/AN: Okay, so don't kill me. I know I should be updating my fanfic, but this idea has been in my head for a while and I thought why not give it a go. And now I'm hooked. So I wrote this little oneshot to teat out my oneshot skills and how this "abused Percy Jackson" thing goes. So without further ado, here is the… (Drumroll) DISCLAMER! Not what you were expecting me to say was it?

Disclaimer: I will never own anything. If I did, Percy and Nico would be dating, and Percy could get pregnant. Mpreg gays. Love them!

Title: Blood-soaked Tears

Origin: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Summary: A single droplet of rain fell in sync with a crimson tear. Only to have more just like it fall. Forever drowning out the blood-soaked tears that contiguously fell long ago. Clear and crimson, always tangled together. Hello, my name's Percy, and I want to die.

(Third POV)

It was a chilly August evening. The sun tipping to the horizon, amber and violets swirled through the storm blue sky. Only few weeks after the "Battle of Manhattan", life was buzzing throughout the streets of New York. A young man, who looked to be about fifteen to sixteen, was casually sitting on one of the rails of a fire escape. Deeply engrossed in ark, depressing thoughts of the past. And secrets.

(Percy's POV)

My name is Percy Jackson.

Drip, drip.

Yah that Percy Jackson. Hero of Olympus, savior of the world and all that junk. I'd like to think that my friends and family knew everything about me, and they do. Especially my wonderful girlfriend Annabeth. Well, they know mostly everything. The two things my friends don't know, my sister Persephone (my OC) is actually my twin, the younger one by five minutes, and I had a stepfather before Paul.

Gabe Ugliano.

Drip, drip.

The reason I'm so guarded with everyone. The reason I wear a mask. The reason I don't completely trust my friends and family. Except Key. The reason I continuously doubt the worth in my existence. The reason I can't sleep at night. The reason I wanted to die for so long.

Nobody. Not one living or dead thing alike new the true extent of Gabe's cruelness. Well, that's a lie. Key and I did. We were his main punching bags. Just his playthings. Absolutely nothing of worth. Replaceable. Expendable.

Drip, drip.

When Key and I were fourteen we found out Gabe hit mom. He hit mom only twice. Both with his bare hands. The second which we saw after our first quest. Thank the gods he at least somewhat kept his end of the deal.

Oh right. This part of my childhood was a secret. As well as the deal. Whelp, if you haven't figured it out I'll spell it out for you.

Gabe abused us.

Drip, drip.

You heard me. Gabe beat us. Physically, mentally, and sexually. Hehe. I can still remember the order in which we got beat. Whip, slap, crack, snap, punch, kick, lash, strike! Than breaking what little self-esteem we get from performing on the streets. Finally he rapes us whenever he feels like it. Clean up mess, hide scars and pain, don't eat or talk. Go to "bed". Repeat.

Drip, drip.

When we were somewhat around eight (It was hard to keep track of the years, everything seemed like a blur), we made a deal with Gabe. If he didn't hurt our mom, we would keep silent about our abuse. No running, no fighting, no reporting to the police, just do it. He agreed and kept his end of the bargain. As we kept ours. Both of us always grinned and bared the abuse. Our mother happy was the only thing that kept us driven.

Just grin and bear it.

Drip, drip.

I recalled one memory that stuck out from the other scarring moments in my sixteen years of life. The first time Gabe tried to kill me.

Drip, drip.

(Flashback)

It started as any July afternoon. Smack dab in the middle of me and Key receiving our daily beating. It turned out to be worse than usual. Considering that mom was gone for the rest of the month, he would have no reason to hold back. Pounding and pounding as he continued to violate us in ways that no child should know what it was. After he finished his "sessions" Gabe grabbed a metal bat.

The bat was a bright metallic silver, black markings ran alongside the handle and spiraled upwards. It would have been great to look at and play with it, if it wasn't splattered with dried blood. Rusted brown layered the bat, almost blocking the silver because of it. Soon, too soon for my liking, it was decorated in bright red, the metallic looking like a dusting of silver now. Time became a blur, as usual, but all I knew is I couldn't breathe. Through bleary eyes, I looked up at my tormentor, who had a knife. Poised to strike the final blow. "Well, at least I'll finally be free. Goodbye Persephone. I love you." At the single moment the dull kitchen blade thrust down, my beloved twin sister threw herself in front of me. The dull edge piercing her stomach. I had seen my sister fall down beside me. Bright red spilling rom her midsection before everything went black.

Drip, drip.

It's terrifying to think about honestly. Every thought seemed to trace back to Gabe and his past. (Pain) Tolerance: Being able to stand abuse and not commit suicide. (Seriously! That was one time! And we didn't do the overdose in the end.) Lying: No one can know about the scars (physical or mental). Even my favorite color. It's red actually, instead of blue. Red: Blood flowing meaning your alive, for now.

Drip, drip.

I stared into the darkened, smog filled sky while thinking. "Why did you leave us mom. He hit you once, and avoided the house like the plague. Did you not see we were lying when we said we were fine? We weren't good liars back then, so why did no one help. It's funny mom. At first we prayed to die. When things got better, we didn't, but now, I don't really know anymore. Mommy, I want to die."

I stared at my tan shorts. Then trailed down to a long cut on my right calf. It wasn't that deep, compared to others I've received, so the bleeding wasn't heavy, but enough that it seemed to be an incessant stream of crimson. Tears welled up in

into me like a thirty-foot wave. I was drowning in the memories. (Pun intended. Anyone? No. Okay.)

Drip, drip.

A drop of rain. Then another, then another, until it was pouring heavily. A single tear shed down my face, and finally, after eight years, the dam broke. Tears rained down like a waterfall. Full of the pent up emotions I couldn't bear any longer.

One drop of rain, one teardrop, and a droplet of crimson fell in sync with eachother. Clears twisted and tumbled with eachother. Once it hit the grand, far out of my sight, I realized I had done this before, when Key was in that somewhat coma. Blood pooled from my wrist instead of my right leg. I closed my eyes and knw once again. The rain would wash out my pain. My blood-soaked tears.

Drip, drip, drip.

So… how was it. Give comments, criticism, and reviews. Don't forget reviews! I want to see if people want more. If so tell me. I might make a fic around this. Also tell me if you want my OC in there. If not tell me. Persephone Maria Jackson may or may not exist. Depend s on you. And if I listen to you!

Reveiws= More writing!

And remember,

Keep writing and rocking,

DJ everything