A/N:

Hey everyone! Bet you're surprised to see a new chapter for this story! I know I am. The last time I touched this story, I was a sophomore in high school, and now, 10 days before college I finally updated this. The truth is, the reason why I abandoned this story in the first place was because I didn't know where to take it. I had no idea how to weave a story centered around an OC and still have it be true to greek mythology (about which I am not very savvy) and the original text. (Rick Riordan is a genius by the way.) But then I read a few reviews by a Guest reviewer named Ginger, and they singlehandedly inspired me to do some research and continue. So rest assured, to all of you who are still reading this after three years, thank you, and even if it takes another three years, this will not be the end of Joaitha Harris!

So… I know it's short (I'm working on that :p) but enjoy!

And PLEASE let me know how I did, how I can improve, and any ideas or constructive criticism you may have for me. Like many writers on this site, along with having an opportunity to continue these stories we all enjoy, I am also here to improve the quality of my writing. So don't hold back :]

Well, I've said enough. Here's the new chapter!

Five.
"Rachel?" I asked loudly, with my eyes wide, and my jaw gaping as if someone had stuck a bowling ball in my mouth. A chill went up my spine, being that I was once again reminded of my disturbing life at Cahill.

"Please don't tell me that you're sending me to a therapist. I swear I don't need one. It was just a nightmare… and like you said, everyone here has dreams like that. Please don't do that to me…" I pleaded with him quietly and reasonably. I figured that it would be the best way to get out of going to see a stupid therapist. Or to get out of anything at all.

I'm serious. In my experience, it really works.

Try it sometime.

Anyway…I deeply resented therapists, as you might imagine, and I resented them even more than I hated my own mother. (And I bet you can't imagine that.)

At Cahill, they forced me to see one every single day. My therapist's name was Drilla Ream, and she was an old, tired woman who seemed like she wasn't all that interested in her job anymore, and was probably counting down the days to her retirement. She would interrogate me about the things I saw, like the monsters, and then she would ask how they made me feel. After a while, I would begin to lie about the monsters that attacked me just so that I wouldn't have to have sessions. Not that it really helped all that much, with someone as unmotivated as Drilla was, there's no such thing as progress.

So, the last time Drilla saw me, there was no huge fire-breathing bat hiding in my closet, waiting to eat my face. If you asked her, the most eventful thing that had gone on in my life lately was the time when I sang a wrong note in choir class, and my teacher almost stabbed me with her conductor's stick. Except it wasn't really my teacher. It was some weird-looking bird thing that I proceeded to skewer with my Joaitha penny, in front of my terror-stricken classmates. But it was all good, because as per usual they forgot about everything almost immediately. Figures.

I gripped my neck, still imagining what that would have felt like as I remembered that I wasn't at Cahill anymore. I was at Camp Something-or-other, and I'd gained two brothers who seemed to think that I was in dire need of a therapist once again.

My eyes flitted from brother to brother, wondering which one would respond first. They were both straight-faced. Their expressions were blank, until Tyson's face eventually broke out into a smile. "Rachel is nice," He said, before patting me on the shoulder. Great, I thought. That's what they always said. An ideal therapist's disposition was always "nice."

I realized that Percy was staring at me, watching me carefully. I glared at him, mentally willing him to stop making me feel like an alien invader. To my horrified surprised, he started laughing at me. My face turned red and hot, and I could tell that it wouldn't be long before I lost my temper. It took all of my might to restrain myself. Killing my half brother probably wouldn't go over well with a therapist.

Percy was chortling loudly. It was annoying. He had said something to Tyson in between laughter, but I hadn't been paying attention enough to realize what it was. Apparently the laughter was infectious, because it quickly spread to my Cyclops brother.

This only infuriated me further. "What. Is. So. Funny?" I demanded through my teeth. So this is what it was like to have brothers. It was definitely not what I'd imagined in my own little messed up world.

They continued with their rumbling laughter for another moment before Percy composed himself enough to reply. "Rachel isn't a therapist, Jo." He said. "Well, not in the modern sense of the word, anyway," I narrowed my eyes in a way that pushed him to elaborate. "She's…," He stifled another rude chuckle at my expense, "…Well, you'll see,"

I just rolled my eyes. See, what he didn't know was that I was used to having things kept from me. Yes, it bothered me, but it wasn't like I'd ever let him know. That would just make matters worse. So instead of arguing with my new brothers about how mean they were to laugh at me like this, I just stood up, turned my back, and walked out the door.

It wasn't long before I heard Percy's voice and matching footsteps catching up from behind me. "Oh no," He said with a sarcastic-looking smirk, "You are not doing this again." He grabbed my arm and started dragging me back to our cabin.

"Hey!" I yelled defensively, as I tried to yank my arm away from him. It was no use. He was too strong. When we got to the door, he finally let go, but as I tried to escape, he grabbed my shoulders firmly with his big hands.

We made a harsh eye contact. Suddenly I got the gross feeling that he was trying to be the father that we didn't really have. …Or that I never really had, at least.

I shuddered.

"I know you don't want to do this, Jo," My brother lectured. I noticed that there was some kind of fire in his green eyes that I hadn't noticed before. It was then when I realized that he wasn't fooling around anymore. "…but you have to listen to me." He paused, and I gulped. "I know this is really scary for you. It was terrifying for me too, but you can't run away from it. These things are everywhere, Jo. The monsters, and all of these problems you're having are everywhere, and they never go away. You can either run away and let them chase you, or you can stay here where you're safe and learn how to fight them. I know we just met, but Tyson and I are here for you. That's what brothers are for. But you have to trust us, Jo. We can help you,"

I swallowed, and nodded once, before silently slipping back into Cabin three. I sat down on my bed and stared down at my hands in my lap. My brothers stared at me without words. "I just don't get it," I murmured to myself, but loud enough for them to hear.

Percy sat beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Neither do we," He replied, "And that's why you need to see Rachel."