I honestly have no idea where this came from, but it's based off a quote in one of Ellen Hopkins's books. Her writing is fantastic, but…well, it is young adult for a reason. I wouldn't recommend her books to anyone under the age of sixteen, if that. Seriously.

If I owned PJO, or Impulse, they wouldn't be nearly as good (and the former would be more depressing).

O-o-O

Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest.

~Impulse, Ellen Hopkins

*#*#*

bottle

Sometimes he wonders how he ended up like this—living in this haze of numb bliss. It has gotten to the point where he exists like this, lost in his own bubble of thoughtlessness, even without the aid of prescription-strength meds. He doesn't know when he started needing those, either—was it the first bottle? The second? He can't remember. All he knows is that it started with the drinks. The alcohol. It numbed his heart, made him forget how broken he was. Then it wasn't enough. So he hunted around, found a bottle of pills. Took one. He forgot the pain. He forgot his own name.

But even that can't make him forget his brother.

["I want him back," he whispers. Pops another pill.]

*#*#*

blade

The turmoil in her head used to make her want to scream—but she couldn't do that. People would think she was crazy. After all, she was a hormonal teenage girl. She should have expected the mood swings. But they were so bad that one minute she was soaring, without a care in the world, and then she would fall into the deep blue depression that came around whenever she thought of Jason (not pretty enough) or her father (his worst disappointment) or even Chiron (just a stupid Aphrodite girl). She couldn't take it; the confusion was bubbling in her veins, burning her from the inside out. So she turned to her razor, fractured her skin and let the pent-up emotions ooze through the cracks. The pain was unbearable (she deserved it), the blood sickening (just like she sickened herself).

Her only accomplishment is that she can hide the scars.

["I want to be worth something," she sobs. Digs the razor into her wrist.]

*#*#*

bullet

He hates that he's let this get to him. The depression, the thoughts that told him he should have died in that gods-damned maze, that it would have been better that way. Easier, with no sympathetic looks and no nightmares of collapsing tunnels and bloodthirsty monsters and a dying girl. He's tried to forget those, to replace them with memories of camp and a pretty girl he thought he loved. He's not sure; he heard that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else. He can't do that. And sometimes he wonders if she loves him, either. Maybe she never did. It doesn't matter, in the end. Just one more person who will never notice he's gone.

He takes a deep breath, places the barrel of the gun on his forehead.

["I want to die," he yells. Pulls the trigger.]

O-o-O

For those of you who didn't guess, those were Pollux, Piper, and Chris, in that order. If you've read Impulse, then you probably figured out that Pollux is representing Tony, Piper is Vanessa (bipolar disorder and all), and Chris is Conner (Sykes, not Stoll)…minus the, erm, sex addiction.