Nico's POV

I hated myself.

That was that.

An irreversible fact that was carved into stone.

Why couldn't I just fit in? Be normal? Be liked?

No one had an answer for that because I never asked.

Before you go saying something like "You dunderhead! Just ask them! They are your friends!"

I don't need to ask to know the answer I'll get. It would be something along the lines of "We are your friends! Don't be crazy!"

Actions speak louder than words, and currently I was hearing crickets chirping.

Anyone I like, I push away. Why do I do that? Not even I have an answer for that.

One thing that makes me feel better is replacing one pain with another.

It is a release.

Somehow every incision into my pale, porcelain skin made everything better.

The scars are proof that I can escape, even if it is temporary.

A little voice in my head whispers "It doesn't have be temporary, you know. Push a little harder and every problem won't matter anymore." Every time I hold the small blade, this thought bounces around my head like a ballerina knocked up on Red Bull. "Just a little harder," the voice whispers. I WANT to. So badly. I wanted out. I take out the small blade out of a cigarette box and stare at the scared boy looking back. Tears stream down my face, and I feel like I am carrying an Elephant trying not to explode with sobs. I lift my shirt and reveal a body of scars. As I am about to make a first escape attempt, a loud knock comes from outside the bathroom door. I stop dead in my tracks, and slowly turn my head towards the door, angry that I couldn't escape, happy someone else protected me from myself.

"Yo Nico? You almost done in there? I really gotta go, like now!" The voice makes me jump out of my skin. Percy. Of all people, it had to be Percy. SHIT. (No pun intended, lol.)

"Y-Yeah on-ne s-second-d." I internally scream a series of colorful curses at myself for crying while talking. I quickly put the knife back in my pocket, unlock, and open the door. I duck my head and walk away quickly, before he can ask me what's wrong. So much. So much is wrong with me. So much is wrong with my life. I'm only 15 but have scars that show just how much I hate myself. How much I long to be someone else. Anyone else. I walk to my room and quietly slip in. I collapse onto the bed and am sucked in. Into the void of darkness and fear that is my mind. A small, but audible knock is at the door. I sigh and roll onto my back, waiting to see whom I owe the pleasure but I have a guess.

"Hey Nico? You alright? You seemed upset earlier." I tense. The voice belongs to the son of Poseidon.

UUUGGGGHHHH

"Go away." I say quietly, my voice still quivering.

See? I did it again. I pushed away the person I cared about the most.

I heard a small indigent huff outside the door. Before I could realize what was happening the door flung open and standing in the door frame, there he was.

He wore a shocked look on his face, most likely surprised that the most private person at camp didn't lock his doors. This would be fun.