Chapter 1

"Your guard is too low!" she snarls, and I duck to avoid death. It always seems to be just a few seconds away, within her reach. I fight viciously, but I am no match for her; she is far stronger, swifter, and lethal than me.

"Sorry, Commander" I apologize, and it sounds flat like a stone because I don't care. She presses me on, and I attack back in a futile attempt. Does she have any idea what is going on in my head? Does she know what I want? Never. I would rather believe unicorns existed; she has no heart. Even if she did, it would be made of rock, unable to love or see the good in everyone.

Mother.

I have tasted the word in my tongue whenever I was alone. It was supposed to be sweet like honey but all I have experienced was bitterness. How very wrong the word sounds, when I refer to this vile, merciless creature who bore me. My back is a map of her brutal torture; it is almost silver from slashes. She never lets me call her mother; she thinks it shows weakness and I snort to myself. The last time I called her my parent was during the chilly, unforgiving dawn of March and it still haunts me in my dreams.

She slashes at me with grace like a dancer and I barely avoid decapitation. I am always mesmerized by her beauty while fighting: the effortlessness in which she swings her sword, the dark elegance in her features when she whips me, and the vehemence of her fighting style almost brings me to my knees. I wonder who my father was; I have never seen him, much less known him and the Commander refuses to speak of him.

Commander.

That's what I call her.

She has my own dagger against my throat once I am done with my thoughts and I grit my teeth. I know what's coming for me, and it will be painful.

"Soldier" she spits. "Your fighting is sloppy."

I want to roll my eyes, but I know better. It will only earn me an extra three lashes. Instead, I stay quiet and await the punishment she will bring upon me. She grabs me by my collar and drags me to the wretched whip post, and the whole damned place reeks of blood. My blood. I mentally prepare myself for the whipping, because if I make a sound, I'll have worse. I look down to the underside of my arm, where the words MY EMOTIONS MAKE ME WEAK were carved in perfect bold letters. No matter what I do, I cannot forget the very night she branded me with these words.

She takes my arm and ties it to the post, bruising my wrist along the way, and I wince. I stay quiet, though. Better to have bruises than extra markings to add on my back.

After she finishes tying me up, she takes out her whip hanging at her belt, and circles me. As if I'm an animal she's about to butch. I barely reign in my anger and as if she senses it, her mouth curls up into a joyless smile.

Don't let her see your anger, Annabeth. Conceal your emotions.

I repeat this in my head and before I know it, she brings the whip down, scarring my back painfully. But I have got used to the pain. The second blow comes just as quick, possibly with more ease and strength of the Commander.

"Twice you have made the mistake" she says. "if there's one thing I do not tolerate, it is repetition of your mistakes."

The third lash.

The fourth.

Blood drips down my back into the hot sand below. The scorching sun shines down on the Commander and I, warming our skin until sweat drips down our faces. My shirt, or what's left of it, is soaked to a dark crimson hue, and the metallic scent of blood taints the air.

Damn my mother to the darkest pits of hell.

The fifth lash.

By the time it is over, I am breathing heavily. The pain courses through my body, sharp and painful as ever, as I begin to rise. She unties me and I fall to the ground in a heap, too overpowered by the torment of being whipped. I close my eyes and watch her walk away, not giving a damn thought about me. If there really is a God, I wonder why he lets me suffer this way. All I want is freedom. To be free.

[I hope the story's going good!]