The Beginnings of an Olympian

5 | Alexander Fischer

I wasn't sure where to go exactly, but I was still a son of Poseidon, so I figured I'd go back to my cabin. I fell asleep on my bed as soon as my face hit the pillow. Even though I had slept most of the day, I was emotional drained so sleep overcame me once more. I guess the Fates had some mercy because I didn't dream that night, though I did wonder if that was because gods don't dream. But my restful night was short-lived compared to what happened the next day.

~The morning of Annabeth's death~
1st Person | Alexander's POV
1008 words

I was running away from my New York apartment. My mother, Margret Fischer, was lying dead on the floor of my living room. She was beaten to death by my son of a bitch stepfather, Patrick Anderson. I refused to take his name when they married. He beat me up for that. I thought if I took the beatings he'd leave my mom alone. I guess she hid her bruises well because I didn't know all the torment and suffering she went through until the day she died.

That day, I had come home from school early. We were on some dumb field trip to some dumb museum, so I got to go home as soon as the tour was over. Believe me, it felt like it lasted for twelve hours, but it was only like four.

Once our teacher said we could go home, I raced up the stairs of our apartment thinking I'd get some time to myself before the weekend, seeing as it was Friday. But when I stopped at the door and pulled out my keys, I heard a muffled scream. Quickly turning the lock, I pushed through the entrance and ran towards the shuffling. I saw my mom kneeling on the floor with a black eye and my stepfather standing over her. She looked up in horror and yelled at me to run. But I couldn't move. I was frozen in fear and anger and a bunch of other emotions I couldn't name.

I tried to fight back, but I was only 12–3 days from turning 13–so he overpowered me easily. I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he restrained me. Eventually, he locked me in the coat closet. I was screaming and cursing and banging on the door with as much force as I could. My left arm still hurt from the punches he gave me the day before for getting a D on my math test.

I was never good at school. With ADHD and dyslexia, nothing ever came easily. Except for swimming. But I didn't have the grades to join the middle school swim team. Who requires a B average for middle school swim teams?!

So there I was, helpless in a closet as my mom was being hit and kicked and punched and I was powerless to stop it. How the neighbors didn't hear was beyond me. Maybe they were all away. Or maybe they just didn't care. My hope for anyone to rescue us was dwindling with each crack I heard through the door. I'm not sure how long I was in there, but I immediately knew something was wrong when all the noise stopped.

With an aggressive turn of the knob, the closet door was flung open. I blinked hard from the light streaming directly in my eyes from the hallway. I took one look at my mom, lifeless on the rug in the living room, and knew what had transpired. Her dead eyes bore into mine. At that moment I wished I could join her. My world had ended.

Part of me wanted to fight back. To get justice for my mom. But I was a coward. I ran. I ran as fast as I could, as far as I could, as long as I could. I had no idea if my stepfather tried to follow me. I didn't even know where I was running to, only that I had to get out.

I had been running practically nonstop. My legs ached. My abdominal muscles cramped. My head pounded. But I kept going. Eventually, I found myself not far from the shore of Long Island Sound. I'm not sure why, but I felt like I should go up to the hill. At the top was a very, very large pine tree. Even from the bottom, the aroma of sweet strawberries mixed with a salty sea breeze spilled over the top and tickled my nose. It smelled peaceful. Oddly like home. And it promised safety, though I had no clue what gave me that impression.

That was when I heard a deafening roar behind me. I turned just in time to see a half-man, half-bull charging in my direction. On instinct, I leaped out of the way before his horns could run me through. He had an ax but apparently wasn't very smart because he didn't think to use it. I wasn't complaining though.

I tried to stand, but my ankle was twisted from how I landed. I couldn't put much weight on it without excruciating pain shooting up my leg. The large beast turned back towards me and got ready to charge. I thought I was going to die and join my mother in whatever happens after death. But then a tall girl who looked to be 17 came rushing forwards. My first thought was that she was crazy when she raised a sword that appeared to be made of bone. I watched with eyes almost coming out of my head as they fought.

The Minotaur started using his ax. I vividly remembered reading about him from this book on Greek mythology my mom bought me a few years back. I loved that book. We read it all the time together, but it certainly did not prepare me for this.

There was a blur of clashes as the brave, sword-wielding girl fought the Minotaur. I couldn't believe she was actually winning! I'm not sure how I knew, but something about the way she was able to press the beast back told me she had the upper hand. If I wasn't scared out of my wits, it would've been impressive. Then it all went wrong.

The monster abandoned her and decided to charge me instead. The blond-haired girl screamed at me, "RUN! PAST THE LARGE PINE TREE! GO!!" I got to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ankle, and ran as fast as I could towards the top of the hill. But I wasn't going to make it.