Day before Percy locked himself in his cabin
Stupid
Worthless
Failure
Burden
Percy knew the nasty voice in his head telling him this was right. He was stupid and a failure. He couldn't save his friends from the cold clutches of death. The savior of Olympus was no hero, he was a weak, pathetic excuse for a demigod.
Thinking these things justified what he was doing in his mind.
At the moment he was sitting in the bathroom, tears dripping fluidly down his face. In the back of his mind, he noted that he was slightly shaking, and that his sobs were causing him to breathe hard.
This didn't matter to him because all he could focus on was the object in his hands doing something forbidden. Something that would make people see him as a freak.
The knife in Percy's hand went down to cut him again. That made it four. Four cuts on his wrist by his own doing.
If anyone sees this, they'll think...Gods they'll think I'm disgusting.
This realization made him sob harder and throw the knife against the wall. Gods what was the matter with him? What in the ever-loving Hades made him do that?
But he knew. He knew he did it because he deserved it. And possibly because a part of him liked it. True it hurt, but it also made him feel a little better. It distracted him in a way nothing else really did.
Knock Knock
Shit. Percy found the knife that was on the ground and tossed it in the cupboard. Rolling down his sleeve he called out to the door. "What's up?"
He recognized the voice who answered as Nico.
"I was wondering if... you were, okay? I mean you've seemed a little off lately." Nico seemed uncertain and hesitant to voice these words.
Percy went to open the door but thought better of it. It's better if he didn't see him in the state he was in. His face was still puffy from crying.
"I'm fine Nico. Nothing's wrong, but I am a bit tired. Could you tell Annabeth I'm not coming to dinner tonight?" He put in as much peppiness in that sentence as he could muster.
"Uh, alright I guess...just, tell me if you need anything." And then he left.
And never had Percy felt more alone.
He avoided leaving his cabin the next day, and the day after that. The third day in his cabin led to him...doing it again. Now instead of four cuts he had seven.
The days in his cabin were a whirl of crying, attempting sleep, more crying, and cutting.
In simple terms, his life sucked, and he knew it. Once or twice, he caught himself thinking the unthinkable. He thought of death. Suicide. But no. He wouldn't do it. He was better than that...right?
