Archived:Miles Hamilton

Personality
Miles, in one word, is serious. He hates to joke around and has a reputation labeled to be a kill joy. He doesn't talk unless when talked to. He likes to sulk around in darkness and enjoy time with himself alone. It could pretty much explain his life---empty and dark. In some way, he's strange, unpredictable but logical and kind. He does everything for a reason. In silence, he appreciates art and painting.

History
In Chicago, Illinois, I was born to Nerissa Hamilton sixteen years ago. In Chicago's alleys and streets, I live by myself. I ran away from my house, if I can't call it a home. Mom told me that she and Dad met during a Halloween Party, she got drunk and didn't remember most of the details only that a week later, she figured out she was pregnant. When I was born, dad left us immediately with no trace of his whereabouts. So Mom remarried a neurotic psycho who continuously abuses me sadistically for fun a year later. He had a daughter before he and Mom married, a psychopath sister. He treats me and Mom as servants of our own home and not as a family. We couldn't take it any longer. Mom fought back and left them in our very own house. We had nowhere else to go and Mom started to become sick.

What choice do I have now? We ran out of money. Mom got fired from her job since she was already unable to work after diagnosed with severe anemia. I stopped schooling. I began to steal for us to survive. Criminals have a reason to be one... because of desperation. We found shelter on a dilapidated house at the edge of the city. One day, Mom died when I was twelve. When StepDad and Hadley, my stepsister, heard about the news, the only thing they offered was a funeral for Mom and nothing more. After the burial, before I went off to a meaningless and empty life, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a grim reaper with a real scythe who nodded at me. I kept blinking, it's aura radiated death and seemingly supernatural, until Hadley interrupted and said her condolences. She suddenly became kind towards me. Once she's gone, so had the hooded grim. I approached the spot where he was standing and there was a wristband with my name engraved on it. A small note said, "Your father always wanted you to have this..." and a '~N' at the end.

Nowhere to go to, I walked and walked until my feet sore and almost caught hypothermia in the cold snow. I passed a house where an aromatic scent of bread was cooking. I peered over the window, no one was out there except for a freshly baked bread on the platter with sandwhiches and a juice and a painting left unfinished in a canvas. No one home yet, I entered the house with a few tricks in opening the door with my army knife. I made myself cozy, ate the meal at the table as I try to finish what the artist began. I must've fallen asleep but I heard numerous clatterings, groans and grunts (monster fights) when I was half-conscious so I thought I was dreaming that I ended up caught and thrown into jail. A few days passed and the painter came back and filed release papers for me. Confused, he sent me to his home, we talked, he understood my condition, and eventually made me as his apprentice.

Aside from painting, he taught me swordfighting and archery, both of which was his specialty. He told me that I need to learn self-defense for the crimes rising nowadays. He treated me like his own child for he never had one. Often, he'd babble poems, haikus, tankas, lovely sonnets, and verses for encouragement. He even taught me piano for a hobby. When I was 14, I almost puked when i got home to find out he was fighting old ladies. I almost contracted deliria from the trauma I got but he told me to focus seeing it. Ugly old ladies. Harpies he said. One almost got me if my wristband didn't expand into a heavy shield. He gave me a sword and watched how I handled it.

After the fight, he explained that both of us are demigods, we constantly get attacked by monsters, we train at Camp Half Blood how to fight them, that our fathers are gods. Everything. He knew my Stepdad as a psychopath son of Ares. They were rivals at camp and that Hadley was a daughter of Pandia, he taught her archery as a hobby-slash-training secretly as well. We didn't get to camp right away since I refused going there. I thought it would be another camp for mentally disturbed kids. He eventually gave up the argument so we held on to each other for nearly two years when I finally, after so many attacks, decided to get to camp.

After so many monster attacks while on the run with a sword to defend myself and Mr. Homer to guide and teach me, we met Hadley and Stepdad at the foot of the Half Blood Hill being attacked by a manticore. Bruised, tired and bleeding we may be, they're at the brink of death so we grudgingly helped them. Hadley got badly stung to protect me from being stung since I was creeping up for the kill. Demigods patrolling saw the commotion and helped. We all ended up in the infirmary after the fight.

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