Old memories flooded her brain. She was sporting a red and black tartan skirt, leggings and a long sleeved white shirt that clung to her like a second skin. It was a very cold winter, although snow hadn't fallen yet.

There was a man, one as tall as the Titan they'd run from, who had approached her while she was running around the backyard of her adopted parents property chasing a small and very yappy dog.

"Don't be afraid child," he said. "And I'll take you away to where you'll be treated like a princess."

Although Helena knew she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, she felt drawn to him. "Like Cinderella?"

The man frowned. Did he have no knowledge of fairytales, Helena wondered. However, in the end, he answered, "Yes, just like that."

As she stepped closer to his outstretched hand, a feminine voice shrieked, "Get away from her."

"I will not. She is mine."

Once the words left his mouth, all hell broke loose. In his strong hands, he held a trident. It was aimed directly at the beautiful lady. A lady who looked exactly like her with dark curls and light freckles dusting her nose. She was the epitome of beauty, reminding Helena of an angel.

But before she could think anything more of it, a bolt of lightning streamed from the sharp tips of the trident, heading straight for the angel.

"Nooooooo." Helena wailed while waving her hands in front of her. "Stop it. Don't hurt her."

With those words, the lightning was redirected back towards the brute, though it didn't connect. Instead, he summoned another bolt, this time at Helena.

She stood, frozen like a statue. She couldn't move. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her voice neglected her.

Then before she knew it, the angel was in front of her. The golden bolt struck her hard in the chest, knocking them both to the ground.

"Helena, snap out of it." Reaper said, shaking her shoulder hard.

She groaned, and her head hurt as though she'd been hit with a sledgehammer.

"Are you okay?" Reaper asked, concerned with her well-being.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She was glad the memories no longer assaulted her mind, but she would have liked more time to see her mother. Even if it was only in the briefest of memories. "If the woman who saved me was my mother, she was beautiful. My own guardian angel."