Everything was pain. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head, it all burned, ached, stung, or was warm with blood. Both his eyes were swollen shut, blue and black and purple with bruises. He couldn't even open them enough to release what felt like an ocean of salty tears.
His mouth tasted like blood, and he grieved for the state of unconsciousness he'd woken from. All he wanted was to slip back under info the sweet nothingness of sleep. But he couldn't. Because in his mind's eye, he saw Bianca, his deceased sister.
But she wasn't sick like she'd been when the cancer took her, she was glowing with joy. "I'll get help," she promised, over and over, her lips in an endless circle, repeating the mantra.
He felt calm blanket him, trusting her to keep her word.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Annabeth had a plan. Now, mind you, it was a pretty awful plan. She had expected better from herself, but it was all she could come up with at the time. She was going to try to run away from Luke, all the way back to her dad's if she had to.
The runaway bride.
The thought made her laugh, reminding her nights her, Piper, and Hazel had stayed up till midnight watching unbelievable drama shows. She knew the two were only a few swipes away, dozens of unread texts and missed calls crowding her phone's storage from their attempts to reach her.
But Annabeth couldn't bring herself to call them. She couldn't bring herself to tell either of them about the extent of her problems, knowing they would worry themselves sick and potentially call the authorities. The last thing she wanted was for the authorities to discover Luke, and get hurt because of him and his unnatural powers.
She also didn't want her story to spread through campus like a flu virus, as it undoubtedly would if Piper caught wind of it.
She loved the girl to death, but honestly, would it kill her to keep a secret for once? Yes. Yes it would. 

The girl didn't even plan on telling Thalia, despite all the help she'd offered. Why? Because if things went south, Annabeth didn't want Luke to hurt her on Annabeth's behalf. It was the only thing she could do to protect her friend. Sometimes innocence was better than knowledge. 

So, the only good part about being locked in a penthouse owned by a rich psychopath? He was stocked up on everything and anything she could want. Well, except for clothes, but that was irrelevant, considering she had no intentions of wearing anything Luke bought. Using an old pillowcase, she tossed in cracker boxes, water bottles, and a steak knife- you never knew who you'd run into... Or what. 

She even swiped a few of Luke's gold watches, they'd fetch a nice high price at a pawn shop if she needed the cash. If not, hey, they were good presents for a future boyfriend. 

Or a current one. 

That thought made her heart pang with sadness. It felt like forever ago that she had seen Percy, that she had run her fingers through his silky hair and smiled into his deep green eyes. A horrible idea that she would never see him again coursed through her, but Annabeth did her best to banish it. Percy, that crazy punk, was her light. She needed him to be her hope, and if he died, she would lose the fire that burned in her core, keeping her fighting against Luke. 

And no, she couldn't explain why. He was a druggie, a dropout, a dork. He was sometimes an idiot, and she'd only met him a few days ago, yet she found that she trusted him with more than she trusted Hazel and Piper with. 

Maybe almost being murdered by someone brought you closer together. Or maybe it was how real Percy always was. He never did try to hide what a wreck he was, well, except for the scars. She didn't count those. It was more along the lines of: He never tried to act like things would be okay, or had ever been okay. Maybe they never would be. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he knew she didn't need to hear the sweet lies most boyfriends would tell a girl to calm her racing heart. 

Thankfully, Luke had been gone since practically dawn, without a word to Annabeth, and he hadn't been home since. Annabeth had placed a chair under the door to hold him out, to give her time to hide her supplies if he came back, but she planned to make a run for the fire escape and run like hell if it came to that. 

Her goal was to be out and gone, down the rickety metal stairs and off on the streets of San Diego before Luke even returned and realized she was missing. Her second goal was to find Percy, because after Thalia (The last person to see her), Percy would be the first person he'd go to. Perhaps she could warn him, tell him to leave. 

Ha. As if in the thousands of citizens roaming the warm streets she'd be able to find the one person she wanted to find so desperately. And she wouldn't risk dropping by his apartment, it was too risky. Actually, she wasn't even sure she remembered where that was. 

Dropping one last water bottle into her pillowcase, Annabeth twisted the top and slung the sack over her shoulder. It was a long way to her dad's. Taking one last look at the decadent penthouse, she approached the glass sliding door that lead out to his balcony, and the fire escape. 

Her fingers brushed against the cool silver handle, curling around it and giving it a firm tug; she watched it slide open, silent on new hinges. 

But the teen hadn't even taken a step outside when the front door rattled, an angry voice muffled through the thick door. Luke was back.

Annabeth's eyes widened, and she took off running, her sneakers slamming against the wooden boards of the deck and rattling as she tore down the metal stairs of the escape, leaving the back door wide open, wind ruffling the curtains inside.