TW: RAPE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SUICIDE ATTEMPT
They say that ignorance is bliss. That it's better to not know things. So why the fuck did Percy just spill his guts out to Leo? Gods, this was too much, too fast. He couldn't, he was gonna-
Percy ran to the small bathroom in the apartment, locking the door before leaning heavily against it. He took a few shuddering breaths. Leo? Really? The guy was a snoop, wanting answers. He didn't help Percy last night. After Percy had stopped talking, Leo had taken a camp Pegasus and flown back to camp. Percy wished he flew the Pegasus into the sun.
The light flickered a little. The small bathroom was cold, empty. An empty glass sat next to his tooth brush.
He shivered. Raking a hand through his hair, Percy stepped away from the door. The mirror reflected his image. Tall, lean. Dark hair, green eyes. Purple bags underneath his eyes shadowed his hollow cheek bones, showing he hadn't been eating well, or even enough.
It wasn't anorexia. Just… snake like. Eating large amounts then nothing.
Percy was going crazy. He knew it. The voices in the back of his mind crept closer. Sometimes, he swore he actually heard them. He would turn to find the source of the voice, but finding nothing. Finding no one.
It was a mistake. From day one. Hell, he was a mistake. An accident that was never supposed to happen.
His on father even admitted he was sorry he was born. If that doesn't mess someone up, Percy doesn't know what will.
Percy knew his life sucked. Yeah, he wasn't homeless by age seven. He wasn't raised by Hera. His mum didn't die, forcing him to flee to camp. He didn't die to protect the world for seventy years. His mortal parent wasn't a famous multi-millionaire actor.
But he was raised in poverty. He was abused. He was expelled for things he didn't do. He was bullied. He made his first friend when he was twelve. And that friend was his protector undercover, a freaking satyr. From Camp Half-Blood, whose duty was to collect demigods like himself and get them escorted to Camp safely. He watched his mum get abused and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
He had severe ADHD. He went on his first quest when he was twelve, going on a deadly quest every year. He was a prophecy child, destined to die by his own cursed blade. He's lived longer than he expected.
He's killed monsters. He's killed demigods. But, there was a difference. A difference between him and his friends that Percy felt was accountable and beneficial for his feelings about everything.
Leo chose to be homeless. He may have not fitted in, but after the first time, he didn't give the families a chance to change. He didn't give himself a chance to prove he wasn't what people said he was.
Annabeth chose to run away after three nights of creepy spiders. After three nights of her step mother not believing her.
Jason was welcomed into Camp Jupiter with welcome arms because he was a son of Jupiter. He wasn't segregated because he wasn't supposed to exist. Hera chose him to be a leader at her camp.
Frank… his mum dying is awful. But that was one of the sole bad things that happened in his life. His gran cared for him… though she had a funny way of showing it. Fai Zhang she called him. Percy never knew his grandparents.
Hazel had a shit life, but she was able to escape in a noble and brave way. Died with her mother, defeating Gaia - for the time being.
Piper hated her father because he didn't pay attention to her. But she had the world at her fingertips. She was rolling in money; choosing not to use it to piss off her father and get his attention.
Yeah, Percy was wallowing in self-pity at the moment. But the voices… they were the ones whispering these things in his ears. Gnawing at his conscience, losing all sense of morality. For the first time in a long time, Percy let the thoughts, the voices, take over.
Percy's ideas on his depression are moot to what other people say. He had recently developed a fear of drowning. Suffocating, not in water, but under expectations of others. Stress, his feelings. His memories. Percy knew he was drowning, just like he knew he was drowning in the nymph shrine. These responsibilities, expectations, everything was burying Percy up to his neck and he couldn't escape.
He often wonders what life would be like if he was mortal. Would he be bullied? Would he be smart? Would he have a girlfriend? Would he even exist?
Thoughts penetrated his mind, ricocheting around his skull, annihilating his sense of morality. Percy gripped the sink, taking deep breaths. Steadying his irregular heartbeat, Percy exhaled heavily through his lungs. He knelt and opened the cabinet.
There were two options. They both taunted him, making him decide. Much like Janus, the god of choices. Percy remembered meeting him in the Labyrinth. He teased Annabeth, trying to persuade her to making a choice. Pain or peace were her choices in the Labyrinth.
Pain or peace were his choices too. Percy weighed his options. One would bring Percy pain. Controlled, something he could stop at anytime. Or something to die with. He always liked the idea of dying at the hands of a blade. And the hands on the enemy.
The other would knock him out like a light until morning. Percy grunted. He couldn't decide.
He grabbed both items and slammed the cabinet door. In his hands were a box of razors and a new packet of Valium.
He opened the Valium and popped most of the tablets. He took out a razor. He lay everything on the bench.
Surely this wasn't the answer.
But it was.
It had to be.
Guilt flowed through Percy's veins. He- he couldn't.
He could.
He would.
Percy stalked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen. No lights were on. The apartment was eerily silent, although the city was still alive and thriving outside.
Percy rummaged through the cabinets, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was at the back, he knew it was at the back!
A can fell on the floor, making a loud thud in the soundless flat. Percy winced, but nothing. No one stirred.
Percy breathed a sigh of relief. His cover wasn't blown – yet.
Percy chastised himself, though he didn't know why. Being cynical was normal in this type of situation. Pessimistic was not a word most would use to describe Percy, but that was how he felt in that moment.
He found what he was looking for- a bottle of Fosters. Of course it wasn't in the fridge. If is mum found out Paul was hiding alcohol, a war would break loose that would be more terrifying than the Titan war.
Percy shuddered, not wanting to face his mother's wrath.
Would he even live to face his mother's wrath? Percy didn't know. He didn't really care much either way. Either he would die, go to the Underworld forever; or he would live, go to hospital, yada yada yada.
He crept back to the bathroom, the sudden, harsh light making him grimace. The warm beer in his hand became more noticeable than ten seconds ago.
He was really going to do this.
Percy thought of his reasoning's.
First: childhood trauma.
Percy grew up with his mum and his step-father, Gabe Ugliano. Gabe was an alcoholic and a gambler. Wasted all their money.
He also had anger management issues. Took it out on his mum. Took it out on Percy.
Beatings, slashings, beltings. You name it, they (Gabe and his goons) did it to Percy. They even raped him. Percy remembered the day plain as rain, after seven odd years.
They cornered him, pressured him, black mailed him. They did it twice only, but still twice too many times than Percy (or any god-forsaken human) would have liked.
Second: bullying.
Percy dealt with bullies all his life. Gangs teaming up and trapping Percy, only stopping recently. He was bullied everywhere, anywhere. He was a target. A big red spot painted over most of his being, everyone else taking shots with arrows. Some missed, some slightly getting to their goal, some getting a bullseye.
Third: camp.
Camp Half-Blood was one of the best things to every happen to him. He made friends, met Annabeth and found happiness.
But with that, he found out at a young age. Twelve.
Most twelve year olds ran away from bees, whilst Percy stared down death multiple times. Most of the time, it didn't feel too great.
His mum being taken away too- that was one of his biggest fears. That he would've lost the one person he cared for most.
Fourth: being a demi-god.
Percy remembered being down in Atlantis with Jason. He remembered being trapped under the net, poison slowly taking control of him.
Percy admitted that he was practically suicidal, that everything- his PTSD, the pressure, his Mental Health- to Jason, who just brushed it off. And that hurt.
Jason said he thought he got it, but he didn't. Doesn't. Not even close.
When Jason didn't take him seriously, Percy had felt pain.
But it was a kind of pain Percy had never felt before. A burning, searing, hollow pain that settles right in the depths of his fractured soul. He knows where it comes from. He knows it's an effect of the years of trauma and hardships he'd experienced in life. But he has no idea how to stop it.
Everywhere he goes reminds him of his life, his old life, and their small camp and the camper's shitty sympathy disguised in the form of soft smiles and sympathetic 'advice' has not been helping. People tell him to stop looking down. So he starts looking up. It hasn't helped.
Instead of happiness and sunshine, Percy saw harsh UV rays mixed with hail. Scorching sun and a thunderstorm.
Taking a deep breath, Percy cracked open the beer. It smelled disgusting.
Just do it.
If you don't do it now, you'll never do it.
He picked up a Valium tablet. He knew he couldn't OD with so little, but add alcohol –BAM.
Painfree. Ish.
The voices encouraged him, egging him on like jerk friends encourage their 'bro' in a fight of some sort.
Placing it gingerly on his tongue, he sipped the beer, letting both substances slide down his throat. Percy knew he had to be quick, before the effects kicked in.
Pill after pill, Percy choked back the Valium and beer until he felt sick. Until his breathing became a harder task, like his lungs had filled with Styrofoam peanuts, rattling and not letting him intake any air. Percy stumbled, gripping the sink like a life line.
His vision blurred when he raised his head to look in the mirror. He felt his heart slow down.
Percy didn't want to die. Not anymore.
He made a reach for the door, using it as leverage to push himself away from the bathroom. Darkness enveloped him, he couldn't see.
His head was light. He felt funny. Percy could hear his breathing, hear his heart thumping desperately.
He swayed. He had to go somewhere. Anywhere!
His mum, Annabeth?
Annabeth. Percy's breathing shallowed more and more.
Crashing into walls, Percy tried to make a beeline for his room. When did all these walls get here?
His bedroom door was so close-
Percy tripped, falling in front of his room, where a blissfully unaware Frank and Annabeth slept soundly.
Percy's eyes began to slide closed. He couldn't help it. They were so heavy, he was so tired.
Percy lay on the floor of his apartment, outside his bedroom.
In the morning, things would be different.
Percy's life hung by a thread, and after all this time, the Fates were ready to cut it.
The city still buzzed with energy beneath him.
In bathroom, everything was still on the bench, the light still on. For everyone to see.
thanks for reading guys, gals and non-binary pals :)
before i go, i have to say this.
suicide is not the answer. it never is the answer. contrary to how it is being presented in this particular fictitious story, sometimes, all you need to reconsider making a horrible decision is talking to someone.
please take advantage of that resource. normalise calling a suicide hotline. it's there to help.
i love you, if you're feeling anything like percy in this story i urge you to get the help and support you need. if you need a friend, my tumblr is Qwertykevin. message me if you need it. i'm not a qualified therapist or anything but i can be a friend if you need one. or you can pm me on here.
a suicide hotline number in america is 1-800-723-8255 or 13 11 14 in australia. if you need other international resources, head over to .
every life is precious. that includes yours
3