MON COEUR percy jackson

roses grow thorns too

Chapter Three:
roses grow thorns too

—————

Mia had always felt out of place at Camp Half Blood. It was painfully evident that she was powerful and that she wasn't like the others (she's aware of how awful a cliché she is, but it's true). She was on the receiving end of many dirty looks, many pitiful looks, and many fearful looks— it seemed that everyone's eyes remained on her at all times.

When Mia turned twelve, she grew increasingly fed up of the constant stares and whispers. So she snapped— the daughter of roses grew thorns.

She started off by using charm-speak to make them do something humiliating: Connor Stoll was forced to run around in pink underwear after starting a rumour about her; then it gradually escalated to cutting hair off, most notably Drew's long braids, now sliced into a choppy and extremely uneven bob; to putting spiders in the Athena cabin, snakes in the Apollo cabin; to screaming at them until they passed out; and then, to pure manic violence.

Ethan Nakamura was subject to Mia's wrath on a rainy day in September. He was in a particularly vicious mood so decided to spread a rumour that Mia had killed her dad when she was little, which, obviously, made the daughter of Aphrodite furious.

She had launched herself at him during lunch, hands weaving round his throat and squeezing, watching as his face turned red, veins and eyes bulging slightly. She felt like she couldn't see anything but red, fury dripping through her veins, clogging her airways like tar, thickening when he sent his fist into her cheek in self-defence. Her grip loosened in shock, body sprawling on the soil as she scrambled back up to unleash hell. He jeered down at her; he was fourteen, a lot taller and stronger than Mia but she was angry, so very angry that she felt like she could burn. She refused to let him win, so she didn't. Mia let out a guttural scream, a sound so horrifyingly disturbing, vocal cords straining so much that her voice cracked. But she didn't care, she only cared about Ethan's body lying at a heap in front of her, preferably dead, but she could accept unconscious.

Launching herself at him again, her hands grasping at the Swiss army knife previously tucked in her pocket, she grinned when Ethan paled at the sight of the blade. She slashed, tip of the blade tearing through his shirt, barely scratching his skin, and lunged forwards again, snatching the butterfly knife he had tucked away from his own hands to plunge into his thigh, earning an agonising shriek of pain from the boy. Mia tried to pull the knife out from where it had settled, buried in layers of muscle and tissue, but multiple hands gripped at her waist and tugged her back, her heart lurching as her view of Ethan was blocked by kids swarming round to help him. She thrashed in their arms, legs swinging, head turning blindly to maintain her gaze on Ethan, she needed to know he was still hurt. More hands clutched at her body, pulling her away, restricting her movements, a hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her screams. Her lungs heaved for air, brain clouded with a poisonous rage, a red hot fury stinging her nerves, body twitching in rebuttal.

She caught sight of a girl with golden braids watching intently. Annabeth. She looked mad, silver eyes narrowed at Ethan's general area, knuckles taut from her death grip on her fork, nose twitching. Clarisse sat next to her, a small smile pulling at her mouth— she was laughing crudely at Mia's brother, Enzo, whose pretty face was contorted with worry, but brightened when he noticed that none of Apollo's children were crowding his sister. For some reason, this fuelled Mia's struggle, and she kicked until she heard a crunch, the child of Hermes dropping her waist to clutch his now broken nose, allowing her to throw her elbow back, to connect with a child of Athena's mouth. Now without physical restraint keeping her in the air, she dropped to the ground, eyes blazing as she stormed over to Ethan.