curse by the son of Aries, Buck Willow, and lied saying that he was a son of Hecate to give Will the curse that whoever loved him were to die, the curse is fake but that is not known by Will. Buck were just playing around with the ten year old boy who-"

I couldn't read any further, I had read enough, I backed away and my back hit the wall, I slipped down to the floor shaking my head. It couldn't be true, but it fits, Annabeth loved me, but she's still alive, Fred said that Imogene-No he was playing with me, just like this Buck guy did back then. I am a gullible. So gullible.

"No" I whispered as it sunk in that everything I had done for the past eight years had been for nothing, that I was only doing it for the fun of it. "No."