Clarisse sat at her lunch table in silence. She hated the way she was treated. Everyone just assumed her life was perfect, but it wasn't. Her life would always be the thing that couldn't be understood by anyone but herself. Her life was so far from perfect, that it wasn't even in the same ball park.

She never got to see her mom, not that she wanted to really. She was going through another tour in some country she could never hope to spell. Her mom was some kind of hero or something, like her father would care. She never really got to go home to a warm family home, and a mother who makes hot chocolate when it's cold. No, she had the mother who would beat the crap out of anyone who dared to touch her daughter. The one that scared every child away from her and her child.

At Christmas time Clarisse was never able to go home. She was always stuck at camp with the other campers who couldn't leave. She would never be able to go home and open presents early on Christmas morning with her mom. She would never be able to see her mothers smile as she opens the present Clarisse had bought her. She would never be able to believe in Santa. She would never be able to have a normal happy family, and it broke her heart.

Clarisse never really got a chance to be loved, and she tried to act like she was ok with that, even though it wasn't. She tried to pull a tough guy act when she felt like she was feeling unsafe with her emotions. It was a defence mechanism. It was just something that came out, it was her fight or flight. She always chose fight.

Everyone just though she was an Ares thug, and was a cruel human being if there ever was one. But that wasn't really true. She was guarded with her feelings, always keeping them at a safe distance.

"Hey Clarisse!" Leo yelled coming over to her.

"What?" she asked harshly.

"Will just called in sick, funny huh, but anyway you're up for telling a campfire story. You up for it?" Leo asked her with a laugh. "I can always..."

"Shut up, I'll do it." she told him. And she knew exactly what story she would tell.

Clarisse sat down in front of everyone. They were all giving her bored looks, as if this was the last place they wanted to be. Which she couldn't blame them, campfire was boring.

"Today I tell you the story of a girl who isn't who everyone think she is. Tonight I tell you about a girl who went through a ton of crap she didn't deserve. Tonight I tell you a story about a fighter who won't stop fighting."

Nine years ago, a seven-year old girl went to her first day of school. She wasn't happy about it, but she went anyway. Her mom had done her hair into a braid, and had picked out a pretty pair of jean and a pink fluffy t-shirt. The mom made sure the girl had a nice packed lunch, and a big backpack for all her stuff. The little girl faked being excited just for her mom to feel better.

When she got to school she didn't want to talk to anyone. That's when it all started to go down hill. The kids there were cruel; relentless. They made sure her day was always miserable.

In first grade They made her life miserable by gang up on her and stealing her stuff. They'd yell at her for being to big and huge. They'd call her any horrible name a first grader can think of, or heard of. They'd took her lunch when she wasn't looking. They'd never get in trouble, because in the eyes of the teacher they were perfect, and that the girl would always be a problem.

In second grade nothing really changed. The same kids would do the same things to her as they did the year before. They still took her lunch, and they still called her horrible things. The teachers would call the girl a liar. She never got help from anyone, not even the ones who were there to help her.

In the third grade is when the physical abuse started from her fellow class mates. They would trip her as she walked by their desk, causing her to skin her knee and twist her ankle. They would push her off the swing just so they could take her place. They would elbow her in the stomach just so they could win a game. The teacher only saw her as clumsy kid who couldn't walk two feet without falling on her face.

It continued to get worse, and by seventh grade year she was done with it all. And no one would do anything about it. She'd try to hide, but they'd always find her. She tried getting help, but no one ever believed her. She tried to get some attention, but it would always come out the wrong way.

One day she lost it. One of the girls, Heather Smith, jabbed her in the stomach.

"What is your problem!" The girl yelled. She stepped away from Heather with an angered look. She crossed her arms in defiance.

"What's your problem? Did you lose a few brain cells? You don't talk to me." Heather laughed. "You're just some nobody who no one cares about!"

The girl stepped back. She couldn't believe that she had to listen to this. "Really? Because what right do you have to be talking to me?" The girl barked. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you? Do you know that in a few year you'll be some stupid girl who is stuck without a job? You're useless after you get out of this school, and you know it."

Heather was shocked. No one had ever said anything like this to her, but she wasn't going to let it show. "Yea, but I still have six more years to make your life a living hell!" Heather couldn't help but snort. "Now move it before I make you."

The girl turned to see she was blocking the gym door. They must have already been sent to the locker rooms to change. "No."

"What did you just say to me?" Heather said with attitude.

"You heard me. I wonder what miss perfect will be after she's late to class." The girl laughed. "And don't even try to get past me. Your not even strong enough to beat up a kindergartner. I would know, considering all you do to me is basically tickle me!"

Heather could feel her face heat. "You are so dead!"

Heather charged at the girl, and just as she had predicted, she missed. The girl punch Heather in the gut and threw her against a wall. She then dropped Heather on he back-end.

"Leave me alone, or you'll see more of where that came from!" The girl growled as the teacher came in.

The female gym teacher gave off a soft squeak as she saw them. The girl hadn't noticed how bad Heather looked until the teacher uttered the noise. Heather had a split lip, which she had no idea how that had happened. Heather was doubled over groaning in pain at the not visible bruises forming on her stomach. She had a cut on her arm, which wasn't too deep, but it was still bleeding. Heather's face had a bruise on her left cheek, and must have had a minor concussion from the looks of it.

"What happened here?" The teacher uttered as she stepped closer to the scene in front of her.

"She beat me up! I didn't even do anything! She blocked the exit, and when I asked her to move she punched me!" Heather told her fake tale.

The teacher couldn't do anything but freeze. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. "Is this true?" She asked the girl.

"No! She was laughing me! She's been doing it for years! Why can't anyone freaking see that she's a monster!" the girl yelled.

"I don't approve of your tone missy! Now, I don't know what you mean, Heather here is a model student. Maybe you should learn something from her." the teacher scolded.

That's when the dam burst. "Ok, I can have that arranged." the girl said and punch Heather in the face. The women didn't know what she'd just created. If she wanted the girl to act more like Heather, she would.

All she could do was smile as her teacher ran to Heather to get her up. Heck, she even burst out laughing. She was right though, nobody cared about her. Now she could make them. She could make them care because they would have to punish her.

"Go to the office now!" her teacher yelled.

"Gladly!" she laughed, this was too easy.

Over the years she changed. She became a demon at her new school after being expelled. She didn't take anything from anyone any more. She was free to do the exact same thing Heather did to her years ago. Make someone's life a living hell.

No one dared to move an eyelash as Clarisse stood up to walk to her cabin. Everyone could tell that this as not a thing to ask about. It was a memory that hadn't been alive for years for the speaker. It was a darkened memory.

"What about her happy ending?" asked a seven year old boy. He was still too young to understand what true happiness was.

"Some people take their time to learn how to be happy. Sometimes a person never really gets the ending they wish they could have. But they get what they need." Clarisse explained to the little camper as she looked over at Chris and her friends.

"Oh." he muttered under his breath.

Clarisse walked out before anyone could ask her what she'd just told them. She didn't want to all the questions just yet. Not until everyone gave her some breathing room.

Clarisse sat on the beach waiting for time to disappear. She didn't really plan on going back to camp anytime soon. She didn't really care for all the pity faces she would be getting. She didn't want to walk into camp to see the Stoll brothers with a wide grin on their faces.

Someone sat down next to her. When she looked the first thing she noticed were bright sea green eyes. Percy sat down next to her Indian style. His hair was messy as usual. He had on the camp shirt and jeans, which sank in the sand. But what really got to her was the look on his face. It was the look of understanding. The look that if you saw, you knew that you weren't alone.

"Great story tonight Clarisse. I don't think half of them would understand, how could they?' He turned to look her in the eyes. "What people go through isn't the same, but it can be similar."

She nodded as she looked into his eyes. She knew exactly what he was going to say next, and she didn't want to hear it. But it turned out she was wrong.

"My step dad was a jerk, you know? Everyday I came home from school, he would always be here. He had a job, but if he ever went to it was a mystery. It seemed to be his mission to make my life Tartarus. He knew exactly what to say to punch my nerves to the max. He was able to make me cry. How many times have you seen me cry?" Percy muttered.

"Once?"

"Exactly! He was one of the only people who could do that. He always made my mother work around the house for him. She had to get two jobs to cover the rent. It was horrible, but my mom did that to protect me. She never once thought of herself." Percy continued.

"I'm sorry." was all Clarisse could come up with.

Percy stood up. "I didn't come here for pity. I came here for answers. You never did say what the name of the girl was, did you? Tell me."

"It was me." She stated. "I was the little girl."

A moment of silence enveloped the pair. "So I guess we're more alike than we though?"