The Forgotten Olympian |BOOK 1| PJO X HP | Alexandra Marine

Chapter 2 - Alex - At The Lake With Dursleys

Water was around me everywhere and it was all drinkable, sweet-- but still suffocating. I felt myself floating upwards through the lake, the moon visible through the crystal-like water, its brightness blinding my eyes. I wanted to get up, but it was somehow, calm, peaceful, like- death, but nicer, and I didn't want to force myself.

"My daughter," a familiarly strange voice echoed in my mind. "Alexandra Marine." That was all I could remember. Alexandra Marine. My head was filling up with questions now. "Thank you," the voice continued, "I will never forget you, dear."

"Yeah, right," I wanted to say, but water filled my mouth, and I was afraid it would go up to my lungs and I'd actually die. 

Here's this guy, calls me his daughter, and I don't even know him! Feeling sick, angry and tired, I swam up to the surface and looked around.

I was standing at the shore of a lake in a wood I'd never seen before in my life. My black hair fell up to my elbows, and I tied it into a wet bun that must have looked real nasty and took off my sneakers and emptied the water in them and tried to squeeze out the water from my orange shirt and black jeans without actually removing them.

After a few minutes of rest, I actually tried to see if there was anyone in the surroundings. I mean, come on, I couldn't be the only person here, right? I had to have come here with some sort of family- couldn't have just run away from home. Strangely, I couldn't remember who my family was, either.

It's probably someone with the surname Marine, I convinced myself, and walked through the woods, but, no, there was no one. I walked for hours, my fingers twisting the necklace on my neck nervously, as I passed every tree, every few centimeters of land that did not have a tent and a huge family looking for me.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I saw it. 

Light. 

Two red tents were perched up near the border of the woods, and my heartbeat rose as I ran at top speed to the tent, expecting a family of Marines. 

Shivering, I went to the front of the tents, and saw a large fire lit up and three people, if you could call them that, laughing heartily at something. They were watching TV, in the middle of the forest.

Literally. How can you do something like that? Do you guys carry TV around- no wait, I'm digressing. Give me a moment.

And we're back in the now.

Anyway, I trudged slowly towards them, wondering whether I should talk to them or not, the lady of the family saw me, and she shrieked. 

Like, actually, screamed so loudly that owls flew from one of the treetops.

I bet it was the bun. I knew I shouldn't have pulled my wet hair into a bun. Who does that? "Woah, woah, easy, calm down," I said, my teeth chattering in the cold. 

The lady was bony, horse faced and had a super-long neck that must have come really useful in peeking over walls and windows. 

And her husband, who had a rifle now clutched in his hand, was the extreme opposite of her. He had no neck at all, a large mustache and a large plump figure that did not match well with his wife very much. He was currently pointing the rifle at me, and I put my hands up, still shivering and feeling like I might start growing stalactites from my eyebrows by the time these people learnt to trust me.

Their son, on the other hand, was not at all perturbed by the presence of a very much cold individual (yes, me), or the rifle in his father's hand, or his mother's scream, or the owls. His eyes were still glued to the TV, and he snickered as a character slipped on a banana peel and fell down.

"I won't hurt you," I said in a promising, soft tone to the big man, "I'm just looking for my family." The dude eyed me like I was gonna push him into a pit that was six-feet deep. "Please."

He put his rifle down.

"Do you know anyone with the surname Marine who's camping here?"

"No," the man replied gruffly. "No Marines in all of England. Where are you from?"

Now there was something I needed to give a thought about. Where was I from? "I-I really don't know, I can't remember," I replied honestly.

"WHAT?" the man roared, "You don't know where you're from?"

"Look, dude," I started, putting my hands down and looking at him with a cold anger brewing in my chest, "It's not like I wanted to forget where I'm from, okay? I can't remember! I was in that lake, dying, and it's even a miracle that I'm actually alive!"

"Vernon, darling," the lady called her husband, and whispered something in his ear. A moment later, Vernon looked at me, and his mustache twitched in a sort of smile that was really painful to watch.

"You can stay with us for some time, if you'd like to," he said softly, as though he was trying to act... normal.  

"Uhh," I said, deciding whether I should stay with these weirdos or not, but the fire was soo inviting, that I had to say yes.

"What is your name, dear?" asked the woman.

"Alexandra Marine," I replied, chattering and wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm.

"How old are you?"

"S-seventeen. Please, I'll w-warm up first and l-let you k-know everything you want t-to know later. P-please."

Vernon and his wife, Petunia were 'kind' enough to give me a few morsels of food from their great big son Dudley's portion, which was about 3 full plates of eggs, bacon and the like. 

All I got was toast.

 As Dudley's favorite shows all got over, he retired to bed, pushing his empty, unwashed, filthy looking, used plates into his mother's arms. I, on the other hand, didn't even get a plate, but sure, I was grateful for the toast alone and the fire.

As the fire slowly reduced to black ashes, Dudley's parents yawned out loud and prepared to get to bed.

"I don't suppose you could sleep on the log, then?" Vernon asked, and Petunia whimpered slightly.

"Be careful, Vernon, she's not him," she told her husband. Him? Last time I checked, I was a girl, but here are these people saying, 'she's not him'. I could feel my cheeks getting hot with anger.

"Oh, alright," Vernon said, after a long moment, "we'll give you a blanket."

Twenty minutes later, I was staring up at the sky with my makeshift rag pillow under my head and covered up with a thin sheet which did not serve its purpose at all. Sighing, I turned over, trying not to fall off the log.

"Wish I could've found the opposite of the Dursleys," I muttered. "The Yelsrud family should be the family I should have found."

As I was tossing and turning uncomfortably on the log, a great big howl sounded through the forest.

Great. As if I wasn't feeling uncomfortable enough. 

I sat up and stared at the ground, kicking the stones I could see from the small light provided by the fire.

The howl sounded again, and this time, it was more near. I shifted awkwardly, and my hand instinctively went for my necklace, and I began to twist it.

A minute passed by. The sad, mournful cry of a wolf sounded through the woods, and I could feel it coming closer to me by the second. It could smell me. The howl echoed through the woods, and I shuddered involuntarily. A cold draft blew against the tent, and I knew, something bad's going to happen.

I tossed away the blanket and stood up. It's after me, I thought.

The creature howled again, and this time, followed by the howl, was a growling noise, and I turned around to see scarlet, glowing eyes. Distant, but they were there, nevertheless. 

"Oh no," I muttered to myself, grateful I was wearing sneakers and not fancy heels.

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