No matter what he did, Nico couldn't stop the voices. They haunted him day in and day out, always echoing on the walls of his mind. He tried blaring his headphones, he tried screaming at the top of his lungs. He tried crying until his lungs were about to burst from gulps of air. And finally, after nights spent trying to find the way out, he discovered that when he bled, they stopped. So, he bled, every night. It ran like red rain drops, cascading down his exposed wrists and into the sink below, making the dull sound of trickling water as it ran into the drain. Nico wasn't sure why this helped, but it did, and he learned not to question it.
But it hurt. The tearing of his flesh was never something that he enjoyed. The constant cutting was only for the blood, only for the stopping of voices. Nico knew he was the only one expiriencing this (he looked at everyone else's wrists), and was actually kind of glad. His lips would twist into a cruel smile every time he saw their clean, unmarked wrists, but this was with reason. The pain he went through day by day, the constant voices, the constant blood...he would never wish it on his worst enemy. So, he was glad his friends didn't go through it. The feeling that they were safe from the demon that clung onto him with its claws was the only thing that kept him waking up in the mornings. If the world looked as evil as it really was, he would never wake in the mornings. He would lay in his bed all day to only get up after midnight to let the blood flow. At first, nobody noticed his scarred wrists, and he liked it that way. Yet, nothing went how he wanted it.
He was training with Percy, their swords clashing together in such a pace that they had groups of spectators. The whole battle, he almost wished Percy would cut him, so blood would flow, so the voices would stop, because they were really distracting him. They kept prompting him to just use his powers and rip Percy's soul from his body, totally obliviating him on the spot. He held them off for as long as he could, but soon he couldn't take it. He let Percy slice his stomach, which usually would have been really easy to block, and Percy knew that. Percy ran over to help him, but Nico contiued to fight, his mind finally clear. He could finally see what was really happening outside of his subconsiance. After awhile of the fight, Percy caught Nico's wrist in his hand, as if to stop the blade. Yet, without knowing, Percy was holding on very tightly to Nico's scars, which some were still open. Backing up, Nico hissed in pain, clenching his wrist to his side. Seeing this, Percy rushed over, a concerned look on his face.
And then he saw the blood that started to drip out of Nico's sleeve, beating against the ground in an even beat.
Percy froze, mind locked in what he was really seeing. Then, all at once, he went over and gave Nico the first hug he had had in four years. Nico, not wanting to accept it, but not wanting to pull away, stood with his arms at his sides as Percy contiued to squeeze him in his arms. In his mind, Nico's alarms were blarring like crazy. Percy knew...Percy knew... Yet, his embrace was so warm, and Nico had been freezing in his mind for years. Wasn't it about time he welcomed the warmth? He truely considered it, but at that moment, the voices decided to come back, stronger than ever. And then, deep down inside him, Nico knew that the dark and the cold were now his home. He had let the darkness in, which consumed his soul so much tht it would be impossible to let go of it. He was in too deep to come out of the hole he had been digging, and too far in for anybody to help him. So, he chose darkness.
He followed what the voices intructed him to do.
