I'm rewriting the first chapters! Because, well, they were terrible. Let's face it.
Disclaimer: IIIIIIIIIIIIIII'MMM GONNA SWIIIINNG FROM THE CHANDELIER-ER, FROM THE CHANDELIER-IER! Okay, I don't own Chandelier (Sia does) or PJO (Rick does)
Jason POV (PERCABETH WILL HAPPEN BUT FAMILY WILL BE MORE OF THE MAIN FOCUS)
"What were you doing out there?" Piper hissed, driving her elbow into my ribs. I winced, pushing her away. "Dude! He wasn't saying anything and I was worried about his mental health and his tongue's health!"
"Shut up." Thalia ordered. "You, Jason Grace, are grounded."
"You can't do that!" I yelped. "You barely look any older than me! Actually, you look younger than me!"
"But I can punch you multiple times in a second, dumbass. Nice job completely humiliating the new kid out there, by the way. Love the way you did it. Subtle, refined. Such an art." Sarcasm practically dripped from Thalia's words.
"Well, I didn't force Mom to let me take martial arts for FIVE YEARS, THALIA," I shot back, glaring at her. "So please be quiet. Look, I'll go say sorry, if it makes you feel better." Also, I kind of did feel sorry about how loud I had whispered.
"See, that's all I wanted!" Piper beamed, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "So you go say sorry, and I'll film it and lost it on YouTube as 'Stupid blond kid completely messes up an apology and ends up getting punched in the face by his sister.'"
"I'm being harassed!" I mock-cried. "Someone, please help me! And seriously, Piper? Thalia, please. Don't punch me. No matter what Piper says. She's evil! Don't believe her! She's harnessing the forces of the Dark Dimension!"
Hehe reference anyone?
"Stop whining and go say sorry already," Thalia rolled her eyes, pushing me out the door and shutting it behind me. "Do you think he'll actually do it?" That part was muffled by the door, and clearly meant for only Piper to hear. Piper muttered something I couldn't quite make out.
"I heard that!" I yelled, pounding on the door. Laughter exploded from behind the door. "Then - go - say sorry!" Thalia called, pausing in between words to laugh. I glared at the door and marched up the stairs, knocking lightly on the guest room beside Annabeth's.
There was the sound of rustling fabric and a drawer slamming shut and then the door opened, revealing Percy. His hoodie sleeves were lopsided and he was still looking down.
"Hey, uh, I'm Jason, and I'm sorry if I, y'know, offended you. With my whispering and stuff. I was curious. About you. Oh my gods, I can't talk today. So I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry, and that I'd really like things to not be awkward between us," I stammered. "Uh, I'm also sorry about my grammar. I don't English very well."
A small smile twisted Percy's lips upwards. "It's okay." His voice was really, really quiet, I noticed. Almost as if he didn't want to be noticed by anyone. And that pointed to signs of abuse, physically and probably mentally as well.
"So, uh, what's your favorite color?" The question was completely stupid and irrelevant, but it still fell from my lips. The smile dropped abruptly from Percy's face. "Hey, it's been great talking to you, but I...have to finish unpacking." And just like that, the door closed and I was left looking at solid wood and wondering where exactly had I gone wrong?
Percy POV
Blue. That was all I could see. It was the color of her eyes, of the food she made, of everything good and happy in life. Until it was torn away and blue represented evil, and cruelty, and sorrow.
Stop being so weak, I thought to myself, gritting my teeth against the tears. It doesn't matter anymore. She's gone. It's fine.
Tears sprang again, burning my eyes. I wiped them away furiously, the sleeve of my jacket sliding down as I did so and revealing the bandages. Glaring at the stark white, I pulled my sleeve up again, biting my lip until I tasted blood. Blood, like the blood that ran from her chest, my cuts -
I shut down that train of thought quickly, taking a quick look at the door and rustling a few things and then dropping a book with a thud. Maybe then the Jason guy would go away. I really wanted him to leave me alone right now, and also for this family to drop me right back into foster care. Only two more years and then I could leave forever and make a life for myself.
I shuddered slightly, my fingers unconsciously brushing the thick bandages under my hoodie sleeves. I might not even survive two years now at the rate this was going. Almost every night I had nightmares, and almost every time I stifled the screams with a knife.
Closing my eyes and leaning back against the wall, I clenched my hands into fists and let myself sit there for a second. Focus on something else. Focus on now. Focus on the ceiling. Don't think about people. Think about something else.
My eyes opened again and I stared up at the ceiling, looking at the slightly faded green paint and the light set into the ceiling right in the middle. There were a few cracks near the right wall. My breathing had relaxed. I was fine again. If I just focused on something other than...everything, I could be fine. I could be okay. I could be normal.
But you're not normal you're a freak and no one will ever love you.
My nails dug into my palm. My muscles were tense. Getting up, I kept my eyes closed and rummaged through my bag, which I had left sitting open on my bed. If I opened my eyes, I would see her again, I would see him again, I would hear those words again.
'I don't want it.'
It, not him. Not a boy. Not a human. An it.
Oh god, oh god. I tripped over the bed and landed on my back, the knife clutched tightly in my hands. My eyes were open and probably shining with tears, not filled with hatred the way his had been. There was a huge lump of pain pressing painfully against my rib cage. Oh gods, how did I stop it?
Pulling my sleeve up and unwrapping the bandages, I dragged the knife across my skin, wincing a bit as the blade met a scab, probably from two days ago. Fresh pain ran through me and I sighed, slumping back down on the bed. The knife fell from my grasp, hitting the bedsheets.
Crap. I bolted up, snatching the knife up and scanning the sheets carefully. No blood, thank goodness. Scarlet liquid ran along the edge of the silver blade, but none of it had leaked onto the sheets. Thank the gods. I carefully replaced the knife in my bag, burying it under a pile of hoodies and jeans.
A low breath whooshed out of me. The last foster home had been a close call; the daughter of the two foster parents had come to get me for dinner right in the middle of another atttack. I'd had to make about ten thousand cuts, but it was worth it to stand there and look normal.
But still not normal enough.
I gritted my teeth harder, refusing the tears that pricked my eyes. Gods. No wonder he'd turned away. Who would want someone who cried so easily? Who would want someone so weak and stupid and unnatural and freaky?
And even after so many years I still couldn't change myself. I still hadn't gotten good enough.
Sometimes I wondered if I ever would.
Leo POV
The new kid reminded me eerily of myself, only he dealt with everything a lot differently than I did. Instead of a shield of humor, of happiness and sarcasm and a bright sparkle in your eyes that was actually really easily faked, he used walls, walls and masks and silence and retreating into his little shell.
I remembered when I was like that, right after my mother had died. A pang of sadness and grief and guilt still shuddered through me every time I thought of her, but it was okay. I'd learned to accept that she was dead, and maybe a little bit of it was my fault, but I couldn't be blamed for everything.
While I had been thinking, my hands had been tinkering around with the small, spare parts lying around in my desk. There was now a small square box in my palms. Bringing it closer to the light, I examined it, pressing this button and that button and then a little drawer popped open. I smiled. Somehow I could make this while completely preoccupied, and that made me extremely proud of myself.
Leaving the little box/drawer thing on a table, I left my room to get a glass of water or something. Annabeth was already in the kitchen, munching on a cookie and staring idly out the window with a look in her gray eyes that I recognized. That was her thinking look, the one that screamed, 'If-you-disturb-me-I-will-shave-your-eyebrows-off.' Not sure how that all conveyed in a look in someone's eyes, but it worked wonders.
I tiptoed past her, reaching up in the pantry to get the last bag of Fonzies. Oh, really? When had the supply gotten so low? I'd have to sneak onto Amazon later and buy another couple packages.
"Leo, does he seem weird to you?" The question came practically out of nowhere, and it took a second before I realized Annabeth was asking me about Percy. Right, right.
"Um. Um. Kinda sorta maybe?" My thoughts were kind of jumbled on this subject. Percy was quiet and shy and pretty different from how I had expected him to be (brash, bold, sarcastic, mouthy), but weird? No, not really, because I understood exactly how he felt and I knew almost everything he probably thought. "Uh, no. I - er - he'd not that weird." Nice job, I cursed silently.
Annabeth frowned out the window, her gray eyes unfocused. Her brain was probably going faster than Usain Bolt running at a thousand times his top speed. Sometimes, Leo wondered how her trains of thought went. Was it like ZOOM ZOOM ZOOOM or more like a AAHH WATCH OUT COMING THROUGH ZOOM ZOOM SUPERSPEEEEDDDD!
He was guessing more of the second one.
"Well, he wouldn't seem weird to you," Annabeth muttered to herself. "At least, not if I'm right. Leo, does he seem closed off and kind of...I dunno...different from how he's just...supposed to be?"
I almost snorted. Well duh he was different than how he was supposed to be! Sarcasm was practically every teenage boy's religion; if anyone found me a dude that retreated into the shadows and barely spoke besides Percy, I'd lick Jason's ass. Not literally, because ew, but I'd suck up to him for a year and be like a mini-him. All. The. Time.
Yeah, if there was that much at stake, I wasn't joking.
"Yeah." My response was late, but Annabeth didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, he does."
"Mm. Thanks, Leo." She turned back to the window, resting her chin in her hands. I could sense that I wouldn't be getting any more out of her, so I turned and ripped open the bag of Fonzies, popping a few in my mouth. Mmmm. The bag was empty in only a minute. Crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it in the trash, I plopped down on a chair and grabbed some spare parts from a cabinet. Where had they even come from? Had I left them here?
Surprisingly, the window was actually very stimulating. The sky was blue, blue, blue, with the occasional patch of white. My mind was getting faster now, and I was sure it was functioning on all cylinders plus maybe a few extra. My fingers were flying in my lap, assembling and disassembling random things that couldv'e been very useful if their lifespan was longer than five seconds.
Was Percy weird? I guessed so. Even for a foster kid, he was unnaturally quiet and shy and didn't make eye contact. Also, school had just let, it was the middle of June, and he was wearing a giant hoodie and jeans. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. Maybe I should jump him when he leaves his room. Yeah, that would work! And then I could force him to take off the hoodie, and...jeez, what was I thinking? That would be terrible.
But...would it be worth it?
Percy POV
You're okay. You're okay. You're okay.
YOU'RE NOT OKAY.
YOU'REOKAYYOU'REOKAYYOU'REOKAYIT'LLBEFINEFINEFINEYOU'REOKAY.
I pressed my hand to my head, curling into a ball. The attack was already coming on, and if I stood up, it'd come like a wave and I'd probably collapse. After that, well, it'd all go downhill. Everyone would come running, my complete weird unnaturalness would be unveiled, and I'd be sent back in two days.
Maybe being sent back would be better. No, I didn't want to be sent back like that. Most foster homes sent me back anyway, calling me 'too unresponsive' and 'too shy' and 'too quiet and quirky and weird.' It'd hurt the first few times, but by now I really didn't care that much.
Besides, they barely knew me, and that wouldn't change no matter how long I stayed in here. Triggers were everywhere. Even the color blue sent a wave of memories hurtling through me. Screaming? Forget about it, I'd be in the middle of an attack before the person closed their mouth. Blood? Well, I was almost immune to that by now. I'd seen enough of my own to stop getting nauseous and sad at it. Blood was a part of life.
And maybe dying was too. They went hand in hand, really.
The edges of my vision were already starting to turn black. If I just curled up here and waited until it was over, I'd be okay, right? No one would come running. Maybe I should lock the door.
As soon as I opened my eyes, the panic attack I'd been holding back swooped in, sensing a moment of weakness. I stifled a small cry and slowly, jerkily sat back down, my mouth opening and closing in little gasps. Overwhelming fear was everywhere. My thoughts wouldn't be straight for much longer.
- there she is -
- blood, blood everywhere, floorboards stained, metallic smell, screams -
- blue eyes, her eyes are blue, mine are green, green like his, I don't want him, I don't want either of them -
- one last shuddering breath and she's gone -
- gunshot. blood, tears, sweat, kneeling, nonoNO she's gone why didn't i do anything -
When I woke up, I was conscious, but I would really rather face the redness of the inside of my eyelids rather than the real world around me.
End that! Man, this chapter is so much better than my original chapter two. So bye guys! Plus I need a beta, so please help!
