Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a terrible daughter. There were monsters under her bed, spiders, and they crawled over her skin and caressed her with harsh thread — her stepmother was not having any of it.

"Useless," she implored. Was her name Helen or Susan? Annabeth couldn't remember, and she didn't care.

Her father, Frederick Chase, did not care, either. Instead he said, "Don't bother. Annabeth, go read a book," in a most dismissive manner. Annabeth pursed her lips.

"Okay, Daddy," said Annabeth, and went upstairs. She was a good girl. She would listen to her father, and ignore Helen/Susan/What's-Her-Name. She would not play with Bobby and Matthew, for they were "useful" and "should not be corrupted with laziness."

Okay, thought Annabeth. I'm a good girl, and I will not play with them.

...Oh, but you want to, whispered a knowing voice somewhere inside her. So badly, you want to.

I am a good girl, Annabeth told herself again. I am a good girl.

Keep lying to yourself, replied the voice haughtily.

I'm not a liar, Annabeth countered, I'm a good girl.

The voice did not reply, but Annabeth thought she could hear it sneer.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

She was a terrible daughter, but a good girl, nonetheless. She went to school and she got good grades and she didn't talk to her brothers and she didn't listen to that tempting, tempting voice. At all.

But the monsters came back, and the spiders returned — they bit her, and they strung silk over her, and Helen/Susan/What's-Her-Name would never believe her. Annabeth wanted to leave. Annabeth wanted something better.

You know what you want, and all you have to do...is reach, it crooned. Go on...

I'm a good girl, rebutted Annabeth. Good.

Oh, you aren't, darling. And when you realize that you will never be a good girl, you'll finally be more free. You are not good. You can't be.

I am, and I will be. I'll prove you wrong, Annabeth challenged, I promise.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was still a good girl.

She was also still a terrible daughter. That was why she'd run away. The spiders did not return anymore, but there were monsters, large ones. One-eyed terrible creatures and scaly snake-women stalked her, and they whispered at night, "Wisdom spawn."

The voice told her, Go back, and be a good girl.

Annabeth replied, That's why I can't.

Have it your way, said the voice simply. Don't expect anything when you're lying on the floor, dead from starvation.

I am a good girl, repeated Annabeth. She stayed with her promise and intended to do so, for as long as she could.

Oh, but soon she got hungry, so hungry, and was beginning to think that the voice was right and that someone would find her body, dead from hunger and being eaten by maggots.

She lived, though, because a boy named Luke Castellan with a girl named Thalia Grace found her and took her in as one of their own; all the while, Annabeth told herself she was a good girl.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a terrible friend.

Grover got her along with Luke and Thalia to camp. Some terrible thing, a monstrous thing, attacked. Thalia became a pine tree.

None of them got to say goodbye.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

She was a good daughter of Athena. She was smart. She could strategize. She was loved.

It never felt like enough. But Annabeth Chase was a good girl —

You are foolish for a daughter of Athena, said the voice coldly. But someday you will learn.

I am a good girl, Annabeth repeated. The voice sighed. It sounded familiar, oddly enough, now that she really heard its tones; it was female, but deeper than voices of her age — there was something about it Annabeth couldn't quite pin her finger on.

Have it your way, it said after a pause. You always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

She was a terrible friend when Luke returned.

You like him, no? whispered that voice. You do, darling, you do...

I am a good girl, Annabeth told it firmly, and good girls do not like people they're terrible to.

Have it your way, the voice said to her in turn. You always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a good daughter of Athena.

Annabeth Chase was a terrible friend.

Percy Jackson was not her friend. She told him, "You drool when you sleep."

Oh, he's pretty, the voice crooned condescendingly, but you're a good girl, aren't you? Have it your way — you always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a good daughter of Athena. She helped Percy slay Medusa.

Wonderful job, the voice told her. You might learn just yet.

Learn what? questioned Annabeth. I am a good girl.

Have it your way, the voice said as usual. You always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a good daughter of Athena. She helped return the Golden Fleece.

Wonderful, wonderful...

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl.

Annabeth Chase was a terrible daughter of Athena. She got captured, like a damsel in distress, and she held up a little bit of the sky, and she had to be saved by Percy.

Not so good, are you now? Or Percy wouldn't have that gray streak...

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

She fought in the Battle of the Labyrinth. She got a laptop from Daedalus.

She fought in her first major battle. She fought tears in her eyes seeing all the deaths.

You're learning what it means, murmured the voice approvingly. Good girl — or I guess not.

Annabeth did not reply but she thought she could hear the voice laughing, a low, deep, manic chuckle that sent shivers — and not the bad kind — down her spine.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

She fought in the Titan War. She fought Luke. And Kronos.

She kissed Percy when they won. She liked it.

Good job, honey, said the voice.

I am a good girl, Annabeth protested weakly. She hadn't for years, but in vain, she did.

Perhaps, perhaps not, replied the voice chillingly, but have it your way. You always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

She was a terrible girlfriend, though. Her boyfriend did not even say goodbye when he left.

He was gone, and Annabeth cried for him, and she cried for herself.

This is what becomes of good girls, the voice mocked. But have it your way; you always do.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

She found Percy. They were back together.

They fell into Tartarus together.

Good girls go to hell, said the voice.

I am a good girl, then, replied Annabeth.

Oh, my darling, the voice said, so familiar yet so estranged, sounding sad, as if shaking its head at her naïvety, good girls may fall into hell, but only bad girls climb out.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl.

She had to talk Percy out of killing Akhlys with her own poison. But she'd wanted him to. He'd wanted to, too. She could see the darkness in his beautiful, now shattered, sea-glass eyes, and she wondered if that darkness was mirrored into her own dull gray ones.

They found their way out of Tartarus.

Good girls fall into hell, repeated the voice, but only bad girls climb out.

This time, she listened to it.

Annabeth was not a good girl. She was a bad girl, and she climbed out of hell itself.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was not a good girl.

The demigods won against Gaea.

One more win, one step closer, muttered the voice absently.

What do you mean? asked Annabeth.

I mean that it's almost time, it said, mind-numbingly familiar. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but Annabeth couldn't figure out who the voice belonged to.

Who are you?

I was once just like you, it replied vaguely. I thought I was a good girl.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl. Then, she realized she was meant for more.

Annabeth Chase became a bad girl. Slowly, slowly, but surely.

Wonderful, smiled the voice, and Annabeth listened.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a bad girl.

The nightmares plagued her, but not as much as they did when she was deluding herself.

Bad girls don't get nightmares often, the voice said.

Then, replied Annabeth, I am a bad girl.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a bad girl, and she was a smart girl, and she noted that her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, was not a good boy.

"Percy?" she asked him in the Poseidon cabin one day.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"About that time — in — in Tartarus — with Akhlys — why'd you do it?"

He frowned. "I didn't like her. I wanted her dead."

"I did, too," Annabeth admitted, "I wanted her dead, but I was telling myself I was a good person, that I could fight that — that darkness, and, I saw you were too. Then I stopped deluding myself. I'm not good. I'm bad —"

He cut her off with a kiss; they connected with passion, hands mingled in the other's hair, breathing the same air.

"I'm bad, too," he said simply.

Don't you see? asked the voice. After hearing herself talk just now, she recognized the tone.

That voice, the one she'd been hearing for as long as she could remember, was her. It had been herself whispering words into her own ears, placing doubts into her own mind, chuckling maniacally into her own brain.

Annabeth didn't mind. She liked it, and she listened.

. . .

Annabeth Chase was a good girl. Annabeth Chase was somewhat of a good girl. Annabeth Chase was no longer a good girl. Annabeth Chase was a bad girl.

Now, Annabeth Chase is a bad, bad woman, and her boyfriend, Percy Jackson, is a bad, bad, man and her husband — they rule Olympus with iron fists, and they are the gods of a new dawn.

i honestly cannot remember the name of mrs. chase. is she helen or susan? i'm on a dark!percabeth spree these days, hope you enjoy