frank hazel

I was born here. I was raised here. I was loved here. I tortured here. I killed here. I am leaving here.
I thought my mother, Circe, loved me. She truly seemed to care. When I was younger, I saw her turn my father into a pig. That night, we feasted on ham and bacon. She had erased the incident from my mind, but it had returned. Everything came rushing back a few years ago, when I saw her turn a boy, about my age, named Percy Jackson, into a guinea pig. She took him and his girlfriend, Annabeth, away from each other, and attempted to turn Annabeth into a shrew. I was skilled enough to turn myself...