Chapter Text
It was getting worse,
Percy thought he could handle it, he thought it would be fine. Percy had thought he could get through the day after the shit-storm that was his morning. He was wrong.
At 3 am, he wakes in a cold sweat. He cannot remember what the dream was, but still, each emotion lingers in his head. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. The room is dark. It’s raining and Percy can hear outside his window the people walking, the sound of cars driving, and an occasional siren. The feeling of another person screaming fills his ears as he silently sobs, tears rolling down feverish cheeks.
It’s now 5:30, and his alarm rang. Percy hit it with barely enough force to turn it off. His face feels tight, events replay in his mind in a constant loop. He remembers Gabe, rulers hitting his hands, teachers yelling, his mother crying out in pain, golden dust, and the wreckage in Hephaestus's Junkyard. He hears the sound of swords clanging against each other and the screaming of children fighting for their lives. Each memory plays in his head, one by one like a movie. He needs to get up soon but he’s paralyzed.
It’s now 6, Percy needs to get up, he needed to be up 15 minutes ago. His mom walks into the room, she’s not happy. She tells him that she's been calling his name for the past 20 minutes and has only been met with reluctant groans. He sits up and tells her it was a hard night. She tells him that he needs to remember to take the melatonin. His mom also tells him that’s the same reason he had used the previous morning, and every morning before that, for a week straight. His mom isn’t yelling but her voice is strained.
6:10. He grumbles his way through getting ready, the thought of his mother hating him makes him tear up as he picks up his toothbrush only to hold it by the sink. Percy Jackson looks at his half-naked body in the mirror analyzing every scar. Most are from mythical beings, Percy couldn’t blame anyone but the gods for those scars, but tiny faded glass scars line his palms, and his muscles ache from the memories of being hit. He places his toothbrush back into its dish.
6:50. Percy is on the train, his mind is numb and racing all at once. His eyes are heavy and sting as he blinks. He skipped breakfast, the very thought made him nauseous. The fluorescent lights are overwhelming.
Thursday is arguably the worst day of the week. Too long till Saturday, too close to it as well. Classmates were throwing paper balls. Percy could hear two girls conversing about him. “He’s quiet,” one said.
“You think he’s mental?” the other said. The two girls laughed, Percy was too tired to react. All he could hear in the back of his head were the screams of someone determined to help. He swallows. Tasting his spit trail down the back of his throat. Just great, he had forgotten to brush his teeth.
It’s lunch. A single Diet Coke has become a habit, something about the crack of the tab opening has become comforting. Percy still takes the same care he would have five years ago to open it as quietly as possible, for a split second the semi-loud pop and the soft fizzing noise that followed calmed him. He’s sitting off-campus in the Subway down the street. He knows he blew Rachel off but can he even stand to see her face after everything he’s done to her? Rachel is much better off without him. After all, he is the one who ruined her life with this Greek Myth Mumbo Jumbo. Percy wonders if he should call Annabeth, but she would call him a jerk for blowing off Rachel. It’s best to just leave them both alone, he thinks.
At the end of the day, Percy slips a little note into Rachels's locker explaining everything he can before skipping 6th period, Mr. Bell never took attendance anyway. His mom has work today and won’t be home until well after school is supposed to end so he catches the next train home. Everything seems to hurt as he walks through the door and kicks off his shoes. He shrugs off his pants to replace them with sweats as he flops onto his bed. He doesn’t fall asleep but instead stares at the darkness between him and his pillow. Percy lets the memories fill his head.
Keys jingle, the door opens, and he can hear his mom's bag hit the ground. He hears her approach his room, he sighs awaiting the door opening. His mom pops her head in. “Percy, what do you want for dinner?”
The very thought of eating makes him nauseous, he wants to disappear right now, becoming one with the mattress. “I don’t know, Mom,” He says, sitting up to look at her.
“Percy, you need to eat”
"I know,”
“I’m just trying to make it easier”
“I know”
“What do you expect from me, Percy?”
“I don’t know, Mom”
She sighs, rubbing her eyes together in frustration. Percy could see her thought process. She wasn’t going to yell, his mom would never yell at him. He could see it coming, The Lecture. She would explain that she isn’t mad, she's just disappointed, and that he needs to learn how to just work through his pain sometimes. The same lecture as last time with the same results too.
“Percy, I know it’s hard but you need to”
He didn’t let her finish, he just wanted it to be over, “I know, Mom”
“Know what, Percy? What do you know?” Her voice was thinly veiled in anger, all expression dropped from her face. Percy has never seen his mom this angry, but what does he have left to fear, he’ll be dead in less than 9 months anyway.
“That I need to try harder,” He says, he can feel nausea in his throat. “I need to work through this and try harder,”
His mom sighs he wasn’t looking at her but he knows her eyes are closed in thought, “Percy, what did you eat for lunch today?”
He looked at her, he didn’t remember what they served in the cafeteria that day., so he lied through gritted teeth “I had subway for lunch”
His mom raised an eyebrow and moved from the doorway to sit at the foot of his bed, “Percy I’m serious, what did you eat for lunch today.”
“I had a Coke! Okay? I don’t see why It’s such a big deal Mom!” Percy leaned onto his knees for support, he didn’t want to crack that easily. Why did he crack that easily? Why couldn’t he have just taken a nap? Why did it have to be a big deal?.
The sun was setting, and the building outside his window was shaded just so it glowed a soft vibrant yellow. Percy didn’t understand how the night sky hitting the building in just the right way hurt so much. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, He wanted to punch something. He looked at his mom, he could almost feel the hopeless stare that filled his eyes.
“Percy remember what Chiro-”
Once again, he simply couldn't just let her finish, “Chiron won’t even tell me I’m supposed to die next year!” his mother didn't know, he said it before he could even think about it. She stared at him, her face filled with not only anger and confusion but also with grief that didn’t yet exist.
“So what’s the point of, of” he waved his hands in frustration. She was still staring, why was she still staring... Percy was going insane thinking of what she may say, of what he might say.
“Of what, Percy?” his mom asked finally, her voice tight and dry like she might throw up at the thought.
The thought of what exactly? Percy Jackson dying didn’t seem like too harsh a thought. After all, he was a problem, bouncing from school to school only to learn of his father's true nature and in turn his own. His own existence was hell on his mother's new relationship and he knew it. HE could hear them talking one night, his mom asking Paul to cut him some slack
“It’s more complicated than that” she had said.
“He blew up a school!” Paul had just barely yelled that night, yet still continued to put a smile on his face whenever Percy entered the room. Percy didn’t deserve his sympathy.
Thus this brings us back to what was the point of it all...well of what his mom had asked.
“Of doing school, of trying, of trying to fix whatever sick tricks my fucking head is playing on me...” Percy was gaining volume in his tone picking up speed in his words as he jabbed a finger at his temple. His mom pursed her lips at the word ‘fuck’
Percy knew what he wanted to say next, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to his mother, that would be the last straw, one wrong word and then he would be mental. Percy Jackson wanted to kill himself, he wanted to yell it from the rooftops before jumping 50 feet to his untimely death. It was going to happen at some point anyway, so why not speed up the process? What was the point of living if he knew what would happen, what was the point of living if it wasn’t even for him, instead he was born, raised, and trained to be a soldier? He’s Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon for fuck’s sake, what is he without a sword and a quest? Just another delinquent 12-year-old boy who gets hit by his loser stepfather?
His mom waited, but he never finished his sentence. The room was quiet and the sun had almost gone down completely. He just wanted to take a nap.
"Alright, I’ll leave you alone Percy,” his mother said softly, she reached for his hand but he pulled his own away gingerly. He didn’t deserve compassion, Percy Jackson didn’t believe he deserved anything in this world.