The Undoing of My Reality [UNDOING I]

JJ Bittenbinder, the cycop

Often times they'll tell you that they didn't want this:
That they didn't want to be a demigod.
They'll tell you to run-- That it's safer to be a mortal, living a normal life; As normal as you can get it, in fact.

This is simply a lie. A lie told so that people like you wouldn't pry into our world. Yes, while sometimes it's safer to try to be mortal, that godly life will catch up one way or another. Or, in my case, when your mortal life isn't safe at all.

My troubles began more or less when my parents got divorced, this seems to be a constant in these stories. I say parents, I mean my mom and my brother's father. I just say stepdad, it's easier. His name was Allen. As you can probably guess, I'm the demigod here. My brother, Anthony, isn't. Allen is a normal human and I'm the bastard child.

Can girls be bastards or is that just a guy thing? I dunno. Back on track.

So my parents divorced when I was ten. Okay, no big deal. Fourty-one percent of marriages end in divorce, we know this. What made this suck is that my mom completely disappeared. She left and never returned. I never understood why, but i'd find out eventually. Not in this book or the second one. But... Eventually. I was left to be raised by a father that wasn't even my own father, but once again I had no idea. Neither did my brother. We were both dumbasses, and Allen was too drunk to realize I didn't look like him. I feel like he knew, deep down though. It would explain a lot.
I didn't share the same dark hair and blue eyes that he and Anthony had. I took after my mom, who had this long, curly red hair and auburn eyes that almost looked red in the sunlight. She was beautiful.

I'm getting off track. Back to my tragic backstory.

I mentioned earlier that Allen was an alcoholic. He's also an alcoholic Russian, which makes it ten times worse.

I feel like my story is going to get banned in Russia, but oh well.

Most of the time before the divorce he was too drunk to speak english, so I had no choice but to be raised in Russian. So did Anthony.

But hey, at least I'm getting in touch with my
cultural roots, right?

Allen was like that after the divorce, too. An angry, alcoholic Russian father.
You can see where I'm going with this, when I said my mortal life wasnt safe? Yeah, you're getting it. Good. I don't want to talk about that anymore than I need to. I'll talk about it later on, don't worry.

The day I was introduced to this bullshit was a Thursday afternoon in autumn. It was cold enough for me to wear a hoodie, I had no idea how important it would be later on. I came home to three police cars and an ambulance parked in the street, a sight that I was expecting to see. I wasn't surprised at all. I knew what was coming.

The crime scene tape stopped me from coming too far inside, I had to show my ID and family photos to prove I lived there. A police officer pulled me to the side of the house, and "broke the news" to me:

"Miss Pierce, I'm afraid to say that your father has passed away. Cardiac arrest." He spoke in a low tone, a comforting tone. He was so calm about it. I didn't know how to react. I knew this was coming, but what should I say? "Oh, I know, officer. He's an asshole alcoholic?"

Nope. Instead I broke down crying, as one would. I wasn't crying for the reason that the officer thought,though. I was simply too overwhelmed.
He's gone. Finally. I'm free; I'm safe.
This played in my favor, I was genuinely crying for something I caused. I could practically see myself getting checked off the suspect list.

Of all the things to happen to me in the past few years, from the divorce, to my best friends disappearing when I was thirteen (long story) I didn't myself to stoop to this, let alone for it to go so smoothly.