Here's the story behind Shattered:

I wrote about 55000 words of it during NaNoWriMo 2012. Then I stopped. It is currently about 80% written, and will most likely be about 75k words. I'm finishing it as I go, and I hope to be able to fill in and edit enough to post one chapter a week until it's done at maybe 35 chapters. Unless there's a plot bunny, which there probably will be. Then, it will most likely be a bit longer.

Tl;dr: thanks for reading! More to come on Sunday!

Happy Reading, Sep

Chapter Two: Tall Boys. Saturday morning, the sixth of August, two thousand eleven. Katie.

The character names of The Percy Jackson and the Olympians series are owned by Rick Riordan. The original content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Separate Entity, two thousand fourteen. Please do not copy, reproduce, or translate without express written permission.

Content Warnings: This chapter contains mature language, blood, and rape. May contain triggers. Also, eating chicken, which may offend vegetarians.

Blood dripping from my fingers. Screaming, in a voice that I didn't recognize. Pain, pounding in my head, squeezing my wrists, slamming at my back. And another pain, worse than all the others, that was like a dagger in my gut.

It took me a while to become aware of my surroundings. I was lying on my back, on something soft, with another something supporting my head. I took a breath and smelled popcorn. I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying on a brown fabric couch, with a pillow under my head. There was a familiar-looking boy sitting on the floor next to the couch, a boy with messy dark brown hair and closed eyes. Where was I?

I tried to sit up and regretted it immediately. Pain shot through my body and it took all my willpower not to scream. Tears welled in my eyes.

I remembered now. The pain. The betrayal. Running through the night, climbing stairs, pounding on a green-painted door. Travis Stoll opening the door. That's who the boy was. Travis. I'd been wrong to call him a boy; he was just as old as I was. But the way he acted, along with the ever-present mischievous glint in his eye, always made me think of him as younger.

"Travis?" I asked.

At the sound of his name, Travis jerked upright, staring at me. "Katie?" he said, his tone verging on incredulous. "Katie, are you okay?" He extended a hand and placed it on my wrist.

Just like that, I froze. I wasn't in the little living room anymore. I wasn't on the couch. I was in an alley, pinned against rough brick with rough hands pinning my wrists together. Instead of Travis's brown eyes, I was gazing into pale blue irises full of anger.

I cringed away from the contact, and then I was back on the couch. I gasped for air. "Katie, I'm sorry," Travis whispered. "What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"

I felt like a hand was squeezing my chest and another was crushing my throat. I heard a choked sob and realized it came from me. I looked Travis in the eye, and shook my head no.

"Katie, what's wrong?" he asked again.

I began crying in earnest. I didn't want to tell him. I wanted so badly for all of this to just be a nightmare, but the pain in my body dispelled all illusions.

Travis was still talking. "Are you still in pain? We gave you some nectar while you were unconscious, but I think it's safe to give you a little more now."

Still unable to speak, I just nodded. "Okay," he said, and got up off the floor, presumably to go wherever it was the ambrosia was kept. Had I just called him a boy? He was huge, at least a foot taller than my own five feet three inches. Tall and lanky, I thought with a trace of bitterness.

As he turned to leave the room, panic shot through me. I didn't want to be alone in this room. I didn't want to be alone with my memories. "Wait," I said, surprised by the desperation in my voice.

"Katie-girl," Travis said with a half smile, "if you want ambrosia, I have to go get it."

"Wait for me," I said, "I'm coming with." Gingerly, I stood up. Physical pain was preferable to emotional pain, no questions asked. Still, it hurt. I gritted my teeth as pain spread through my body. If Travis knew, he might have made me lie back down. I must not have controlled my face as well as I'd hoped, though, because Travis reached out to steady me. Again, I flinched away from his touch, and his smile disappeared.

"Sorry," he said.

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. I'm just a little … skittish."

Travis seemed to accept my answer. He shrugged and led me into the kitchen. "Sorry about the mess," he said, shoving a stack of dirty plates into the sink.

"Didn't I just say not to apologize?" I asked. Travis smiled that half smile again, and I felt the pressure in my throat lessen.

"Here you go," Travis said, procuring a square of ambrosia out of a baggie. I took a bite, tasting olive pizza.

"Thanks," I said, brushing a crumb off my shirt. A shirt, I realized with a start, that wasn't mine. The sweatpants I was wearing weren't mine either. I flashed Travis a shocked look. "Where are my clothes?" I asked him.

"Your dress was all bloody. I put it in the laundry, but I'm not sure if it'll help. The stuff that you've got on now is Connor's. He's shorter than I am."

I might've smiled at that, if I hadn't still been grappling with the fact that I'd been undressed while I was unconscious. I tried to focus on something else. "Connor lives here, too?" I asked. "I thought I heard you calling him when I came in, but…"

"Yeah, he lives here. He's asleep right now. I took first watch." He winked at me.

"What time is it, anyways?" I asked.

"Umm … about three-thirty," Travis said. "You showed up a little after midnight. Are you hungry or something?"

I nodded. He nodded back. "I don't know what we have in the fridge, but you're welcome to it."

"Thank you," I said.

We sat across from each other at his table and ate leftover shawarma. It was like a chicken wrap, but with weird spices. For a while there was no sound but chewing; then Travis spoke up. "Katie?"

I tensed, bracing myself for any of the obvious questions—how did you get here? what happened to you? or the now-expected are you okay?—but all he said was, "You've got sauce on your cheek." I blushed, part embarrassed and part relieved, and wiped the offending smear away.

The kitchen windows were letting in a touch of pre-dawn light when Travis let out an enormous yawn. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm keeping you up."

"Naw," Travis brushed me off. "I'm not working tomorrow. That's why I'm here instead of Connor."

"I'm kind of tired," I said, mostly so he could get to bed. I felt guilty stealing his sleep. "I can go back and sleep on the couch. You don't have to stay and watch me; I'm not planning on disappearing in the middle of the night."

Travis was shaking his head before I'd said two sentences. "I can't let a girl sleep on the couch. Call it what you will. You'll sleep in my room."

I tried to protest—Travis had already been sitting on the floor for hours, and hadn't I just been sleeping on the couch anyways?—but he wouldn't hear a word of it.

He led me to his room and I sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at Travis, who was standing in the doorway. His tall frame blocked most of the light, but I saw the hesitant expression on his face when he spoke. "Katie-girl? If you want to-to … talk about it, whatever happened, I'm here, okay? You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but if you do…"

Tears stung my eyes, and I wasn't entirely sure if they were because of the question, or how Travis had asked it. "I can't, Travis. I'm sorry." And I really was.

Travis looked like he'd expected this answer. "Sleep well, Katie girl," he said, and walked away.

I was alone. I was alone, but I didn't feel alone. On this bed, wrapped in these blankets, it felt like Travis was still in the room. I closed my eyes.

CUE THE LINE BREAK. IT GOES HERE.

It was only seconds later that the nightmare began.

A rough grasped my wrists, pinning them to the alley wall behind me. I struggled, but he was just too strong. I tried to scream; the noise was cut off as he mashed his mouth over mine.

I bit his lip. He smashed me against the brick wall and I saw stars.

Two objects glowed bronze in the darkness behind him, but they were out of my reach and useless against him besides. A part of me had retreated deep within myself, watching and sobbing. How could he do this? I had trusted him! Loved him.

This couldn't be happening. I was a demigod, a daughter of Demeter! I was strong. I could fight!

But there were no plants nearby. And my blades went right through him. Being able to fight off dangers in the world hidden by the Mist did not make me invulnerable to the dangers of the mortal world.

The new pain, when it came, made my knees buckle. The added pressure of my body weight on my still-pinned arms was nothing compared to this terror, this anguish, this worst of betrayals. It wasn't supposed to be like this!

He could muffle the sound of my screams, but my tears flowed, silent and unchecked.