Who the hell thought making me a Half-blood was a good idea? {ON HOLD}

Act Two- Honestly, screw school and bless the Fates.

Disclaimer: The world of Percy Jackson, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of Rick Riordan and his publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

The rest of the school year went ahead with only minor hitches. I only say minor because I didn't discover anything that might lead to the end of life as we know it.

The weather was getting progressively worse, but that was expected when the gods were five seconds away from starting World War 3. As a god, missing symbols of power were as embarrassing as it can get. Hell, I doubt getting caught cheating on your husband by said husband wasn't even as embarrassing as that. Even so, in the face of the plight of gods, us mortals could only tremble.

A ridiculous amount of hurricanes battered the coast every day, and I almost prayed to Pai to tone it down already because this was getting stupid and people were getting hurt, on the hour, pretty much every hour. But I didn't do that; it would mean admitting that I knew more than I let on.

Instead, I quite pointedly helped with the 'Hurricane Relief' campaigns and charities which popped up around the school. It may have been my imagination, but I think the hurricanes actually lowered in intensity.

The weather was affecting my mood, but honestly, I'm a bitch anyway so it's not like it made much of a difference. There was one instance in which it really did not help, though.

One afternoon, some boys messed up when trying to microwave something by including the tinfoil. Stuff caught on fire and alarms started blaring. That wouldn't have been so bad, except the noise wailed in my ears, ripped open my thoughts, poured fuel on my nightmares and clogged everything with panic. Not lockdown, anything but lock-

"Get out!" someone yelled, their terror evident. "Move it!"

"Get out!" Gunshots that were louder than fireworks on the Fourth of July. Screaming, crying, death-rattles everywhere. A whirl of movement, but I didn't care. I didn't care at all because I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. I need to get out now, now, now now now now now now-

Blooming pain spread across my chest-

Red stained the floor and the carpet and-

The ceiling was blurry. The world was blurry why was the world blurry-

Tears. Wet. Not as wet as blood. More screaming. Then-

"Percy. Percy! Come one Percy we gotta go, the fire's spread-ea-ea-ding."

Was that bleating? What's a goat doing here? And I'm moving. I'm not supposed to be moving I was shot and there was more blood outside my body than in-

"Persephone?"

I can't breathe!

"PERSEPHONE-! SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE!"

The world went black.

I was out cold, dead to the world, up long delirious blue, whatever you want to call it. Panic attacks are Not Fun. Yeah, it deserves its own capital letters. I woke up later with a breathing device on my face, an IV in my arm, and my mother crying from a pretty uncomfortable looking hospital chair. I flinch internally at what is probably going to rack up as an enormous hospital bill for, in my mind, something that could easily have been avoided. Damn, there goes my plan to not visit the therapist again.

"Ophelia!" Mãe sobbed into my neck, "I got the call and they said you passed out during a fire and-" Her voice broke and I couldn't hide my wince. I never meant to worry her! "-smoke inhalation!" she finished.