They all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow.

Like Percy Jackson, the gods picked on you. Made you do their stupid quests. You had to ‘save the world’ multiple times and it didn’t have a good impact on you. The gods didn’t even show a sign that they appreciated your help. Not one god. Luke tried using this against you to fight the gods but you couldn’t abandon your home.

It’s been around 10 years since your mom, Tyche, claimed you. She’s supposed to be the goddess of luck, so why did your life feel so unlucky. Whenever you tried talking to anyone about the gods ‘picking’ on you, they’d all tell you to ‘suck it up’ or that ‘it’ll get better overtime.’

The only person who could only understand your troubles is Percy, but you never really spoke to him. Your friends tried making you feel better, but you could tell they didn’t really care. Because of all this, you resorted to hurting yourself. It made all the pain go away. That’s what you wanted.

It was a hot Summer’s day and you were only about 30 minutes clean, so the sweat as well at the clothing stuck to the wounds. You couldn’t risk anyone seeing. You sat in the forest to get a break from people. You just rethought everything. The way you were told to grow up and act older, but when you do they say you grew up too fast, people tell you to vent, but when you do it’s ‘attention seeking’. They tell you to eat more, but the you do, your ‘fat’. They tell you to be smart, but when you point something out you’re a know it all. There was no way to have someone to be proud of you.

You sat with your head buried in your arms, with the sleeves lifted up to get fresh air, and you felt someone's presence next to you. You look up to meet the Sea Green eyes of Percy Jackson. He looked down at you with sad eyes and sat next to you.

“They all say that it gets better…” His voice trailed off. “That it gets better the more we grow.”