A/N: Hey! Thanks for just clicking on this. This is my first story and I had this idea floating around my head when listening to my favorite songs. Please Read, Review and maybe follow. I won't put up a schedule because I have exams coming up. This might be hard to read but please be nice. Please read!

'Kay bye.

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Rick Riordan does.

_ "No, nope, nuh-uh I won't do it." I said, sitting on my couch with my knees pulled up to my chest with my forehead pressed against them.

I should probably explain what's going on. My name is Percy Jackson, I'm a 21-year-old singer. Don't ask me how that happened, I still don't know, and it's been 3 years. Anyway, I'm talking to Silena Beckendorf, (A/N: ) my therapist/friend. A beautiful woman who I love like a sister and have known since I was 16 and first diagnosed. I have anxiety, I have it now and I've had it for the past 5 years, but I guess it's been building all my life. My father, Poseidon, and my younger brother, Tyson, died in a car crash, my maternal grandparents died in a plane crash and my abusive ex-stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, died in a bank robbery (he was shot). You might not be surprised to find out that I have anxiety about leaving the house. I've watched as almost everyone I love, except Gabe, has been taken from me by the world. I know it's irrational, but I can't help but think that we would all be safe if we had stayed indoors, so now I'm here. Hiding from the world in my house.

I started singing as an outlet for my built up emotions but now it's heightened my anxiety. What if I go out and a fan sees me having a panic attack? I've kept this a secret from my followers and that is not the way I want them to find out.

Back to me curled up on the couch, Silena had just suggested group therapy, group therapy, I don't mind the group part but the leaving the house to get there part I can't do. I've tried and tried to leave the house and there are only two places outside of my home where I feel safe, "Beautiful Pastries" bakery and my Mom and step-dad's house. The bakery I'll explain another time and it's self-explanatory why I feel safe at my mom's, she's my mom, of course I'll feel safe with her and my stepdad, Paul Blofis, is a great guy. It's been hard to make friends, but I have two close ones: Grover Underwood, Jason Grace . They understand my fears and have stood by me. We all have family issues and we stick together through them all. Cheesy, I know.

"C'mon Percy, it's only group therapy." Silena said hopefully shaking me out my thoughts to look at her. She always dresses casually to come and see me, we're friends, she's wearing faded jeans, a white button-down blouse, black boots with her hair down and very little make-up. I can't help but smile at her as I bring my legs down to a crossed position and placing my hands in my lap.

I look down sadly as I say, "You know why I can't."

She bit her lip in thought. "Percy, I'm not going to drop this. I only have a couple of people who are willing to go, but they're not really. . . talkers. I need you to go and to help lead the group."

"'Lead the group'? In case you haven't noticed,I'm not great at talking to new people. I'm not the guy to lead your group."

"Yes you are!" She insisted, "You're the perfect person. Please?"

"I'll think about it." I really didn't want to, but I can't say no to her puppy dog eyes. She smiled gratefully. "But I'm not saying yes." I warned her.

She nodded, "I understand." She threw her arms around me. "See you at therapy." She whispered.

I looked at her in mock disbelief as she walked towards the door. "Where do you think you're going?"

She looked at me over her shoulder, "Home."

"No, no, no, we still have," I checked my watch, "22 minutes."

She huffed dramatically and flopped into the armchair. We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked me.

"Um. . . How's Beckendorf?" I asked lamely.

"Good, good."

"Good."

We stared at each other for a bit and eventually just burst out laughing.

"Alright, what do you really want to talk about?"

I thought about it but didn't come up with anything.

"I don't know."

"How did you feel today?"

"Good, normal."

"That's good." She noted. "Gotten any song new song ideas recently?"

"Yeah, yesterday I had some lyric ideas."

"Care to share?" she asked.

I grabbed my song book and guitar. My favorite guitar, sea green with a silver lining all the way around the edge on, like, the seam. Every cloud has a silver lining, my mom used to tell me that a lot because, well, we had a lot of clouds. That's what my life feels like, one big rain cloud, and this guitar is my silver lining. A light in the darkness and. . . more poetic things. I flicked through my book until I landed on the song I was working on.

I started to strum chords because I hadn't finished the song yet. I started to quietly sing.

I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill
I threw the day old coffee from the cup
Packed up the photo album Matthew had made
Memories of a life that's been loved
Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals
Poured the old Coca-Cola down the sink
Dad always told me, "don't you cry when you're down"
But mom, there's a tear every time that I blink

Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know
A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved. . . "

"I don't understand. Are your parents okay?" She leaned forward and stared at me, concerned.

"It's for my mom." I explain with my head facing down, "It's about what happened after my grandparents died. Their. . . anniversary, I guess, of their. . . their death is coming up in a few months and I wanted to do something for her."

"That's really sweet Percy."

"Yeah, but I want to visit her more."

"Then come to therapy." She pleaded.

"Okay, I'll really think about it."

"Yes!" she clapped her hands in celebration. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help but smile.

We talked for a bit longer but then our session ended and she had another place to be. I watched her walk to her car from the doorstep, and I heard her say something to herself as she left. But, what I heard couldn't have been right. I must be hearing things. It can't be right.

Stage 1 complete.

It can't be right.

I grabbed my guitar and went outside to continue writing my song. I only have a few more months to write it and I'm not very good at focusing or writing songs quickly. It's hard to write songs that are real, but still hide my true emotions. It would be so easy to write a song about anxiety and depression but I have to keep those two areas of my life separate.

A/N: Hello! Um. . . this is actually me from the future, I think I'm writing chapter 10 or 11 right now but I came back to change this chapter because I saw a post that was saying how all fan writers use Rachel as an easy villain when in the actual books she was a good character. (I personally always saw her as a bit desperate though) this is a really, really, really short chapter and I promise they get longer and better if you can deal with a few more short chapters. I might edit chapter 2 next.