Hola!

Okay, this chapter is really emotional, at least I hope it is, I intended it to be. I feel kinda raw after WRITING it. I'm gonna go straight to writing the next chapter. Hopefully have it up today.

So, my friend SilverSummer changed her name to…Raven Hazlewood. Again, I don't think she's posted anything, but she should because she's really talented. Actually, just a bit ago she showed me some fanfic she was writing (for the Vampire Diaries, though. She's demanding I watch that show, but I have so little free time!).

Shout out to Pokemonchen and kari0104 for helping me with this chapter via PM. Thanks!

I feel I should say that by writing about a drunk nine year old, I am not promoting under aged drinking. Lena should NOT be your role model in this case. Bad Lena. Bad, bad.

LYRIC TIME AGAIN!

Lyrics to Monster by Skillet:

The secret side of me
I never let you see
I keep it caged
But I can't control it
So stay away from me
The beast is ugly
I feel the rage
And I just can't hold it
It's scratching on the walls
In the closet, in the halls
It comes awake
And I can't control it
Hiding under the bed
In my body, in my head
Why won't somebody come and save me from this?
Make it end!

[Chorus]
I feel it deep within,
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I feel like a monster

My secret side I keep
Hid under lock and key
I keep it caged
But I can't control it
Cause if I let him out
He'll tear me up
And break me down
Why won't somebody come and save me from this?
Make it end!

I feel it deep within,
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I feel like a monster

It's hiding in the dark
It's teeth are razor sharp
There's no escape for me
It wants my soul,
It wants my heart
No one can hear me scream
Maybe it's just a dream
Or maybe it's inside of me
Stop this monster!

[Chorus]
I feel it deep within,
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster

I feel it deep within,
It's just beneath the skin
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster
I'm gonna lose control
Here's something radical
I must confess that I
Feel like a monster

I, I feel like a monster[x4]

SO PERFECT FOR THIS CHAPTER! And a good song. I call it my angry song. I listen to it when I'm pissed.

Song I'm listening to: So Long Soldier by All Time Low from their new album Don't Panic which you should all buy!

Disclaimer: …rawr…

READ ON!

My meeting with the son of Hades left me feeling shaken and raw. I took a deep breath. "Get over it, Lena." I muttered, attempting to steel myself as I always have, but found it oddly hard. Why was it suddenly so hard to be strong?

It was like Zack was skinning me, leaving me defenseless, and then to add insult to injury, I liked it.

Why did I like it?

I still remembered the conversation I'd had with Nico.

"How forthcoming have you been to 'Zack' about your past?...I've learned a lot, Lena, in my lifetime. I've seen a lot, I've done a lot. More than I'd like. One thing I've learned is that you can move on from your past, but you can't leave it behind."

"I've moved on," I said to the wind, still trying to convince someone, but I didn't know who."

"There's a difference between moving on and running away."

I raised my eyes and lifted my chin, trying to feel the cold, fearlessness that usually inhabited my being. "I'm not running from anything." I repeated.

"Then face it."

"I am not afraid." I snarled to trees.

"Then face it." Nico's voice sounded taunting in my head, more taunting then I recalled.

"I will not be beaten."

"Then face it." His voice was sounding more and more warped, and it was getting colder and colder, my head starting to feel dizzy.

"I am not who I was!" I shouted.

"Then face it." I recognized the voice this time. It was the Memory Monster's. My spinning head grew more disoriented and I wished I hadn't taken off my sweatshirt, though I knew it wouldn't have helped the cold passing through me now.

I fell to my knees and I clutched my head, knowing that I was dizzy because, internally and unconsciously, I was fighting the memory that was sure to replay.

"I'm not afraid of you!" I shrieked.

"Then face me."

"I am not afraid of me!" I screamed, tears dotting my face, for the first time, I knew I was lying.

I heard the monster chuckle, sensing my lie.

"Then prove it."

Finally my head swam, like a fish in a whirlpool, and I fell completely down. I thought I heard my name before I blacked out to nothing.

I opened my eyes and I was sitting in a car, it was a plain one, one that wouldn't catch anyone's eyes. I could barely reach the pedals and barely see over the steering wheel, but I had successfully driven it across half a state. I climbed out, my bag across my back, and walked up to a motel. It was cheap and probably didn't even have video cameras. It was perfect.

Using a hair clip I picked the lock of one of the rooms and stepped inside. I closed the door and leaned against the door, after relocking it, throwing my bag to the ground.

Finally, after weeks, I felt the burning sensation of tears. A part of me was relieved. I thought I was heartless, not crying. I thought I was a monster, not mourning for my parents. As soon as the burn started, it broke into a wildfire of tears and sobs. It was gut wrenching and awful. Unattractive in every way.

I mourned for my parents death, and the lost of the life they could have lived with me.

I mourned for the death of my soul, for surely if it had taken me this long to cry, to feel sadness, I was soulless. I was no daughter.

I cursed and screamed at every god I knew, including my own grandparents. Demanding to know why this fate was brought upon, not only my parents, but myself. I begged them, dared them, to strike me down. To kill me with my soul. Surely they had desire to punish me, for being as soulless as I was. Apparently the punishment they chose was life, my living hell.

"Why?!" I screamed more times than I could count, then I could bear. "Why am I like this?! Why do I have to be a demigod?! Why must I be damned?! Why must I be living?! Why is this my torment?!" My throat felt raw, but I continued to scream until my voice was hoarse, and barely a noise came out. At that point, I just returned to sobbing, the only noises coming out of my mouth being awful wailing sounds. They were sounds of misery, defeat, and a pain that is beyond indescribable.

When I had the strength to stand, I did, but I continued to sob. I was sick of the pain. I was sick of being a Jackson.

I stumbled my way to the kitchen, in search of water to sooth my raw throat. I stuck my head under the kitchen sink and swallowed the water as it fell. I then moved to the fridge, unsure what I was looking for. In it, I saw several familiar glass bottles. On each was the note '$4 dollars added to bill when opened'. It was alcohol.

The idea of being drunk never appealed to me. It seemed idiotic and unrational. Where was your benefit?

But right there, my body racked with sobs and a pain worse than a hell hound bite, I understood.

Which was why, without hesitation, I pulled one out, opened it, and poured some into my mouth.

My first reaction was to vomit, but I swallowed it and drank more of the burning liquid. After a few swallow I felt my head start to spin and my tears start to stop. I smiled slightly and drank more. Soon, half the bottle was gone and I was laughing. Laughing at finally being carefree and not in pain. I enjoyed it. I laughed and laughed. And I drank and drank. Within five minutes the bottle was gone and I could barely see straight. I continued to laugh as I grabbed two more and stumbled back into the main part of the room with the bed, TV, and mirror. My cackles were too high pitched and wired, but I didn't care. I suddenly had no inhibitions. I was finally fearless.

Why didn't everyone do this? Why hadn't I done this before?

I opened the second bottle and started pouring into my throat, gulping it down selfishly. I was still laughing.

That's when I felt someone watching me.

I turned, frowning, and saw someone who looked like me. She had long, wavy, black hair, with sea-green eyes. Her skin was tan, but far too tight on her bones. She looked hollow.

I realized, eventually, it was a mirror.

I frowned, confused. That wasn't me. I pulled up my shirt and exposed my stomach. There I could see ribs protruding so much that I could count them. Clearly that wasn't me. I'm not that skinny.

I frowned and drank my second bottle of alcohol. I threw the empty bottle across the room and faintly registered a crash.

I stepped closer to the girl, who was-and-was-not-me. Why was she staring at me.

"You look just like them, you know?"

I whipped around, startled. Who had said that?

"You have your daddy's eyes. Oh, such pretty eyes." A different voice said.

"Who's there?" I said, but it sounded wrong, garbled, slurred.

Another new voice spoke. "Oh, how you look like your mom! Those curls, your cute nose!"

"Stop it," I muttered, but it sounded weird.

"You look just like them." Another voice joined in. They all sounded recognizable, like I should know them, but my head was so muddled that I wasn't sure.

"You'll be just like them, I'm sure!" So many voices began talking, I struggled to pick out what they were saying.

"You're sure to reach great heights!"

"A hero greater than them all!"

"A daughter of two heroes!"

"You so look like them!"

I put my hands to my ears, a bottle still in my right. "Shut UP!" I screeched.

"You got your eyes from your dad! Your black hair too! That's the Poseidon, that is!"

"Those facial features! Those curls. There's your mom! Your Athena!"

"The product of an ended feud."

I screamed. I wanted it to stop. "Shut UP!"

"You're sure to surpass your parents."

"A hero of epic proportions."

"The epitome of heroism."

I stared at the girl in the glass. It was her fault. Her with her black hair and green eyes like my father, and face and curls of my mother. It was her.

"STOP IT! STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!" I kept screaming that over and over, but the voices did not stop.

"We expect a lot from you, Silena." I heard.

"Lena!" I shouted. "My name is Lena!"

"You're sure to be a great hero."

"I don't want to be a hero!"

"We expect a lot from you."

I'd had enough. I screamed, high pitched and blood curdling. "Shut UP!" I threw the bottle in my hand at the mirror and it crashed into, causing shards to fly.

I gasped as I was struck with many. I felt one just in the corner of my right eye. Many on both arms. A few on my legs. Several on my feet. And one deeply cut at the base of my hand. I gasped again as I pulled the glass out of my hand. Once the glass was removed it started bleeding profusely.

I frowned, realizing that, had the glass hit just an inch or so later, it would have been on my wrist and, a cut that deep, it could have been fatal.

I could have died.

My muddled head tried to process this.

Death. End. Nothing. Maybe since my torment resided in the world of the living, I wouldn't face punishment in the underworld.

In my drunken head, it made perfect sense.

I wanted out. I was done.

Suddenly, the pain from the cut on my hand no longer hurt, it felt refreshing. I started laughing again.

Why hadn't I seen this way out before? How foolish I had been!

I held the sword to my wrist and smiled. I would see my parent's soon.

"I'll be there soon mommy and daddy," I slurred.

A bang broke my concentration. I started, shocked.

"Who's in there?" A deep voice demanded. I stood, not trying to be mindful of the glass, and stumbled to my bag that was by the door. I reached into the front pocket and felt the cool metal. I pulled out the small gun, feeling power in my hand.

"You're not allowed to be in there!"

"Go away!" I shouted.

I felt the door knob jiggle and knew he was unlocking the door. An old, scraggly man barged in with a nightstick and I raised my gun. He stopped, startled, and raised his hands.

"Whoah, little girl-"

"Don't call me that!" I snapped, but my voice was still slurred.

He frowned. "You drunk, kid?"

"Doesn't matter!" But my balance wavered and that was enough answer for him.

"C'mon kid. Let's go find your mommy and daddy, shall we?"

"You can't find them!"

"Hey, calm down, kid." He said, trying to sound relaxed. "We'll get you to the police and get this matter solved with your parents."

"My parents are gone. They left me. I'm alone. I always will be." My balance wobbled again.

"I'm sure we can find someone to take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of!" I screamed. "I'm not a helpless child!" I gasped. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

He seemed confused. "What're you talking about?"

I tightened my grip on the gun. "I'm warning you. This gun kills your kind too! Celestial bronze coated bullets."

The man seemed to be on a verge of a panic. "Kid, let's not do anything rash. I already called the police, they're on there way."

"They can't do anything! Not to me, and not to you, you monster! Who are you? What are you?" I demanded.

"Kid, I'm just the night watch…" he tried to reason.

"Liar!" I snarled as I regained my balance, after stumbling again. "You want to kill me! Just like you killed them! You're heartless!" I started laughing again. "But so am I, so, you know, whatever. That just means I'll pull the trigger on you, then I'll turn it on me. I don't care what monster you are, I'm so much worse." I pause, feeling almost sober if it wasn't for the spinning head. "I barely feel anything anymore. I rarely get hungry and I rarely get thirty, yet I starve and I get dehydrated. I don't trust anyone. I don't like anyone. I suddenly hate the company of people I thought of as friends. I see everyone as an enemy. A monster." I looked the old man in the eyes. "Even you. I honestly don't know who, or what, you are. But I can't take the chance. Every monster has to fend for itself."

"Listen, we can get you some help-"

"I don't want help!" I snapped. I hadn't meant to, but my finger had twitched, squeezing the trigger. I felt a boom and then a crack and then a thud. I stumbled back, my drunken state causing me to fall over.

I carefully tried to stand, but it took too much effort. I just decided to crawl to the lying man, but kept the gun in my hand. When I reached him, I frowned. Why wasn't he turning to dust? In his chest I saw red. It was dark and rusty. The man was still breathing though, just barely.

He locked eyes with me. "You heartless monster." He muttered, "My daughter. My grandkids," before his head went slack and his chest stopped moving up and down. I rapidly scooted back and used the wall to help me stand. I stared at the unmoving, bleeding man who lay on the ground.

"Put the gun down!" I heard.

I looked out the open door and saw a uniformed police officer, holding a gun of his own, appearing shocked that his simple break in call, surely a easy job, had turned into the nasty business of a nine year old killer.

Nine year old killer.

I was a killer.

A murderer.

A monster.

I was unsurprised.

"I said put it down!" He shouted.

I shook my head. "I can't." I croaked, my voice still hoarse from all my shouting. "I still have to do something." I told him, trying to get him to understand.

"Just drop it." He said sternly, but not shouting.

I shook my head again and raised the gun. But I didn't point it at him.

I pointed it at my temple.

His eyes widened. "Put it down!" He shouted again.

I smiled faintly. "I can't. I have to see my mom and dad. They're waiting for me, you see. They left me, and now I have to find them."

The police officer was looking at his own gun, unsure about what to do. Slowly he lowered it. "That ain't the answer kid."

"Why does everyone keep calling me a kid?"

"Because your, like, ten! You've got a life ahead of you! Don't end it now!" He pleaded.

"I'm nine." I told him numbly. "I turned nine last month. My parents took me to the ocean. I had fun." I frowned. "I don't feel nine, anymore. Why is that?" I asked.

"I don't know." He admitted. "But we can help you deal with what you're going through."

"You'd just be killed. They're always killed. So many people dead." I muttered. "My fault. My parents."

"You need help."

"I need it to stop."

Then I pulled the trigger…at least, I tried to. I couldn't get my finger to move. Tears began to fall. I was frustrated and in pain and I couldn't end it.

"Just put it down." He said calmly.

My head shot to hit and my gun was pointed at him. In an instant, his was drawn and aimed at me.

"Do it." I whispered. "Do it!" I shouted that time. The tears fell faster. "I can't do it. Do it for me. Please!" I begged him.

Again, he seemed unsure what to do with his gun.

"I want it to stop." I said. "I don't want to be a monster. I don't want to be heartless! I'm not strong enough. Please, sir, do it for me! Shoot me."

He seemed frozen.

"Kill me!" I screamed.

He lowered his gun. "No."

"You bastard." I muttered. Then I pulled the trigger again.

Boom.

Crash.

Thud.

I didn't bother to see if I had killed him or not. I stumbled to my bag, picked it up, and jogged/stumbled away.

That night I slept in an alley, memories haunting me in my sleep. They had been doing that so often as of late. After about an hour of painful sleep, I gave up. I sat in the murky alley for hours. My drunken state eventually faded and I vomited, twice. After that it was just dry heaving.

When the light came, it burned my eyes. Finally ventured out of my alley, pulling my sweatshirt hood over my head, to help block the sun.

I don't know why, but I walked back towards the motel. In front of it was a swarm of people and police officers. I approached the crowd and saw they had barricaded the area I had been just earlier that night, where the bodies lay.

Off to the side I saw a woman holding two smaller children, about my age, crying, staring at the old man I had shot last night.

"My daughter. My grandkids."

The woman was the old man's daughter. The kids were his grandchildren.

I had taken him away from them. I looked to the body of the officer. Did he too have a family? Did I rob them of him as well?

I turned and I ran as fast as I could.

I was a monster, without a doubt. How else could I so callously make other's feel what I was feeling. The loss. The pain. The anger. How could I do that? No human could do that.

Another thing was now undoubtedly true: I could not kill myself because I needed to be punished for my heartlessness. I did not have the strength to pull the trigger because I didn't deserve to be set free. This was my hell, and I would rot in it.

And I deserved to.

Consciousness returned painfully slow. Within that transitional period, I was so very aware of both my past pain, and my current pain. My regret. My shame.

I was a monster.

"Lena." I heard a familiar voice say in an unfamiliar way.

My eyes shot open. "Zack?"

In case you're a little lost…Zack saw that entire memory.