Lou's Bunk

He couldn't stand it here. Too much noise, too much control, not enough cigs. He knew where to get money, obviously. His father was to thank for that. The problem was that they wouldn't let him out. It was "too dangerous for a child of an Olympian." As if. It's not like he spent his entire life fighting off monsters on his own because probably didn't care enough to send a satyr.

Lou threw his dirty white backpack onto the bottom bunk. It left the imprint due to the amount of dust and grime on it. He didn't care if he woke anyone up, the cabin looked pretty empty anyway. He had stayed the night before, but slept throughout the day, missing breakfast and lunch. Only when Chiron called for him was when he woke.

He knew he couldn't stay forever, he didn't want to. It was just easier. He knew he belonged in New York City, not a camp full of children. He couldn't even smoke here! Maybe they had nicolette or something. Lou's powerful addiction was something serious, and his withdrawals were not pretty.