Chapter Text
A few days later Sally scores another job. A small dollar store type of place a block down from a bar.
Not enough. Her mind wails with paranoia.
She meets Gabe Ugliano when he walks in one day. Percy is under the desk, on a clean blanket, attacking a coloring book with all the precision of a fly that's trying to exit a house. Miranda had school most days now so Sally had opted to just bring her baby with her.
She notes Gabe's presence, confirms he's not a monster, and continues staring at the wall.
It's when he's paying for a snickers bar that she decides she'll date him. His stench—the kind that Sally only ever smells in unique circumstances—hits her nose like a cannonball.
Oh. She thinks to herself. Perfect.
"Wait." Sally says and grabs a froggy pen from the plastic display bin across the counter. She takes a sticky-note and writes down her number. She winks. "I'm Sally, handsome. Call me sometime."
His eyes go wide and he accepts the sticky note like it's a holy thing. "Yeah— uh— yeah."
She grins and waves him goodbye.
Percy's little eyes peek out to watch. When the door closes, he pipes up. "Smelly."
Sally snorts and pokes his nose. "Yes, smelly."
—
They start dating.
Sally hates every second of it.
If I were a god. Loops through her head every time she forces herself to go out with the man. Her eyes linger on her nightstands drawer. On the shadows beneath her bed.
I have to do this. She reminds herself. For Percy.
He parades himself around as if he were a king. He takes her to every bar around town and shows her off to all of his friends. He makes a show of not having the money to buy his own food and when Sally smiles sympathetically and covers for him he calls her every praise under the sun.
"God, Sally, your a life saver."
"Sally, I ever tell you how amazing you are?"
"Sally, you're a queen."
Sally bites her tongue and reminds herself this is necessary. is it? That it keeps Percy safe.
That doesn't stop her from gritting her teeth every time Gabe's hand rests on her shoulder or the small of her back.
—
"Hm." Sally glares at the library computer. She has a half hour before she's supposed to go back and relieve Miranda of her job of watching Percy, and Percy of his job of watching Miranda.
The words in front of her are blurry and she rubs her eyes. Her notebook sits in front of her, the pages worn and full of ink and scribbles.
"Hm."
Its still not enough. But she doesn't think it's ever going to be enough. She's put it off because she was uncertain, afraid. She's ready the same articles a thousand times. She's fallen down the same rabbit holes and written down similar phrases and plans that are just worded a bit differently from the last.
(Gold dust clings to her skin. Blood stains her coat. A hound howls in the distance and yet right next to her ear.)
Sally slaps her notebook shut.
(Hooves click frantically across pavement.)
I am hesitating. She acknowledges finally. Godhood sounds like a fix all but will it be? will it be worth it? What if it only brings more danger?
Sally thinks of this morning and how Percy had procured yet another rock from somewhere to give to her. She can see her headboard and all the stones that line it.
I am hesitating. She thinks. Can I afford to?
The outdoors greets her with a brisk wind.
—
A week or so later Sally invites Gabe into her apartment, or really, Gabe invites himself, they get into an argument.
She was baking cookies and—because she was feeling particularly fancy—scrounged for some food dye in the back of her cabinet.
"How do you feel about blue cookies!" Sally called over her shoulder while she showed the small bottle to Percy, who gripped at the cabinets to watch.
Gabe, lounging on the sofa, snorted. "'aint no such thing."
"Well," Sally laughed, "There's going to be."
"No." Said Gabe loudly. "There's not."
Calming her heart, Sally moved so Percy stood behind her. "The blue food dye in my hand says otherwise."
The sofa creaked, big footsteps rattle the apartment.
(She hears claws on concrete.)
A small hand grips her sweatpants. Out of the corner of her eye Sally sees Percy's face scrunch in the way it always does when Gabe is nearby. The sort of face that says: I just smelled something awful.
A rough hand snatches the food dye from her. Sally lets it.
"There's no such thing as blue cookies or blue food." Gabe growls and tosses the bottle in the trash.
Her hands grip the counter. "Blue tortilla chips." She murmurs steadily.
His head whips towards her. "What did you say?"
They both know it's not a question.
She doesn't answer.
His hand cracks across her face. Sally lets it redirect her gaze out the window above the sink. A pigeon glides by.
"That's right." Gabe huffs. "Now make those damn cookies, I'm starving."
When she looks down, she finds Percy's scrunched brows and solemn face.
She pokes his nose just to watch the way he goes cross-eyed.
—
The next time Sally goes shopping her eyes linger on blue tortilla chips and electric blue gummy bears.
(Percy gives her a confused face when she buys three jars of honey and lamb jerky dog treats. She distracts him with fish tank accessories.)
The next time Gabe visits its easy to keep him away from a certain cabinet stuffed to the brim with blue tortilla chips and blue food dye and blue candy.
(The entire visit her mind burns with the knowledge that there's three jars of honey and lamb jerky in her bedroom drawer).
He gets annoyed because Sally and Percy keep sharing giggles, but it's worth it.
—
It's when he asks for more a handful of days later that she finally breaks.
He had been building up to it. Asking and making callous remarks every other date. Sally kept brushing him off. Kept slipping away.
She knows it frustrates him.
So when he pins her outside a bar one night, makes his hands iron cuffs upon hers, Sally thinks to herself—
If I were a god I wouldn't have to do this.
She had allowed the shy kiss every once in a while to ward him off. She had allowed the hand on her shoulder and the small of her back.
Time. She would remind herself. For Percy.
His breath smells of liquor and bad decisions.
There are three jars of honey in her bedside drawer and a notebook on the table.
I don't have to do this.
Her forehead cracks against his nose. Sally turns on her heel and books it.
She scrambles past people, flies over crosswalks, dodges cars and pedestrians alike. Sally bursts into her apartment like a rabbit throws itself into its warren.
Her eyes find Miranda on the sofa reading.
"Miranda, you can go home now. I'll pay you tomorrow."
Miranda looks up. Her expression goes from confused to concerned when she sees her.
"Oh. No, that's okay." Miranda stands and hurries out. "Percy is in his room. Have a good night Ms. Jackson"
Sally locks the door with a click that echoes. Her bones vibrate beneath her skin. Her legs are still tense and ready to run.
Shakily, Sally inhales.
Clotho, fate of birth, spindle.
Lachesis, fate of life, string.
Atropos, fate of death, scissors—something to cut with—and a dozen other things depending on where you look.
Scissors she finds in the drawer.
Thread she takes from a fraying shirt.
A spindle… her mind flashes to her notes. Scotch taping an old CD to a chopstick from the Chinese takeout she bought a few days ago works.
Mid-craft a hand pounds into her door. The knob jiggles like a broken blender.
"SALLY! OPEN UP! SALLY!"
Her core shakes.
Percy's door creaks open. Bright blue eyes peak out from the dark. Sally hates the fact that there's fear in them.
She hates the fact that she's trembling because of a man when she has escaped worse monsters.
I want you to live. Her mind roars. I want us to live.
She holds a single, stuttering finger to her lips.
Percy's pupils dart to the shuddering door. Then back to her. He copies the gesture.
Her eyes never leave her babies. Not even when Gabe starts howling threats and violence. Its only when he finally leaves that Sally dares to move.
She all but glides to Percy. He reaches for her and she pulls him into her arms and cradles his head against her shoulder.
"Ssshh ssshh." She whispers, not because he's making any noise. But because she has to fill the silence. "It's okay. It's okay."
He holds onto her with the strength of a desperate thing. "Mommy." He breathes out after a long moment. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, sweetheart." She forces her voice louder. Guilt—old and new—bloodies her insides. "Mommy's alright. She just… she just had an argument with Gabe again." As she says this, she takes him back into his tiny room and sets him in his bed.
It takes Percy a second to let go of her. When he does, Sally tucks him in and places his plush cat into his hands.
"You can go back to bed, now. Mommy has some things she needs to finish up, okay?"
Percy looks at her. "Stay?"
Sally shakes her head. "Later, baby. Later. Go to bed now, okay? Mommy needs you to go to bed now."
It takes him a second to decide. When he does, he nods seriously.
She kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair before standing. She closes the door as softly as she can.
Sally stands outside of Percy's room for a second. Processing.
Her eyes find what she had gathered. Quickly, she snatches the Three jars of honey and lamb dog treats from her drawer to add to the pile. Beneath her bed sits a toilet paper roll with cotton balls hot glued to it. It's a bit dirty but still resembles a sheep well enough.
Sally breathes. Determination kills her fear.
Like a battle hardened warrior, Sally takes all of her items and sets them up on her nicest white towel on her chewed up coffee table. She sets the jars of honey up evenly spaced on her nicest white towel. She places the spindle, scissors and thread in front of each jar. In front of this, she places the lamb jerky and craft sheep.
She had found multiple reports of pregnant sheep being sacrificed. She hopes this is a decent stand in. She hopes her cd-chopstick spindle is well received. She hopes for a lot of things.
At least an hour of work and Sally looks at the worst altar she's ever seen in her life.
What else? She thinks. Cars honk outside. Sally jolts up and hurries into her kitchen. She searches each drawer until she finds two dice. One is blue and smaller than the other, which is an off-white and rather large. The dice of fate. She reasons.
Sally places them on the altar.
She stands there for a moment. Sally has dreamed of this night. She has planned and researched for this night. The first time she had thought of doing this, she had been determined. Ready. But time had let the worry creep back in. The fear.
She has one last chance to back out. To go back to being complacent with this life of fear.
Percy's scared eyes flash across her mind.
I want us to live.
Sally kneels.
"Clotho, fate of birth. Lachesis, fate of life. Atropos, fate of death. Moirai. I humbly ask for your council."
Nothing. Sally swallows.
"Clotho, fate of birth. Lachesis, fate of life. Atropos, fate of death. Moirai. I humbly ask for your council."
Her eyes dart about. Sally licks her dry lips.
"Clotho, fate of—"
"Humble indeed." say three voices in unison.
Sally turns and there, on stools she does not own, sit the Moirai.
"More than humble." Grouches an old gnarled woman who she recognizes to be Atropos by the fabric scissors in her hand. "Decrepit."
"Sorry." Sally manages, her eyes darting to Percy's door then to the pink fuzzy bunny slippers they all wear. "I'm desperate."
Baskets of yarn sit at their feet.
"We can tell." Says another; Clotho if the elaborate spindle in her hand is anything or go by.
Sally chances a glance at her CD-chopstick spindle. "I mean no disrespect."
"And none is yet garnered." Says the last. Lachesis.
"Then will you hear my plea?"
They hum as one being.
"It has been a very long time since a mortal has prayed to us. Or set up an altar." Lachesis says. "A very long time indeed."
Sally all but bows. "If there is anything else I could offer, let me know, please."
"Bring us those cookies you keep in your fridge." Atropos decides. "Then we will hear you, Sally Jackson."
Sally jolts up and scampers to grab a tupper-ware full of parchment paper and blue cookies. She cracks it open and offers it to them like they're Mrs. Mabel from next door, visiting because she doesn't really have anyone else to talk to.
Lachesis snatches the container and places it upon her lap. Atropos takes a handful of cookies and begins eating.
Clotho grabs three cookies and stuffs them in her mouth. After a lot of chewing, she swallows. "Speak your woes, Sally Jackson."
Sally bites the inside of her cheek. "I need to ask of you—honored ladies—if you might be able to turn me into a goddess."
"Might?" They say absently. "We have and can turn mortals into gods."
Atropos' hand hesitates over the cookie container before she reaches—and she does not lean nor does her arm extend, she simply reaches—and takes some of the lamb jerky dog treats. She begins to gnaw on them.
Sally swallows. "Will you, then?"
Lachesis wipes crumbs from her face and procures a candy blue ball of yarn from one of their many baskets. "This," She says simply, "Is you. Sally Jackson.
"A very pretty color." Clotho compliments while she grabs another bright blue cookie. Though now that Atropos is eating it, Clotho eyes the jerky too.
Vaguely, Sally nods.
"This basket," Lachesis kicks the basket, "Is of the decided."
"The decided?"
Atropos grunts. "Your fate has already been chosen, Sally Jackson. We will not make you a god because you do not become one."
You do not—
Decided—
"No." Sally says.
"Yes." They croon.
"Please, reconsider—!"
"You are of the decided." Lachesis intones, her eyes glowing with her sisters.
And something in Sally snaps.
Of the decided?
Sally has endured monsters. She has worked her ass off to keep apartment after shitty apartment. Sally has gone hungry and given up on sleep. She watched children die. Sat idle while beasts tore into innocent flesh. She has tried to do the best with what she has and she can feel the effort killing her. Strangling something inside of her.
She remembers so long ago. When she had been fifteen or something and walking home with a friend in the rain. They had laughed madly as they dashed from cover to cover.
She remembers a dinner she had with her parents before they had died. It had been a good dinner and they had talked well into the night.
Percy's small face, always so serious, flashes across her mind.
I want us to live.
"I am sorry for my brashness. I understand, esteemed ladies." Sally bows her head.
"Oh, good." Atropos' licks the salt from her chapped lips. "It's annoying when they don't realize what's done is done."
Lachesis nods.
Clotho eats the lamb jerky.
A pressure begins to build. They lean back on their stools. Sally feels her heart thunder in her chest.
"Bu— before you leave, however, would you not like to taste the honey I got for you?"
The pressure lessens. Clotho leans forward, her eyes spark with life. "Honey?"
Atropos' pupils dart to the jars. "Hmm…" she says, shifting towards the jars.
"It would not hurt." Lachesis concedes. "To have a taste. Bring the jars here, Sally Jackson."
Quickly, Sally scoops up the jars and hands them to each of the fates. Its unnerving, getting so close to them. And unnervingly easy, as well. Her eyes dart to the candy blue ball of yarn that rests in its basket next to Lachesis.
Sally dips her head in a nervous half-bow. "Would you like spoo—"
They pop the lids off in unison and, without much fanfare, use their hands to scoop the honey into their mouths.
For a moment, Sally stands there, stunned. Her mind roars so loud it gives her a headache before she strangles it into silence.
Then, like lightning, like a cornered animal, Sally Jackson snatches her yarn ball of the fates basket.