”said that i was fine, said it from the coffin. remember how i died when you started walking? that’s my life, that’s my life.”

it’s not easy being the first born.

sure, you’re already thirteen—not need as much attention from your parents as your sister, emily—but it still hurts.

you see, your father, percy, doesn’t seem to actually care about you.

it’s always your sister over you, your sister being better than you, being loved more than you.

your mother, annabeth, though, knows how it feels to not be loved properly.

to not be cared for.

she’s not like that. she actually loves you. probably more than she loves your sister.

which showed again today.

emily and you walked into your home, your parents already waiting for you two.

percy immediately smiled and enveloped your sister in a tight hug.

of course, you were forgotten about.

you made a small sound of frustration, pushing your bag to the ground and running to your room, slamming the door.

you jumped under the covers of your bed, tearing up.

why always you?

a knock on your door made you look up. it was your mother.

she gently closed the door behind her, and sat on the edge of your bed, having a sad smile on her face.

“hey, pumpkin… the little stunt your father pulled there wasn’t that nice, huh?” she tried to lift the mood a bit, she really did; but could you really be happy when only your mother cares and your father hates you?