"Broken"
The nightmares…
The voices…
The visions…
They were driving him insane. Eating at his mind from the inside.
They knew what they were doing. They wanted him to go insane. He knew they were just illusions, but they felt so real. They won't go away.
His bloodied hands curled into fists, clenched tightly against the bathroom walls. Several shards of glass were likely embedded in his knuckles from hitting the mirror.
Why? He was disgusted, afraid. Afraid of himself, of the voices in his head, of the idea that they might never go away. What was he going to do? What could he do?
We're here to stay! The disembodied voices declared cheerfully. We're a part of you now, you know you can't change that. They spoke in different tones and different volumes but said the words as one. Percy could almost envision the unnaturally wide grin of a dark shadow, a gaping maw ready to swallow his sanity.
They started to mock him, pulling out meaningless insecurities and turning them into something real- something frightening.
Family? You think you have one to go back to? You're nothing but a deadweight! Unwanted luggage perfectly good people are forced to carry! You think you're special? You think you saved the world? You saved nobody.
You lost Luke Castellan. You lost Ethan Nakamura. A whole handful of demigods you couldn't save. You let them turn. You let them die and fall into punishment.
He shook his head. He wanted to shut them up and shut them away. The words they were saying… they held something. It could be magic, it could be the truth. Whatever the case, they carved out whatever was left of his will, painfully digging into his soul. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he chanted maliciously.
The voices only laughed, chanting back your fault, your fault. But they didn't stop, they got louder. Louder and louder until the laughter pounded in his eardrums. They echoed all around him, a never ending maniacal cycle.
He clamped his bloodied hands over his ears, fearing they might start bleeding too. His legs buckled beneath him and gave way. He leaned against a wall and clamped his hands tighter over his ears, though it didn't do much since the laughter was inside his head.
He tried to think of happy thoughts… things that could distract him and push the voices back a little, but they didn't let him. Every time he thought of something, something remotely calming, the laughing got louder and the memories were pulled away from him.
He vaguely remembered a time in the Canoe Lake…. It was, what, a competition? A race? Yeah… maybe that was it. Two brothers who tried to sink his canoe but then… wait, who were they?
Stolls. The Stolls, he scolded himself, but their faces were already fading.
Then there was the girl from the Ares cabin who had an electric spear… or was it flaming? All the details kept getting blurrier and father away while the memories of hell resurfaced in his mind.
You think they care? The voices mocked over the laughter. Oh, they do, but only because you're forced onto their shoulders. They should be moving on, enjoying their lives, but nooooo. They have to worry about someone who can't move on. Can't you see? You're holding them back! You're holding everyone back, Great Savior of Olympus! HaHa! HAHAHA!
The worse part? Their voices seemed to mirror his own thoughts, his own doubts. What if… no.
Percy grit his teeth. Their words are meaningless… at least, they should be. Why did they seem so… true? No. It's a trick. They want this. Think happy thoughts- remember your home.
The Big House with the blue paint and the whitewashed porch where they played pinchole with the satyrs and…and…
It was useless. Even as he tried to resurface the memory now, it seemed as though it was all staged in his mind- a hopeless reality he's been trying to escape to. The memories backed up when the fresher, more horrible ones started to appear.
There were the flames, the flames that would go out and bring everything with them once they did. He remembered hurtling towards the blackness, the cold marble hitting his feet, the sudden weight of the atmosphere as he charged into the mansion of Night. He was with someone then, he was with a girl. Who was she?
He had a momentary flash of blond and gray when the voices pulsed in his head, no longer laughing. They were screaming incoherently now, each voice saying different words which dragged the memory back into the darkness of his mind.
Her name, he told himself. Remember her name!
She was important… he could feel it. The voices seemed to have been in his head for an eternity, making everything else seem so… unreal. All he knew was Tartarus and… her. Annabeth.
Yes, that was it. Annabeth. Her blond honeysuckle hair and stormy gray eyes. Her cute smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how she would roll her eyes at his jokes and hold back a laugh, calling him a Seaweed Brain.
In that moment, everything was clear, the voices started to struggle against her memory. She was… doing something. Her memory was what anchored him to the world, keeping him there, keeping him alive. The voices started to retreat as the details about her became clearer. She opened up other memories too… his mom, Camp half-Blood, the Argo II, the war with Gaea, the final battle, the monsters, the cliff beside the dunes at the edge of camp… the rocks that loosened beneath her and drowned her in the sea. He didn't notice until she hit the water, he didn't get to her until it was too late.
The voices had receded to nothing more than a buzzing whisper, leaving him alone with the memory of her death.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, his hands falling to his sides. For a long time, he stared into nothingness, the voices leaving him alone for the worst possible time. He realized, that in a way, they were helping him. They were drowning out the memory of the beautiful daughter of Athena so he wouldn't remember the pain of her death. But now that they've confided to listening to his thoughts…
"Come back." Percy croaked, closing his eyes.
He could practically hear the voices snickering. No, they said in unison and returned to silence.
They wanted to hurt him, drive him insane. They've built up the madness with their laughs and taunts, and then they've given him the pain of reality and left him there, numb to everything else but that cold, hollow feeling in his chest.
It was so much of an insult to have her die drowning (and partly getting crushed by boulders- but still.) Poseidon, along with the other gods, was in the battle. Percy was in the battle. No one could save Annabeth when she was backed up against the cliff, the monsters surrounding her. And when the rocks slipped and she fell into the sea…
He tried to find her, retrieve her body, but what he found made him want to retch and sob at the same time.
He hated himself so, so much. He was a terrible boyfriend. He was a terrible person. He couldn't save her. Why didn't he save her?
He remembered Athena's baleful look, which then turned into pity. He remembered Nico trying to talk to him, telling him she was good in Elysium, that she died a noble death. Well, maybe he was right. She didn't deserve the stupid life she was forced to live, she didn't deserve to be another ragdoll for the gods to toss aside. If so, neither did Percy.
Sure, call him selfish- but he'd been through enough, too much in fact. He was sick of the gods and sick of himself. Congratulations, life! You've succeeded in breaking me.
He looked at the broken shards of the mirror scattered on the floor in front of him. He picked up the largest, sharpest fragment he could find, about the size of a kitchen knife, and clenched it in his hand, drawing blood.
Idea in his head, he started to hum a random, cheerful tune as he tested the glass shard against his wrist. His lips twitched into a smile when he felt the warm, sticky blood run down his arm.
"Perfect." He grinned and tested the glass on his other wrist, digging it deeper. He felt the blood run down his arm in small, dark streams. He smiled proudly at the blood covering the glass shard. The dark liquid dripped down on the tiles.
Yes, he's definitely snapped.
"What do you say?" He asked the voices. "Should I go meet my Wise Girl now?" They didn't respond, but he could feel the presence there- watching, waiting.
Come to think of it, he's done his part. He's saved the camps. He's done enough dirty work for the gods. So what was life was there left for him to live?
Everyone would live better without a mentally unstable friend to worry about. His friends would be able to go on with their lives, have their well-deserved break. His mother would finally get to live a normal, happy life with a normal husband and a normal child- no deadweight demigod son to endanger her and her family. The world would be better off without him. He would just meddle in everyone else's life trying to find a place in it.
Yeah, he was good to go.
He raised the glass, the sharper edge ready to plunge into the side of his neck. But then… did he really want to do this? Would Annabeth let him…? His hand wavered.
Do it… the voices hissed.
His small moment of doubt had cost him too much. His vision blurred, the blood draining out the cuts on his wrists. He was losing consciousness fast.
Do it! The voices urged, growing louder and louder again. No one would care- you know it. Do it!
"Uh…" Percy groaned, staring at the glass clenched tightly in his palm. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in his own blood. Ever so slowly, his consciousness slipped along with the glass.
His vision went dark and all he could hear was the footsteps charging into the other room and a loud pounding in his head. He was definitely imagining the faint cries of his name. Then the voices faded, the footsteps receded… but the pounding was louder now. It filled his ears, drowning out the faint cries. Bang, bang, BANG!
Everything stopped. He heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing.
So this is what it's like to die… he thought. From blood loss. This is nice.
It was all just… nothingness. No voices, no thoughts- nothing running through his head. He had no memory, no identity, nothing to keep him anchored to the world. It was like that- all stillness and clarity- for about thirty seconds until it stopped.
Of course it stopped.
He felt like there were hot iron cuffs clamped around his wrist burning his hands off. His head hurt like it was being pounded by a sledge hammer. His mouth and throat were dry as a desert. He figured he was either alive or ended up in Punishment.
Then he heard the voices… but these weren't like the voices in his head. First of all, he knew they were coming from somewhere to his right. Second… they weren't talking to him, they were talking about him.
He decided to keep his eyes shut and listen.
"-ing to be okay?" A girl was asking, her voice strained and worried.
"He's fine, more or less." Responded another. This one was male. "He just needs a few weeks rest. His life force is stabilizing, but emotions? Not so much."
"Well duh." Responded another, also male. "He's just fought a war, been through hell, and watched his girlfriend die. How does that help your emotions?"
Percy could tell the other one was rolling his eyes. Their voices were familiar, he knew them. He wasn't sure if he could risk a peak though.
"Leo," said the first guy. "Why don't you go outside and tell the others Percy's fine, okay? Hazel, go call Nico. We need soul/lifeforce updates."
Leo and Hazel. Percy's heart did a three hundred-sixty degree flip. Leo and Hazel were the ones who found him. That would mean the other one was… Will Solace. Then there were the others.
He messed up. He messed up bad. He didn't die. Everyone was worried. News will spread. His friends will try to "help him" and they'll ask questions and try to make him "feel better". He's going to be a weight on them all over again. Ah, he should've just plunged the glass in when he could.
The bed sunk by his knees. He felt a hand over his forehead, instantly soothing the splitting headache he was having. It didn't last long, but it made him feel better.
"I know you're awake." The voice said.
Percy groaned and opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the light. His suspicions were confirmed- it was Will Solace, smiling down at him with concern and relief.
Will checked his wrists, which were wrapped in bandages, and his pulse. After a few more check-ups, he turned to him.
"Why?" He asked plainly.
Percy's eyes darted to the ceiling, then the floor, then the bedsheets. He tried to keep a neutral expression. "I… I don't know. I'm not really sure." He lied.
"Mhmm." Clearly, Will wasn't convinced.
"Fine." Percy sighed. "I guess… I guess I just miss her. And I'm kind of tired of the nightmares."
Will tilted his head. "You know she wouldn't want you to… I guess she did a good job at holding you back."
Percy only shrugged. Will looked like he was about to say something else when they heard a loud knock at the door.
"Yo, Will!" It was Leo. "Everyone wants to come in now!"
Will groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This obviously had happened several times while Percy was passed out. "Bring only the close ones!" Will called.
"They're all close ones!" Came Leo's muffled reply. "They just… Okay, okay! Jeeze, Tree-Lady, calm down." This was followed by a woman's muffled screaming, "Do not EVER call me Tree-Lady EVER AGAIN!"
"Thalia?" Percy muttered. Leo was trying to hold back a hoard of demigods and Thalia.
"Several people are going to kill me if I don't open the door!" Leo begged.
"Tell them he's still out and unstable!" Will called back, stifling a laugh.
"You just told me to tell them he was fine!"
There came a sound of metal being torn apart before the wooden door to the infirmary burst open.
Before the demigods could surge in, however, Percy held his finger up to his lips, shh, and pretended to be asleep. Fortunately, Will decided to play along.
"Quiet!" Will hissed. The demigods stopped abruptly. Percy could feel a dozen gazes on him, and it took every bit of his willpower not to open his eyes- or move. He didn't want to face them.
Loud murmurs filled the room. Most of them questions fired at Will. (Pun not intended). When the son of Apollo had them assured about Percy's condition, the demigods left, rather unwillingly. Percy cracked his eyes open, just a bit, to see them leaving. He recognized Thalia in her silver jacket, Grover with his furry goat legs, and, not surprisingly, the hulking form of Tyson- the last ones out.
He looked up at Will who was mixing some ambrosia by the nightstand. "How…" He started, unsure of how to ask. "How many…. Who came in?"
Will glanced at him sideways and quickly returned his attention to a clipboard in his hands. "Thalia, Grover, Jason, Piper, Tyson and of course Leo." He said, scribbling a few notes down. "You got a visit from Chiron, Rachel and Paul a while back when you were still… you know, unconscious."
Percy tried to sit up but thought better of it when his wrists burned and his head throbbed at the sudden movements. "P-Paul?" He asked, wincing slightly.
"Yeah, Paul. He said your mom wanted to come too but Paul made her stay home since she was pregnant and all. He promised her to check up on you then report back so she could come next time."
Percy nearly fell out of bed at the mention of his mom. He had her worried, he had her stressed, she was going to fuss over him and come back next time. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to see her. He missed her, of course, but still…. Agh, why didn't he just kill himself when he could? Now he was going to be watched, they were all suspicious.
"Hey," Will said, reading his look of absolute terror. "Just get some rest for now. We all want to see you alive and okay. You'll have several death threats from… oh you know, Thalia, your mom, the like. But…" He looked at the bandages around his wrists, blood seeping into the white cloth. "You should not ever do that. Like, ever. You do not want-"
"Okay, okay, I get it." Percy muttered, eyes downcast. "It's not the answer, blah, blah, blah. I just… I … ugh." He sighed, giving up.
Fortunately, Will didn't comment. Unfortunately, two uninvited people crashed into the room without knocking. The two people being Nico di Angelo and Hazel Levesque, falling out of the shadow in the top corner of the room and onto the wooden floor.
Hazel groaned pulling herself up on the nightstand. "Do not ever do that. Ever." She said, turning green.
Nico managed to struggle to his feet, clinging onto Will who helped him up with an obvious smirk. "Well?" The son of Hades grunted.
Will composed himself immediately and pointed to Percy, who didn't bother to pretend to be asleep. Nico frowned when he spotted the bandages around his wrists. He didn't need to ask anything or do some underworldly ritual. One look and he knew immediately what was going on.
"Why?" He asked plainly, Hazel's audible gasp behind him.
"I'm getting that question an awful lot."
"Percy, why did you…?" Hazel's quavering voice almost made him break down. She had tears in her eyes and looked suddenly fragile- like she might fall apart any second, all because of him.
And it was at that point, Percy Jackson really, truly did come into terms with the fact that he had honestly, severely fucked up.
He didn't know what to say to her. Heck, he didn't know what to say to anybody.
Nico's gaze on him was firm and probing, but it also almost seemed… afraid. Everyone seemed to be treating him like some fragile piece of century-old cracked china. Then again, why should he expect any less? He was too much of a coward to do what he had to, he was too weak to go through with it. He thought back all those years ago- when he was twelve years old and met Ares on the battle field. He said he was a coward, that he would never be able to go through with… whatever. Well, at least he remembered it that way.
Well, maybe Ares was right. Maybe every bully who'd ever called him a coward was right. Before, he might've smirked internally, remembering everything he's gone through as a demigod. Now though… well, everything was different now.
Nico walked towards him and laid a hand on his forehead. "Well, you're life force doesn't seem to be destabilizing. That's a good sign." He said as nonchalantly as possible.
Hazel whimpered, still not moving from her spot. Percy felt another twinge in his chest. He registered how pathetic he must've looked now- lying down in a hospital bed covered in blood and bedsheets. Well, he certainly wasn't getting better like that.
"Welp, I'm gonna go and take a shower." He stated and swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting up. Nico and Will's protests suddenly blurred out, along with most of his senses. The sudden movement shook his head, and for a moment, he thought he heard the voices again, and he thought he heard them laughing.
When he finally came to, Will and Nico were staring at him the way Hazel was- like he'd suddenly grown eight arms. They seemed almost frozen, if it weren't for Hazel lightly shaking.
He stared back at them. "What?" he said.
He realized their gazes were fixed on his clothes. His clothes that were covered in blood. Partly fresh, sticky, red blood.
It was all over him- his shirt, his pants… he looked like someone from a cheap-budget horror movie. And all that horror was plastered on his friends' faces.
He tried for a nervous laugh. "I guess I should, uh, wash off now, ha ha…" He trailed off and decided to head for the bathroom door, which was located at his left at the edge of the room.
"There are some clothes in there on the toilet." He heard Will call after him hurriedly. He mumbled out a small "thanks" and shut the door behind him.
Starting up the shower, Percy tried to think back on what happened before he woke up in the infirmary. That's right… he was in a bathroom. Another bathroom. He broke the mirror and was about to… Well, technically, he failed. And now he had a whole heap of explaining to do to his friends… and his mom.
Oh gods, his mom. He was so, so dead.
He should be actually dead now but he isn't because he was a fucking coward.
Percy fought the urge to punch himself in the face as he took off his bandages. Throwing the blood-soaked cloth aside, he held his arms under the spray of water and grit his teeth, pushing past the stinging pain. Once that subsided, he felt the wounds close up and start to heal.
He wiped the blood and grime off of himself, wincing when it would sting too much. He tried not to look at himself, at his wounds. He hated himself more already.
For the millionth time, he asked himself why he couldn't have just stabbed himself and gotten it over with. I would've been easier… after everything he'd been through, that was supposed to be the easiest thing he'd ever done. But why did it seem like the hardest?
Ah, screw it. He's missed his chance. Now he was going to have to face questions, get "help", and live a long, boring life without Annabeth.
Percy winced at the thought of Annabeth. Gods, he missed her…
Who knows, maybe he'd have that opportunity again. Hopefully, he won't screw up next time. Annabeth… Annabeth kept his anchored to the world, even after she was gone. If Percy was going to die, he was going to have to forget about her for a moment. Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to. No, he definitely didn't want to. Forgetting her, even for a few seconds, wasn't worth it. In fact, it felt impossible. He'd almost forgotten her, and he didn't want to risk losing her memory- never again.
"Percy?" A muffled knock from outside the bathroom pulled him out of his thoughts. He was thankful for that. "Percy, you done in there?" It was Will.
"Yeah," he called back, shutting the water off. "I'll be there in a sec. Just fixing up."
Percy sighed, staring at the clothes left for him on the toilet- a regular Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Well, it looks like it's time to face some questions.
Okay, that's what I've gotten to so far. I'll probably continue this later on, tell me if I should. Thanks for reading guys! I'll get back to you as soon as I can!
~DaughterOfAPollo