This one's a bit... creepier than my normal stuff. It's what happens when I'm not in the greatest mood... It is also confusing and will be explained in the next chapter.

GLN3: xD I didn't think anyone would pick up on that xD

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Lmgmz: Yes, I know I've got a lot of cliffies. The only reason is because that's how I write. All of my chappies in original stories are cliffs just the same. It's because cliffs are easier to end on for me... :) Thanks!

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blessedbyartemis11: The size is only because I rarely get time to write. Sorry about that! Yeah, I know. I'm attempting to sort through character based issues this week so you may see a few changes in how I write. Also, this chappie is a bit more detailed than the rest. If I get more people who like it in this style as opposed to the other style, I could simply adopt this one as well. Although its hard to write in because I write creepy stuff mostly when I myself am in a bad mood. It's my form of venting. Thanks for the critiques and keep bringing them in! :D

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Enjoy guys!

Disclaimer: I own none of this. If I did, I wouldn't have messed up HoO by throwing in all those love triangles. Actually, it's more of a love hexagon or something 'cause they all seem to connect through one or two people. What's with all this match-making, Riordan?

A cold blade pressed against my neck. The wet drew-soaked grass like needles poking into my back. My name, seeming to echo a million times over, being shouted into my ears.

Yet amidst all this one thing bounces around in my mind, one thing that keeps me settled in the real world. This is the one thing that has kept me sane at my mother's house. It is the same thought that kept me from running for all those years.

There are those whose lives mean more than mine. I am simply the body guard.

The body sits like a dead weight, an anvil set upon my chest. The man's body keeps me down, keeps me from struggling.

My eyes follow the cracks in the walls. The simple, grey stone walls. Those same walls which have haunted my nightmares for all those years.

My mother was a wall. Her existence teased me for all those years. She kept me from moving forward, from living a regular life like a regular teen. And at the same time, she kept others from finding me. She kept others from finding my secret. Her secret.

Nobody found out about the abuse which occurred in my household. My mother scarcely made appearances, telling others that she was far too sick to come. Which was partially true. She did spend most of the time regurgitating whatever she had taken in.

My father was also a wall. Had I known him, had he sent for me, none of this would have happened. I would've been taken from my mother had he shown the decency to take care of his child. Like he never did. Like he isn't doing now.

"You have caused us quite some trouble, little lady," the man on my chest snickers, his knife digging slightly into my neck.

A small, warm drop of blood trickles down my throat. The cold blade digs deeper and deeper still, a searing pain attempting to grab my attention. Although, like my mother, I have become unresponsive.

I struggle to take breath, the fear and weight upon my chest making even that difficult. The sweat pours down my forehead, blinding me as I attempt to blink it out of my eyes.

Focus. Focus on one point in the distance.

My eyes shift to the window and take the whole scene in. the white windowpanes with the peeling paint. The yellowed glass that seems to fall in waves. The blood-red moon reflecting off of my murderer's hand, his blade, his eyes.

Focus on something, not what happens around you.

Back to the window.

A bird rests on the windowsill. An owl. It peers down at me, my fighting yet fainting form. Its golden yellow eyes glow faintly in the dark. Only its silhouette is visible in the fading light, yet I can tell that it watches me. I follow its eyes as it takes in the scene; me, my captor, the room, the stone walls and finally back to me once more. A flicker of recognition enters its face, which I never thought possible in a bird.

Just when I thought the animal would come to my rescue, it leaves with a small flap of its wings.

I can feel myself attempting to call after it, although I can barely take in breath. Instead, I sit there, completely mute, as the man pushes the blade in just far enough.

And, as I fall into nothingness, a single feather floats down onto the grassy ground before me.

REVIEEEEEEEEW! Also guys, tips are much appreciated as well. I REALLY need help with my writing, especially now that I've got so many projects up. Thanks! :D