DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Percy Jackson & the Olympians'. It completely belongs to Rick Riordan.

Half-Blood Care Home

By

VMA1998

Chapter One

Annabeth

Why?

Why them and not me?

We had had a great day at the beach, laughing and chatting together... and then came the ride home.

The crash that killed both of my parents.

My whole life ruined in just a few minutes. Now I am an orphan. I'll never see or hear them again. The one day we spent together as a family, the day mum and dad decided to take time off work to spend the day with me. One day. Now I will never see them again.

"We're here," my social worker speaks, bringing me out of my thoughts. She places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I flinch, still too jumpy to not react at the touch. She slowly pulls her hand away, not wanting to upset me further. She smiles gently at me, before she gets out of the car and walks around to my side to open the door for me. I wince as I attempt to get out of the vehicle without hitting my left arm, which had been put in a cast just a few hours ago.

She grabs my belongings for me, and then leads me towards the building. The house is beautiful with a large garden decorated with a variety of plants in all different sizes and colours. A pebble path lies in the centre of the garden, and leads to the entrance. A wooden sign sits above the door, the words 'Half-Blood Care Home' announcing to people in passing what the building is.

I must admit, it is not what I had expected. I was picturing a small building with broken windows, chipped paint and dead flowers sitting amongst the overgrown grass. I was expecting little children to be wearing rags, looking underfed and scared.

So far, my expectations have been wrong.

My social worker beckons for me to hurry once she has reached the door, and I quicken my pace until I am beside her.

"Are you ready for this?" she asks me.

No.

I don't reply.

She sighs, taking my lack of response as confirmation, and raises her hand to knock the door. Instantly, a loud commotion comes from behind the door. Shouts of 'I'll get it' and 'she's here' can be heard before the door swings open.

Several children stand before me, their eyes wide and excited, each of them asking me question after question. The attention is too much for me and I step away from the door, tucking my chin against my chest as my bottom lip trembles.

"Kids, not now. You'll get to ask questions later. Let Annabeth come in before you start torturing her," the social worker says and the children groan before they walk away.

I look up again, just as a man in a wheelchair comes to the door. He smiles at me, and I instantly notice the kindness in his eyes. I don't have to be afraid of him.

"I am Chiron, the head care worker here at Half-Blood Care Home. You must be Annabeth Chase." It's not a question, but I nod my head in confirmation anyway.

"Come on in," he says and moves to the right so I can enter the building. "We'll speak in my office." My social worker closes the door behind us and informs me that Chiron with provide me with information and rules I will need to know while I live here.

We follow Chiron into his office and he moves so he sits behind a wooden desk, while my social worker and I sit opposite him. He immediately starts talking. I watch him as he speaks, but it is like I am underwater. His voice seems faint and distant and I cannot fully process what he is saying. There are too many things occupying my mind right now.

He stops speaking after a while and looks at me expectantly. I realise he has asked a question and is waiting for my response. I blink and he smiles at me. "Do you have any questions?" he asks. I shake my head. "Anything I can do for you?"

Bring my mum and dad back.

I shake my head again, before I quickly look away, not wanting him to notice the tears that threaten to fall.

"Very well," he says. "I'll give you a quick tour of the place and introduce you to everyone."

"This is where I must go," the social worker speaks. "I wish I could stay, but I have other children I need to check up on. I will be back soon."

I nod my head at this, but I am far from sad to see her go. I don't even remember her name.

She leaves and Chiron begins to show me around. The house is bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside. The ground floor holds a large kitchen, a dining room with a table big enough to sit twenty, a living room and Chiron's office. There are five bedrooms and three bathroom on the second and third floors. Chiron quickly explains that only males sleep on the second floor and females on the third.

"There are two to a room," Chiron tells me as we ride the elevator up to the third floor. "You are allowed to enter a bedroom of the opposite sex, but you must have assistance and you are not allowed to enter after 8 o'clock in the night."

The elevator doors open and he leads me down a corridor and stops at a door. "This will be your room. You will be sharing with Clarisse La Rue."

He opens the door but doesn't enter, instead tipping his head for me to enter first. The walls that surround me are light grey. One side of the room is spotless. The bed is made, there are no posters on the wall or dirty clothes strewn across the floor. However, on the other side of the room is an unmade bed, posters of various pop groups stuck to the wall, and clothes littering the ground. There are two desks on each side, along with two wardrobes for our belongings and two shelves for any photographs and books.

"Do you like it?" Chiron asks, once I have finished scanning the room with my curious eyes. I nod my head slightly, just enough to show that I do like the space.

"I'll leave you to settle in," he says. "I'll send someone up with your bags in a little while."

I wait until he closes the door before I move from my spot in the middle of the room. I walk over to my bed and take a seat on the soft mattress. I run my hand over the covers, before I let out a deep sigh.

I feel exhausted. It seems I haven't slept in what feels like forever. I slowly lay down, careful to keep my arm from bumping into anything.

I stare up at the ceiling once I am comfortable, my eyes blinded by tears. My right hand moves to the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a folded photograph. I manage to unfold it with one hand, and I blink back my tears before I look at the image. The picture of my mother and father smiling so happily as they look down at a baby me makes fresh tears fall.

It still hasn't sunk in that I will never see them again. I keep expecting to wake up, to realise this is a dream, that they are still alive, still here with me. Except that is not going to happen. I am stuck in a nightmare that will never end.