AN: Hey everyone, Ash here. Just warning you that this chapter is quite gory and plenty gross. Just be warned, and not recommended for people under 12. Thanks. Enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! Its nice to know that people like the story.xoxo

Over the past five months, I've been to hell and back. You're probably wondering by now, "What happened to her? I don't get it."

Well I will tell you. My mum and dad ditched me as soon as I was born, to my only sibling. For the past 17 years I was living quite happily in the one and only New York, where I had lived with my older sister, Louisa, who is 28. We were more like best friends, only better. She was all I had, and I loved her with all my heart; but that was my mistake. I depended on her too much, I was ecstatic when she was happy, I was miserable when she was sad. And I swore that if anyone even laid an unfortunate finger on so much as a hair on her head; I would kill them.

One day I came home from school, and she was sitting upright in the chair, with a hole straight through her chest where her heart should've been, a glass filled with blood, and a bowl filled with her mauled heart sitting in front of her as if she was enjoying a fucking meal. I stood there for two days, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to believe that some shitty bitch had done this to her, and then to top off their act, made such a cruel joke.

How unfortunate for them.

I finally made myself move, and when I did; I was on a mission that would take up the next four years of my life, and I never even so much as wavered from the charge that was given to me. I lived in cardboard boxes in the street, I ate from trash cans, I did my business in side alleys, or behind a tree in the park. I followed the man who did this. Hell, I didn't even know where I was going most of the time. I finally found him, running a business secluded from the government, selling illegal guns and torture tools that would do worse things than pull your eyes clean from their sockets, or a contraption that would crush you alive, millimetre by millimetre. I was filled to the point of explosion with rage and tackled him and knocked him out. I started to walk away, and stopped dead-still.

He killed my sister.

I would kill him, but a thousand times worse.

I would give the bastard what he deserved, and death was only skimming the surface. I stripped him, and lathered him in oil, then roughly tied him above some kind of electrical fire, said to be ten times the heat and intensity of a wood. I whipped him until he was forced to arouse from when I had knocked him out earlier. I told him what he did, and realisation dawned in his eyes, then the bastard finally acknowledged the fact he was going to a place worse than hell, a place made especially for him.

I was not Annebeth Chase in those moments. I was a bloodthirsty killer. I was overcome with an emotion I had never experienced before. It was addictive; and in those moments I realised how easily human feeling could be replaced by something else. Something dangerous.

I burned him, and then doused him with ice cold water, again and again and again, until he passed out. He wasn't gonna get off that easy though. I strapped him down on the table, tightly, so it dug into his already melting skin. I was not showing mercy. I seized a horrible looking utensil that resembled a cruel wrench, and fastened it on his toenail. I pulled, and he shrieked and screamed, and that was such a blissful sound to my ears, I laughed. I laughed so much I cried. I pulled off every freaking one of his nails, and the same with his fingers. I cut them off, one, by excruciating one. And no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how many times he asked for death to come to him, to wrap him up in its welcoming blackness. I was ruthless and no one could so much as touch me.

He died later that night, after many more trial runs of what the monster was selling.

I had been hurt, over, and over and over again. I had been pushed down, and stepped on ruthlessly.

I had been left alone. You can't do that to me. Because I will retaliate, I will get my justice, and I will be respected.

Or you die.

And I have one particular man in my mind.

I'll give you a hint.

Percy Jackson.