Hey guys! I know this is short, but enjoy!

Thank you Cockapoo for your review! I'm actually not usually a funny person as most of my friends consider me to be hostile and kind of sullen... Still, when I write I do get a few funny moments onto paper (or in this case, onto Word). I'm glad you liked it! What you'll see in this chapter and in the first one is what and how I usually write (in my own style kind of thing). Cookie! (: :)

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or any of their characters. I only own Alisa, Marcus and Layla. Also, turns out that both Annabeth AND Sally own Percy. Oh, and Nico says he owns himself...

"You can take that bunk," Annabeth says to me, pointing at the bottom bunk of a clean bunk bed. The sheets, walls, desks, beds and everything else is completely grey, like walking into a tub of moonlight.

"Thanks," I yawn. I'm completely exhausted even though I've slept for a day.

She smiles at me and throws me a back pack.

"There are some clothes in there and a toothbrush. There's toothpaste and mouthwash in the bathroom already. Night, Layla," she informs before slipping into one of the bathrooms and locking the door behind her.

I follow her lead, taking my bag and slipping into another bathroom. I go through the bag and find a pair of fleece sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. As I slip into them, I take a look in the mirror.

I look as if I hadn't slept in days. Dark rings circle my eyes and my hair looks like a rats nest. I attempt to tame it but I'm sure that that can only be achieved after a shower, which I am not in the mood to take now.

I'm so tired that I ignore the toothbrush in my bag and step out of the bathroom.

"You look tired," I hear a deep yet sweet voice say.

I turn suddenly, bumping into Malcolm. His hair is wet, flopping yet again into his grey eyes. He attempts to fix it by wrapping it in a towel, but it isn't helping. He simply resorts to attempting to dry it.

"Get some rest," he laughs. "I'll get you settled in tomorrow. Be awake by six tomorrow morning and you'll catch breakfast. Night."

He slips into the bunk above mine, throwing down a few of his extra pillows before finally settling down.

I slip into my own bunk but I can't sleep. I flip around in my bed, annoyed by the whirring sound of Smart Boards and laptops that were left on.

Still, I know this isn't what's keeping me awake.

I doze off somewhere in between midnight and one AM.

I feel a cold draft rushing over me, dampness in the air I breathe. Pushing myself upwards and onto my feet, I find myself in a strange, stone corridor. It's so old that the walls look as if they were about to break and the ceiling looks as if it is going to cave in.

My hand reaches involuntarily to the wall and I feel the cold underneath my outstretched fingers. I keep my hand there, sucking the cold from the wall and into my own body.

What am I doing? Why am I here?

As if cued by my thoughts, my head turns in both directions, seeing only the vast expanse of the tunnels and nothing else. The cold draft settles over my shoulders once more, stealing what little warmth I had within me.

I search for something, anything, but my eyes are blind to anything but the wretched walls and the stone ceiling. There is no life around me.

Wondering what has happened, I turn to my left. I know that I won't be helping myself by simply standing here and I know equally that I won't be helping myself by running. Still, I run.

My life depends on this small source of freedom, the sensation of the wind through my hair and the ground leaving my feet as I am weightless for certain moments.

My head pounds, but I am completely ignorant of it as I race down the tunnels.

The lights from the lanterns on the wall flicker, leaving strange shadows upon the walls.

Then realization hits me.

I am scared and alone.

The thought rocks me to my core, throwing me off the edge. My knees buckle and I hit the ground, scraping my legs on the rough, jagged rock of the tunnel. I curl into the fetal position, tucking in my chin until my eyes see only my scraped and scarred knees. I wrap my arms underneath my legs, tucking them in further until I am in a ball.

Attempting to soothe myself, I play gently with my fingers, hoping that I will be found, somehow.

Still, there is nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Then, from nowhere, I pick up on something.

A soul.

Whether human, animal or monster.

It's a soul.

Something to cling to.