I can do it with a broken heart

Introduction

Morana Ryde. What a fucking name. You know what Morana stands for? Death. Literally, look it up if you don't believe me. I triple dog dare you.

What exactly is death? The exact moment when your heart stops pumping? When the blood stops flowing through your veins? When there is no oxygen to get to your brain? Yes, I did pay attention in health class. But that's not the point.

It's more than that. It's not about how you die, or what happens to your body after you die. You get buried, cremated, etc. no, it's about where your soul goes after you die.

Some might say you go to heaven, if you were a good person. Some might say you go to hell, if you were a shitty person. Or what other religions believe in after you die.

But all of that is wrong. How would I know that? Well, to put it simply, I'm a demigod. And all that stuff about Greek mythology you learned back in grade school, it's not bullshit. Yeah Tommy from back in 6th grade, it's not bullshit. It's real.

So death, in Greek mythology. If you were a little shit, and got coal in your stocking every year for Christmas, you'll go to the Fields of Punishment also known as good old Tartarus. What a lovely place. I'm just messing with you, it's actually not. It's quite horrible to put it bluntly.

But, if you were a little angel, you go to good old Elysium. Where you get praised for eternity, and you feel all the love and happiness one can get.

Why am I telling you this? Because, it's what my name means. Not that you specifically care, but it's what my name means. Death. It's such a powerful word, that once you think about it for a whole, it's like you get sucked into this blank world.

On that depressing note, My name is Morana Ryde. You already know that, of course. And no, my father is not Flynn Ryder. If you were thinking that, respectfully fuck off.

Actually, I have no idea who my father is. What a little prick he is. Not claiming me for two years. Two! I mean it's nothing compared to some others at camp half blood, but, I'm impatient. I need to know these things.

And I need to know why my father left me with my mother. What a little ass she is. She definitely does not win mother of the year. Or mother of the century. Cause she's an ass. She is basically-well part of the reason why I am depressed. How wonderful.

When I say part, I mean only part of the reason. After I was born, my father left. My mom thinks I am a curse for that, and then she got into witchcraft. What a fucking weirdo. Then she met this guy, Steven. What a fucking dick that man is. He's a disgusting pig.

And boy, are they a great duo! He also believed in witch craft and all of that merry stuff! So they both believed I was a curse. They called me names, hurt me, threw stuff at me. They are just jolly fellows! And sometimes Steven would—he...never mind.

We will go back there later, trust me. I'm not up for talking about this now. But when I was about 11, I got the hell outta there. Thank you, thank you. If you don't clap for me this is gonna make it awkward, for the both of us.

But after I got outta there, I wondered across the amazing camp half blood! That place is just wonderful! Full of wonderful, kind people. Wow, just so amazing. I hope you can sense my sarcasm.

Yeah this bitch named Clarisse, she's the daughter of Ares. Not a merry and bright person. She's quite literally an asshole. But she is fun to piss off. So you already know what I do in my free time then.