"I love you, you know that Percy?"

I smile up at mommy, her silky brown hair falling around my face in wavy curtains. Her sparkling blue eyes lovingly watched me as I squirmed in my position on her lap.

"I know mommy!" I chirped at her, her warm smile filled me with happiness.

"Good," she laughed, bending down to rub noses with me, making me giggle, her trident necklace fell from beneath her shirt," I just want you to know, I'm not going away because I want to, but because I'm sick."

I could feel the sting of tears prick my eyes, but I didn't want to make mommy sad just because I was, so I smiled up at her.

"I know mommy. I still love you though!"

I could see the anguish flicker in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip, holding back tears. Before I knew it, she was hugging me tightly, running her fingers through my hair.

"You need to stay with your stepdad sweetie," she whispered, sniffling.

"I don't like him mommy! He smells like smoke and other gross stuff," I complained, struggling in her arms," why can't I stay with daddy?"

More sniffles reached my ears," because sweetie, daddy is with his other family. If he didn't have to be, he would take you in a heartbeat, but we can't bother him with our problems."

I didn't understand what that meant, so I grabbed angry fistfuls of mommies shirt," I hate daddy."

"Sssh, no you don't sweetie, you're just upset, but you'll understand when you're older. I promise," mommy chided me, wagging her finger.

I pouted looking away from her.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

My eyes shot open, and I saw the familiar sight of a cracked and yellowed ceiling a few feet over me. The dream faded quickly from my memory as I held up my mother's necklace, twirling it between two fingers.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

I heard a yell from the other room.

"SHUT THAT FUCKIN ALARM OFF!"

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my old and moth-eaten pajama shirt, ignoring the yell. I know it's a bad idea, but I don't care.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

"I hate you, you know that Jackson?" A very angry and slightly slurred voice growled from my doorway.

"I know Gabe," I Grimaced as my stepdad grit his teeth and stepped closer, grabbing the alarm clock, ripping it from the wall. I shoved my mother's necklace back under my shirt.

"Then why the fuck are you stupid enough to get on my goddamn nerves?!" He shouted, taking the alarm clock, and bashing me over the head with it; making me yelp in pain.

"How. Many. Fuckin. Times. Do. I. Gotta. Do. This. Until you learn," he panted, hitting me at each word, harder and harder each time.

Stars danced in my vision as I weakly held my arms up, trying to ward off his assault in vain.

He scoffed mockingly, shoving my arms, and they collided painfully with the wall," that ain't gonna help you, you little shit."

Gabe continued the beating until he was red in the face and my body was bruised all over. It's a near miracle I haven't passed out, or that my alarm clock didn't just shatter. He stumbled out of the room, mumbling and panting about getting a beer.

I slowly push myself up, barely able to see through my eyes. One had crusted over with blood, and the other was nearly shut, with a nasty purple bruise.

'I love you mommy.'

My voice from the dream echoed in my head painfully, and for a split second I wonder if I still do. She had left me all alone with no one but my step father and his never ending string of beatings. Then the thought had come and gone, and I feel ten times worse than any beating could ever make me feel. Because I've just betrayed my mothers love again.

I reach under my pillow, hand wrapping around the smooth handle of a knife I had taken from the kitchen a few weeks ago. The blade dully glinted in the morning light of the bedroom, and sent a glare over my eyes.

I consider the knife for a second, wondering if I should use it on myself, or Smelly Gabe. But my arms begin to tremble, and I know I'm still to weak today. I sigh, stowing the knife under my pillow.

When I Stand from my dilapidated bed, my legs nearly give out, but I manage to right myself and stumble to the bathroom. I walk past the mirror, not bothering to look, and I slip my pajamas off.

The cold laminate of the shower floor turns my feet into painful chips of ice, but I grunt past the sharp sting in my feet. At first, scalding water hits my bruised face, making me wince, but thankfully the cold water evens out the temperature; making me sigh.

'At least we still have hot water,' I think, gathering the droplets in my hands, splashing my blood encrusted left eye.

At first it didn't want to pry open, but after long seconds of gentle scrubbing, it opened and I had nearly full vision. My right eye will be bruised for a while, and in the next few days it will shut completely, so I'll need the left one.

I grabbed the bottle of extremely cheap shampoo and rub the liquid into my hair, cleaning the dirt and blood that had stained it a rusty brown.

'I wish my hair was mom's color,' I think sadly, as black strands begin to emerge and fall around my head in soggy clumps.

A few minutes pass and I start to delude myself into thinking I can take a bit longer of a shower today. But I know Gabe will get angrier if the water bill is too high, so I turn the knobs cutting the water off.

I step out, realizing I didn't bring new clothes. There are no towels, so I just pull on my old pajama bottoms for the moment and dry my hair with the pajama shirt.

"Get out of that fucking bathroom," Gabe roared in my face just as I opened the door. His beer breath washed into my nostrils making me nauseous.

"I am," I sigh, looking down from his bloodshot eyes, and retreating to my room.

"That's right you little shit run away! Just like your-" I shut my door, muffling his shouts, and giving me a moderate amount of silence.

"Dad," I whisper, finishing Gabe's shouted insult.

I'd never met my father, the only parents I've ever known my whole life have been my mom and my step dad. But he's not exactly a very good example.

It really said a lot about my life so far that my only parental figures have been my angelic mother and now smelly Gabe with his beatings, drinking, poker games, and yelling. I'm currently one for two in good roll models in my life.

I sat up from my bed, my mother's necklace dangling around my neck, and opened my bedside dresser; pulling a tattered blue shirt out.

"At least it still looks like a shirt," I mumble, pulling on a pair of equally ragged boxers and pants. Most of the clothes I wore came from Gabe's work, so they weren't exactly in good shape, even when I had first received them. Not a lot of clothes in the lost and found of an electronics store were brand new, or smelled very good for that matter.

I sighed, sitting on my bed, stiffening when I heard a loud chorus of adults opening the apartment door. Bottles of what I can only assume to be beer clink in the cacophony, making my stomach sink in dread.

'Gabe's playing poker tonight?'

I quickly start to pull on socks, but looking around I remember the last time I'd come back to the apartment from getting groceries, I had left my shoes by the kitchen door. Walking around New York in nothing but socks was basically begging to get cuts and bruises, along with numerous amounts of infections.

Thankfully, it was the middle of July, and it would be fairly warm out, but even if it was, New York was already a harsh place to walk around for adults, let alone kids like me.

A bang on my bedroom door startled me," hey, brat! I don't have anything to play with, I'm using you again!"

My heart dropped into my stomach, making me feel violently ill. Thankfully, I hadn't eaten, so I didn't vomit all over the floor,' I bet that would make smelly Gabe even more cheerful.'

"Come the fuck out here, or I'm taking the fucking door off again," he thundered, making me shake violently.

"O-Okay," I stutter, opening the door, and seeing Gabe staring at me with alcohol muddled eyes.

"Next time I tell you to open the god damn door, you open it."

A sharp slap made my ears ring, and my teeth ache on the side it landed. Smelly Gabe grabbed my arm and yanked me into the living room, where a poker table had been set up.

A group of people Percy had seen very often when Gabe played poker, sat at the table; Eddie, the apartment complex's superintendent, two more meatheads whose names I didn't bother learning, and a woman named Janet. She was maybe a few years younger than mom would have been today.

I hate looking at her. Her hair is a dark brown, nearly the same shade as mom's, and her slender frame reminded me of how thin mom had gotten before she died. But where mom had a soft and beautiful delicacy to her face, Janet had a severe pointed glare that always sent shivers down Percy's spine.

"You seriously using the kid again Gabe," Eddie asked, looking very uncomfortable," he's just ten ain't he?"

"Eleven. And the little shit has to earn his keep somehow, and if that means helpin me get a little scratch in card games, then he better damn well not complain."

Gabe pulled me along, and sat down in his seat at the table, making me stand in place beside him.

"Same rules as always," Gabe glowered at everyone at the table," you guys use cash, I use the kid. You beat me, you get to use the kid however you want for however many hands I lose to you."

I secretly wish that they would just call off this game, but I know they almost never do. If nothing else, I hope Eddie will win all of Gabe's hands, but out of all the times they've played with these rules, he's only won two or three times. And I was grateful for every time he did, because he would just let me leave the table to stay in my room for a few hours.

But that was never the best option for me. The first time Eddie had won two hands from Gabe I went back to my room. I had fallen asleep, only to be woken up two hours later being beaten by one of the nameless meat heads. He hit me for a long time before he was satisfied and went back to the poker game.

After that, one of the other nameless meatheads got an hour with me and it had been far worse than a beating. When that had happened I thought things couldn't be any worse, but then Janet had won and somehow it was ten times worse than being touched by the second nameless meathead. She had deliberately asked Gabe about my mom, and acted like her before doing the exact same thing as the second meathead.

'I want to leave,' I think hollowly, my legs shaking and my small hand wrapping reflexively around my mom's necklace. The game continued.

Before long, my mind wandered and I stopped paying attention. I know it isn't the smartest thing to do, but I've never claimed to be very smart.

My eyes focus on a bug scurrying across the ceiling, as it scuttled, it seemed to sense my gaze making a break for a crack in the corner. I am brought out of my observation by a hand wrapping around my wrist. I look up in dread as Janet glowers down at me with a wolfish smile.

'Oh no.'

My eyes widen and I turn my head to Eddie, pleading for him to help, but he turns away in shame; looking at his beer bottle.

"Come on Perce, I'll show you a real good time, like always," Janet whispered lowly in my ear, making a shiver run down my spine and the acidic taste of vomit to build up in my throat.

"N-no," I whisper, my fingers scrabbling at her hand on my wrist. But she payed me no mind and yanked me back toward my room.

'Why did I have to wake up to this?" My mind raced as I think frantically for ways to escape this situation.

The door opened and she tossed my small body onto the bed, her previously stoic features twisted into a grin of pure malice. Janet started to approach me, and I crawled backward, my back slamming painfully into the corner behind me.

"Come on kid," she growled in a way that she might think was a purr," you know there's nowhere to go from here."

'But that's not true,' a small voice in my head whispered,' the window.'

My eyes widen in realization as my head jerks to the left, gaze resting on the windowsill.

Janet's eyes follow mine and she shook her head laughing," I'm not gonna let you get out that way Perce."

"M-My name is P-Percy!" I shout, startling her for a second before she lunges at me.

She isn't a particularly large woman, but I'm just eleven years old and her weight crushes me to my bed. Her hands start to claw at my shirt and pants.

"N-NO," I screamed, my hands flailing, and tears prickling my eyes. My pillow, bedsheets, and comforter flew in all directions. As I struggled my hand landed on something; smooth, cool, and light. My hand closed around it, and I brought it up to slam into her.

A moment of stillness startled me. Then a smatter of something hot and sticky hit my face. It tasted metallic and thick, filling my mouth with a horrifying taste.

'Blood,' I looked up and saw the knife I had kept under my pillow. The smooth handle was familiar, but where the blade had been was now gone, in its place was a red seeping wound in Janet's side; burying the blade up to the handle.

"I-I couldn't— I d-didn't want—" my voice quavered as my heavy breathing and pounding heart leave no room for other sounds in my world. I can see the door rattling on its hinges as someone batters away at it.

My arms move for a reason I can't understand, and my legs pull me over to the window. The lock is latched, but the rusted metal shatters as my frantic arms slam the frame up against it. The window slams open, allowing access to the fire escape.

A pair of bloody hands grip my tattered blue shirt, and make me flinch as my eyes meet Janet's. Her eyes are filled with fury, surprise, and fear.

For a moment, I want to laugh in her face, call her every name I've ever been called. Then I see her fear, and I'm reminded of every single glance I catch of myself in a mirror, and I want to help. But then I remember what would've happened if I hadn't stabbed her, and I push her weak arms away as I scurry onto the fire escape.

My legs work furiously, pounding against the iron of the stairs as I descend. The shouting voices of morning commuters drown out any sounds from the apartment above, making me glad I lived in New York.

I'm just a few feet from the bottom of the fire escape when I hear Gabe roaring from above.

"I'll KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

My knees tremble as I reach the ground, and I stare up looking to see Gabe gazing down at me furiously, his luxurious main of three hairs billowing in the wind. In that moment, despite my terror and horror at what I had done, the face Smelly Gabe was making made me laugh and whoop in excited fear as I ran further from the apartment.

Three Months Later

Tired. That was all I felt.

Tired was a short sweet description of my entire life after fleeing Smelly Gabe's apartment. I was tired after running for five blocks straight, I was tired after walking around aimlessly with nowhere to go, and I was tired of all the looks people kept giving me.

I couldn't really blame people for looking at me funny though, after the first few weeks of living on the streets I was very filthy. My shirt, pants, and socks had already had holes all over them, and now they were basically nothing but holes. Thankfully, after the second week I had managed to find a discarded backpack in a dumpster behind an office supply store, and filled it with clothes from another dumpster behind a clothing store.

Even though I had a decent amount of clothes stowed in the backpack currently slung over my shoulder, I just couldn't part with the clothes I had run away in. It was like I was clinging to the old Percy I had been, and afraid to embrace the new Percy.

It didn't help my birthday had been only a few weeks after leaving the apartment, and I was lucky enough to spend the night under an overpass; filled with other homeless people.

Now here I was, a filthy twelve year old roaming the streets of New York, looking for a place to camp for the night. Heck, maybe I'd even get lucky and find a place for the next few days.

I walked along, my eyes roaming up and down the street. I couldn't remember if I was on West seventy sixth street or seventy fifth, but I had passed a women's cosmetics shop and could see Central Park in the distance. Rows of buildings on my left and right lined the street, at the end I spotted what seemed to be an abandoned house on the left corner of the street.

When I finally stopped in front of the cracked and blackened brick of the house, I realized why it was abandoned.

'Fire?'

The brick was scorched black, the shingled tar tiled roof was melted and filled with holes, the windows were either shattered or blackened, and the door had been torn from the hinges. In the door's place were a number of boards crossing the front door in such a volume that any person, even a few years older than me, couldn't fit through.

'No,' I sighed, shacking my head.

I had tried staying in burnt buildings a few times, and it never went well. Either I would wake up with soot crusted eyes that stung for hours, or the floor underneath me would fall through in the middle of the night. Not to mention if other people ventured inside and found me.

I was turning away, about to head down the right street, when I heard something. A small noise that sounded familiar at first, and then grew quieter until I didn't hear it again. When I was turning away again it started up, leaving no doubt to what I had silently thought, but was not sure I had heard. Crying.

The voice was small and soft, but loud enough that it carried through the house and to the entrance where I stood. I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to just leave, after all normal people didn't just walk into a boarded up burnt house to cry. But then a flash of something gold caught my eye, and my head followed it.

The gold streak flew past the entrance doorway and fled further into the house. Against my better judgment, and common sense, my ADHD pushed me forward.

'Curiosity might have killed the cat, but I think ADHD is gonna kill the Percy,' I thought to myself morosely, as I squeezed myself under the wooden boards.

The interior of the house was just as dilapidated as the outside, but I could tell now that the fire damage wasn't old, but must have happened in the last few months, if not earlier in the year. I stooped down, picking up a blackened family photo of a man with sandy blond hair, a woman with bright golden hair and grey eyes, and a portion of what had been a little girl between them. I couldn't make out her features because the fire had burned her away, but I could see the ruffles of what looked like a gray dress.

I looked at the photo, feeling sorry for the family, hoping they had all made it out when a loud creak and more sobs trailing up the stairs startled me. The floor leading to the stairs was remarkably unharmed, compared to the state of the now deeply burned wooden stairs.

I approached, putting an experimental foot on the stoop of the stairs, sighing gratefully when it didn't immediately shatter. I shifted my weight, allowing my foot to plant all of my weight into the step. It held fast.

I ascended the stairs, one careful step at a time, and all the while I came closer and closer to the sound of a girl crying.

The upper floor was as badly burned as the ground floor, but thankfully the floor hadn't collapsed yet. I approached the door, on it was a homemade name plate that had artful adornments of owls, books, and a name that I could only make out the "A" and "n" of. I pushed the door open, not knowing what to expect.

The room seemed simple and was decorated sparsely with burnt knickknacks. On one wall however, there was an expansive bookshelf lined with more books than I had ever seen in Smelly Gabe's apartment and electronic store combined. It was impressive, even if they were all burnt by the fire.

A rattling sob startled me from my thoughts, and I turned to the source. On the burnt-out box spring of a twin-size bed sat a girl. Her golden blonde hair was in elegant waves of princess curls that made her seem small in comparison. Her small body was shaking with sorrow as she curled her arms around herself, making my heart sink in empathetic misery. Her small frame was wrapped in a thin gray summer dress that fell to her delicate thighs.

"H-Hello," I called out hesitantly, not wanting the girl to be to startled. But she continued to sob making me worried.

"Hello?"

The girl sniffled, wiping her hands against her eyes, and she glared at me. Her dull gray eyes turned to a sheet of steel as she muttered to herself," another one."

The girls feet tapped soundlessly against the burnt floor as she stood from where she sat on the box spring mattress.

"Why do you people keep coming into my house when it looks the way it does? Is it fun for you to get a kick out of my families misery, or is it fun to break windows and smash bottles in a burnt pile of my broken dreams?" The girl was extremely angry as she hissed out the last few words in my face, startling me greatly.

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter," I j-just heard you crying f-from outside, and I wanted to see if you were okay."

Her face fell into a shocked and wide eyed expression of utter astonishment as she looked from side to side and behind her," are- are you talking to me?"

I frowned looking at her, " what? Who else would I be talking to?"

The girl's dull steel eyes slowly shimmered as unshed tears filled her eyes and she rushed forward. Her arms were icily cold, making me shiver as they circled my waste. Hoarfrost coated my shirt where her arms met the fabric, where her tears fell they left frozen trails.

"Jeez! Why are you so cold," I shuddered, reflexively wrapping my arms around her, rubbing her cold shoulders. She seemed to warm, bit by bit, as my hands raked across her shoulders, but just as suddenly as she had rushed me she was retreating back to the box spring.

"You shouldn't be able to see me, let alone touch me," she fussed about, tugging on one of her curls as she paced back and forth," who are you?"

Percy tugged at his shirt, breaking away the lair of frost," I'm Percy. And why wouldn't I be able to see you? You're just a girl, it's not like you're a ghost," I laughed, stepping forward nervously.

Her eyes seemed to stare through me for a moment, and then a small sad smile broke her porcelain features," I am though."

My brain short circuited, like one of those old school computers they're always too cheap to replace. I could practically hear the windows start up noise, and the gears in my head whirring in thought.

"No," I said firmly, making the girls sad smile drop into a confused and slightly agitated frown.

"What do you mean 'no'? That's not how that works. I am a ghost, it's not up for debate," she huffed, slapping her foot down on the old charred wood of the bedroom.

"Ghosts aren't real," I chuckled, walking over to the girl," besides how could I see you if you were?"

"I-I don't know. Other people can't see me," the girl stepped forward, her feet brushing the cracked and blackened floor with not a single sound. It was unsettling.

"T-There's no way you're a ghost, come on stop messing around," I laughed, stepping toward her too.

We were barely a few inches apart, my face was right in front of hers, and I marveled at the penetrating glare she was giving me. She looked like an adult who was scolding a child.

"Well, I'm the ghost here, so I think I'm kind of the authority on the subject."

Up close I could see the small chips of blue in her gray eyes, they dotted her eyes, like patches of lapis against bare granite. The glow of her skin was unnatural, and eerie in the shadowed scorched room. Her feet were

"Well… you're something, but I don't know if you're a ghost." I shifted on my feet, worried that the girl was unwell mentally, and then I realized something odd.

Her feet were bare.

No shoes, no socks, just bare pale feet amid a sea of blackened floor boards. They were small and delicate, but there was no sign she had been walking around without shoes. Her feet were spotless.

'Freaky.'

The girl huffed, and promptly walked through the wall to my left. She didn't walk past me through the door, or through a large hole that had been burned in a wall. She just… walked through a wall. I ran a hand over the rough surface, the peeling wallpaper making a brittle cracking noise under my palm.

Her head appeared from inside the wall, and she looked, for all intents and purposes, like a severed head mounted on a wall.

"See? Ghost."

I just stared, dumbfounded.