Murder Doll (life of a broken teenage demigod)

Long ago a daughter of a very powerful goddess was born into existence. She was the reason the goddess was sworn into never baring a female child,but all this changes when Hellica Van Smith materialized into the picture.

She's radiates power,maybe even more than her already deceased sister. But the question is...will she crave the same evil power her sister once did? Will her new found power cloud Hellica's mind with ravenous thoughts and/or maybe bring back a dark force that was meant to remain in the past?

When Hellica is dragged into Camp Half Blood she doesn't know what to believe in anymore. That is,until she meets Nico Di Angelo.

These two came off a little too strongly to each other but after a few weeks of warming up to one another they start to realize the similarities they share but when Leo Valdez comes into the picture she finds herself torn between the two and in love with both very different demigods.

Find out what happens next to the broken demigod and see why she's earned the nickname Murder Doll...

        

 Chapter 1: Warrior   

November 16, 2017

It was an ordinary chilly friday  afternoon here in Times Square. The eager crowds of people moved through the streets like how water streams through a river. Constantly moving. If anyone were to stop abruptly they would have been immediately trampled on.

Various cultured street merchants yelled out the prices and deals of their handmade items. Some depended on that money to pay rent and everyday necessities, for others it was but a hobby. 'An extra pay' they would say.

Throughout this phenomenon there i was,roaming the chaotic streets with my longboard tucked under my right arm seeming how i couldn't ride freely.

As i walked i listened to music on my iPod. Imagine Dragons' "Warriors" was currently playing. Every lyric echoed in my head creating this emotional change amongst every word. This song made me feel powerful,it gave me the fuel and motivation to awake morning to morning and conquer each day.

I constantly keep my headphones on to help me tune out the  ridiculous taunts of  snotty floosy high school classmates. They made fun of my tattoos and 'satanic' look as they describe it.

You see,I'm not your average teenage girl. It's not because i dress or act differently...its something more profound than that but i can't quite place my finger on it,yet i know its there. And they know it too,that i don't belong there and they make sure they make that clear everyday.

And i believe them.

My names Hellica Van Smith and i'm a 17 years old native american with long straight black hair on the left side and pastel green hair on the right.

I have 8 piercings all together. A septum,dreamcatcher belly button ring and 3 cartilage piercings on each ear.

I've got 6 tattoos in counting that i started to get just last year.

* Tattoo/location  :

-black crescent moon/right side of neck

-arcane sheild/right wrist

-Sun and moon/left wrist

-blood red rose with pure green vines wrapped around her left bicep

-dreamcatcher/left rib

-dark spooky dead tree/covers her whole back and shoulders ( the vines on her shoulder looks like Hands holding onto them).

I appear to look fit even though i eat like a monster. My height is currently 5'4 and i have just the right amount of curves where they need to be.

I life with foster parents and attend a public high school upstate.

My dad died when i was around 5 and my mother was never truly in the picture.

My foster parents did their best to make me feel like their own but no matter how many material affection they gave me or empty "i love you's" they said i never believed it. Because just like their plastic bouquet of flowers that sat every day and night on the dining room table,their whole image and so-called love was/is fake along with their daughter. Darcy Chole. Or as i like to say Choal because her heart is just as black...or even blacker. She is one of the popular snobs that just loves to make sure that i'm always feeling unwelcome and unwanted wherever i am. At home and at school.

I never liked them. I've been living with them for 1 year and a half now. The longest I've ever been with any foster family i had in the past.

Why have i put up for them this long?

Honestly i don't know but i have this strong gut feeling telling me its safer to stay just a little bit more longer with them.
Great things come to those who wait.

I would constantly remind myself. Sometimes 4 times a day when needed.

I've lived with more than 13 families so far and they all gave up on me. For a while i blamed them for not wanting me. I mean they could have not been able to financially sustain me or even maybe they weren't ready to raise a young girl like myself at that time. I considered all options but apparently all the red flags pointed in my direction. If they would have truly loved me they would have fought for me;do whatever they could have done to keep me with them. But they never did. They gave me away to social services faster that you can order pizza...online.
"You will always be the problem not the solution...I was their reason to give up. I was their cause to stutter."

Some nights i would cry myself to sleep with these words still freshly lingering on the tip of my tongue and at the top of my mind.

"It's not that I'm a bad person, its just that I'm misunderstood..."

I would think to my self but just as quickly as those thoughts came they went even quicker. I was obviously the lost cause,the bad apple some would refer to me as.

And there came a time where after hearing it for so long i started to accept their acclaims and become the monster they proclaimed me to be.

I was roughly pulled away from my thoughts due to someone bumping into me. Hard. I rub my arm and try to ease the pain a bit before i scowl the perpetrator. Before i even got to look up at the dimwad, he/she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the nearest less crowded area. A local liquor store.

                    Typical.

Panic started to bubble a little into the back of my throat but besides that i was calm. I took a few fighting and self-defense classes throughout the years along with gymnastics(stupid family requirements from a few families ago). Almost immediately different self-defense tactics and strategies popped into my head as if i were to google it.

It was like my mind was hardwired to warrior mode.

I waited for him to make his move before i made mine...