Hey guys, this is my first fanfic. I'm open to any criticisms.
Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
He sat alone in class, unnoticed. His gaze set towards the poster covered white walls. You've seen him before in class and walking through the hallways but you didn't pay attention.
He walked with his head hung low, his jet-black hair covering the majority of his face and stayed far from everyone else trying to divert any attention away from him. You knew he was bullied but had no one to stand up for him.
Once there were some kids picking on him, he looked up to you for help. His sea-green eyes dulled with so much pain as they silently pleaded you to do something, anything to stop the cruel words and the brutal force of the punches and kicks towards him, being poorly hidden from those who passed by.
You did nothing.
You looked away continuing to walk as if everything was fine. No, you didn't have to intervene in the fight itself but could you not have gotten help? All you thought about was yourself; you didn't want to be caught up in someone else's business.
You did nothing but you continued to praise yourself for not being like the people bullying the poor boy. You tried to justify your lack of response towards the issue by silently condemning the bullies in your head saying that not getting involved was the best choice.
You knew his life at home couldn't have been much better, showing up to school hiding injuries that he had not had the day earlier. He was quiet, trying to remember his voice you realize you can't. Had you even heard him speak before or did you just not care enough to remember?
The school year was nearing it's end and all you could worry about was how you would be starting your freshman year after vacation. While you worried about starting at a new school, the boy who you saw get beat up a few months prior worried for his life.
He lived in constant fear that his bullies or stepfather would go too far this time, that he would have the same fate as his mother. He didn't get to mourn his mother's death as much as he wanted to because of the constant beatings he received from his stepfather from being weak.
You wouldn't know that though, not like you cared. That day was difficult for him, the anniversary of his mother's death, he was careless in school and was more noticeable making it easier for his assailants to find and torment him, and worst of all was his step-father lost a great deal of money during a poker game that day and returned home drunk to use the boy as a punching bag to relieve his stress.
He was done with the stoic facade he put up, the words finally got to him. That night the boy grabbed a knife and ended it all. His body fell limp in the small apartment on the upper-east side of New York, lying beside dozens of empty beer bottles.
The boy you didn't care to learn the name of, now permanently engraved in your mind. Percy Jackson, the boy who lost his mother, suffered abuse from the only one he could call family, was bullied and ignored had finally found peace.
This time you couldn't justify your actions, you knew there was no congratulations you could give yourself this time. Now a boy is dead because no one cared enough to help, because you looked away.
Thanks for reading! Please review tell me how bad that was and feel free to leave suggestions to help me improve. Bye!
