This is probably gonna suck and this is my first time using second person pov so be nice. Remember to check out my poll and profile and stuff too! This story is basically a boy meets girl type of thing but with a few twists. *Cough-read the title-Cough* Very suggestive terms but nothing graphic. And yes, I'm keeping it rated T. PURPOSELY OOC, AN AU FIC BY THE WAY!

THIS IS THE OLD VERSION! THE NEW VERSION IS IN FIRST PERSON AND A MILLION TIME BETTER!

Don't Look Down On Me

Chapter 1: Her Bruises

The day you met Annabeth was the day you'll remember forever, it was also the day you realized that just because someone's a prostitute, doesn't mean that person is bad or cheap. You full on recognize the fact that that realization changed your life. For better or for worse? You're still working on the answer for that one.

It was an average day, you're life's undeniably boring. You know you can do better than running a summer camp, although it is lots of fun. You wish that you could make something better of yourself, that's what was expected of you. You wish that you could prove yourself to the man that made your life a living hell, show him that you're not worthless. Even if you are.

You're walking to your apartment, not in the mood to use the disgusting bus. Normally, you smile and enjoy the hustle and bustle of the New York streets but you're just not in the mood. You frustratingly push the black hair from in front of your eyes, it makes it impossible to see. You promise yourself that you will get a haircut sometime during the week, you remember later that you never did get that much needed haircut.

You're walking past the restraunt of one of your best friends, Thalia, and something catches your eye. A small figure is hidden in the shadow of the building, you walk toward it warily, nervous of what it might be. You realize it's a young girl, about 20ish years old, your age. She's unconscious on the ground, you can't really see what she looks like but you know it's a girl judjing by the curves of her tiny body and the length of her hair.

You gasp as you see how horrible she looks, she's unhealthily thin but it's actually really attractive. You pick her up gently, testing her weight, she couldn't weigh more than 100 pounds. You swallow hard as you catch sight of a small patch of her skin, it was tan but covered in bruises. You know you can't just leave her, so you quickly scoop her tightly in your arms and rush to the front door of Thalia's. It's a Sunday night at 7 o'clock, needless to say, it was closed.

You look down at her, her breathing was shallow and pained. You gather your will and run as fast as you can the three blocks to your apartment. You're inside your apartment in seconds and you gently set the girl down on your couch. You're not sure what to do so you rush to the bathtub and fill it to the brim with hot water. You run to the girl, undress her, pick her back up (making sure you're eyes don't go below her hips), and set her in the water.

She stirs for a second and breathes a sigh of relief as the water rushes over her, but she doesn't wake. You're undescribley grateful that she was so dirty that the water turns dark and you can't see in it. You use a cup to wash her hair, and use your fingers to untangle it. You're startled when you see that she has gorgeous blonde hair, you're even more startled when she's completely clean and you see that she's extremelly beautiful.

You pull her out of the water before getting her a towel, you don't want to risk her drowning. You slowly dry her off, being careful of her bruises. You are shocked greatly when you first see how many scars she has and the "love bites" all over her skin, but you didn't realize at the time what she was, exactly.

You dress her in your own clothes, hers are way to dirty to be recognizable, let alone worn. You use your favorite brush to soften her hair, it was amazing looking when well kept. She looks exactly like a Californian girl, it's actually quite apparent by the looks of her skin and light colored hair.

You lay her down on your bed and go cook your best dish-ramon noodles. You figure the hot soup would help her relax, and hoped it would help you calm your nerves. You walk back to your bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, balancing the tray of noodles and drinks of your nightstand.

You push the hair gently out of her face and shake her as softly as you can, but this time when she stirs, she wakes up, she looks up at you and you can see surprise cross her face. At first you thought it was an illusion but on closer inspection, you realize her eyes were, in fact, a serious gray color.

You think of something brilliant and perfect to say to her but what comes out of your mouth instead is, "Good morning, sunshine." You close your eyes and sigh furiously at yourself for being so stupid. "I mean...how are you doing?"

She looks at you with not fear in her eyes, but determination and willingness. "Who are you, and where am I?" she asks slowly. Her voice soft yet dangerous, it had a feminist-like ring to it.

"I'm Percy, Percy Jackson. You're at my house," you answer soothingly. "Well, actually, you're at my apartment. You were unconscious and sick looking and I couldn't just leave you there."

She was tense and her eyes size you up, as if she was willing to fight her way out if it came down to it. She slowly relaxed bit by bit, but it was obvious she wouldn't be letting her guard down anytime soon. "I'm Annabeth, Annabeth Chase," she said.

"I, uh, brought you some food. It's not much but I can't really cook, like, at all." you laugh nervously and hand her the tray, she hesitates, then brings the spoon to her mouth. You watch with fascination as her mouth curves around the spoon, her lips were the perfect color of pink.

"Would you stop staring at me?" she demanded.

You drop your gaze, only gazing at her when you thought she wasn't looking or when it was acceptable. "Oh, um, sorry..." you say implyingly because you already forgot her name.

"Annabeth," she reminds you.

"Annabeth," you say to yourself. "That's a cool name."

"I guess," she shrugs. "Wait, what am I wearing? These aren't my clothes."

"Yeah, well, your clothes are pretty much dead, so yeah."

"Did you give me a bath?" she asks, you hear a dangerous tone in her voice.

"I had to, you should have seen you."

"So you took off my clothes and bathed me, and you don't even know me. Are you really that perverted?" she asks in disgust.

You feel your own eyes harden as you look into hers with just as much ice. "Maybe you should check the bruises covering your body," you say coldly.

Her eyes flash but she doesn't say anything, she just continues to eat her soup. You take your bowl off the tray and swirl the noodles around in it, after a while, you set it down and begin tapping your knee. You soon get bored of that and start cracking your knuckles and doing little stuff with your hands.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Annabeth stops eating and glares at you. "What's your problem?" she snaps.

"IhaveADHD." you murmmer, barely comprehendable, even to your own ears.

"What?"

"I have ADHD, okay?"

You look down at your hands in shame and you know bitterness is clearly etched on your face and words. "Oh," she says a lot more nicely than you've heard her thus far, like she actually cares. She clears her throat and says, "Sorry."

"Don't worry, smart people like you always look down on me, I'm used to it."

She hesitates, then puts her hand on your knee. "I won't look down on you. Well, I guess I'll never have the chance saying as I'm outta here in about 10, but I want you to know that you're a person to me. And that's all that matters. Trust me, there's a lot of things people look down upon, ADHD is nothing."

You hear how fiery her voice gets and feel chilles crawl up your skin, you really want to ask her what she means. You want even more to know what had happened to her but something tells you to keep your mouth shut and not to ask.

"Where do you live?" you ask. "I can give you a ride."

She snorts and her face turns miserable. "That won't be neccesary. Just walk me to the door and outside, then I'm home."

You are confused for a minute but then you realize she means that she's homeless. You immediately feel bad for the annoying girl with the perfect princess curls. You battle with yourself, you want to help her out but you don't want her to drag you down.

"You can stay here," you say. "Until you have a job and can afford to live on you own."

To your utter astonishment, she says, "No."

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