Chapter 1

Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't anything. Not Percy Jackson nor Wake me up by Avicci.

"Are you trembling?"

In reality she was. How could she not. The situation she was in was fatal. It was like a time-bomb waiting to explode.

The little hair on her arms stood up sharp and pointed. She hadn't had time to cut those in the past weeks.

"You are so scared right now. I can feel it."

As much as she tried not to, her eyes betrayed her. They shone with such powerful misery that it seemed to burn a hole through the wall. Of course, they were filled emotion of the worst kind-tears. Her eyesight became hazy due to all the water in there when she remembered her situation and she constantly had to keep her mind in focus to tear away those painful memories.

As if that was not enough, they burned too, partly due to the subsiding anger, but mainly for the salt present in them. Her eyes betrayed her when she needed them the most.

She thought that maybe that mouth of hers would keep her alive. She had thought that the full pink lips who had, till now, obeyed her command every time she ordered them too, who had displayed the very likable, contagious smile would forever remain with her.

But even they betrayed her. Honestly, all she could manage was the awkward smile, the middle portion in a slight pout, the adjacent dropping down while the corners maintained their dignity in the slight upward direction, but barely with the dimples not showing.

All in all, her two main features, had betrayed her. Her usually sharp tongue too.

The only thing that remained with her was her brain.

Or had it also found a new master, making her think this way, manipulating her?

Was this all in her head, making her feel that everything was in her control when nothing was?

"Oh my! Never did I dream of you becoming a dumb."

I stayed silent because I had no answer. Never had this happened to me. Was I truly me?

I don't know what has become of me. I had been here for weeks, or was it? Was it only a week or has a year passed since he had brought me here?

Oh well! Nobody expected me to remember. I had been drugged every time I said something. So that explains my unwillingness to speak. I don't remember much just that he usually made me eat my food from time to time. I had missed a couple of meals. Sometimes, I was forced to eat lunch and miss the dinner and breakfast. The hunger and thirst had got me.

"Dear me, have you looked at yourself recently? You could end this quickly, you know. Just tell me all that you know about it. Then I could let you free."

"I don't know anything!" I protested. This happened to me every single day that I had been here. Always the same thing. He asked me to spill and I didn't know what to spill.

I flinched knowing what was to come next.

His hand came forcefully in contact with my rough cheek. Tears flew out of my eyes and I couldn't stop them. I was not in control. I was not myself. He had broken me, physically, mentally and emotionally.

Think of me as crazy but I treasured those slaps. The way his hands touched my skin, sent a thousand volt current through was body, seeping like the warmth of an old friend in the hot June summers. The tingles it sent down my spine. My eyes always searched for some familiarity in his face, a sign of a human being but I didn't see any. He was always covered with black. His eyes had huge sunglasses covering them, his face had a black cloth wrapped around him like a dacoits', and his body was wrapped in a black shirt and black jeans. The only visible thing was his hair and Gods were those familiar, like a part of my own body, my own soul.

Somehow I had fallen in love with my captor. Every day he came in for hours. He talked to me. He spent more time with me that anyone else had ever done intentionally, unintentionally. I loved his voice, kind of like a deep rumble, but they managed to soothe me, make me believe that everything was all right.

I tried to remind myself that these thoughts were wrong, that he was wrong, his way of treating me was wrong, that this whole deed was wrong.

But no matter what, I, for once, didn't listen to the correct part. Life had told me that I was not happy, when everything I did was correct; and now, when everything about me was wrong, I loved myself and my life.

I was far too gone.

He turned me round my seat roughly, making me face the mirror, which I had come to despise.

"See that, that's what you have become. Weren't you a fighter?"

But I held my eyes closed, my head hung low.

"See that, that's what's left of you. Gone is the pretty face and the princess curls, the witty replies and the easy go-lucky attitude," he whispered lightly to himself. This is what confuses me. It almost seems like he knows me, knew me at least. I can't remember who he is. And maybe I don't want to. I wish to live in oblivion, something that I had always feared. Life would pass me by if I don't open my eyes; and that's fine by me.

But then he stiffens his posture tight. My torturer was back. He stood up from where he was sitting on his knees by my wooden chair to behind me and went behind me. His hands came down from all the way above my head and made its way up across my body from my waist up, inside my shirt.

He fingered all the bruises on my stomach. "You don't like this, do you? Tell me and I'll stop, or I'll be forced to continue." His voice was sharp and clear but his fingers told a whole different story. They shuddered against my cuts. This time, he was trembling. But why was he afraid? He had me under his thumb.

But I remembered: Curiosity killed the cat.

He had said that when I had first questioned him.

She would have said anything else but this but there was no other way.

"I don't know anything," my voice was so weak that I was disgusted by it.

His hand, when they came right between my chest, tightened into a ball and ejected from there.

As much as I was scared from him, he hadn't once tried to come at me that way. In a way, I trusted him more than anybody else in my life because at least he was honest about his intentions regarding me.

But when his hand ejected, a chill settled on me. I had liked the feeling he gave me. It was...unexplainable; like total bliss.

It was like he took all the pain away from her and into him.

Then he yanked her head up and forced her eyes open, making her look at her reflection.

Someone stared back at her. She saw a small girl with big, dull grey eyes but dark bags underneath them, with hollowed in cheeks. The cheeks were red, rough and dry. The lips were almost white and cracked. Her forehead had gashes on them. The hair was cut short and choppy, the shine and glow all gone.

Was this her?

Was this Annabeth Chase?

Was this all that was left of the sexy Annabeth Chase?

We looked odd it the bright white room, him with his black attire, me all battered and bruised, in the dark when all around me was light.

Wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and am older. Life would pass me by if I don't open my eyes; and that's fine by me.

"This is what is left of you, Annabeth," he said softly.

-X—X-X—X—X—X-X—X-X—X-X-X—X-X-X-X-X—X-X—X-X- - - x

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