I was really hoping to get seven more reviews before putting this chapter up, but I feel that my loyal reviewers have wait long enough. However, college is about to start again so my updates may not be as frequent. I hope this chapter will inspire you to review and satisfy you until my next update.

~Who Wrote This Crap

P.S. (still hoping for at least 7 more reviews )

Minxmessenger- Yes eventually this will tie into the Haunting Voices and The Will.

Anon- You want trauma? I'll give you trauma.

Suffering

Chapter Three: Stressed

Percy could hear voices talking somewhere high above him. They were familiar voices whose owners he couldn't quite name yet. He couldn't make out what they were saying, they were so far away. But they were calm and comforting, and just listening to them made him feel warm and safe. He felt someone stroke his hair and gently squeeze his hand. It was all so very nostalgic of the days when he was a child, sick in bed. He felt like he was back at the Burrow . . . back home . . . and he felt something else too, something he hadn't felt in a long time . . . loved. He knew whose voices they were, now. And he squeezed their hand in return. They stopped talking, then softly spoke again, this time they weren't so far away.

"Percy?"

"Can you hear us?"

He didn't want the feeling to end, but as he body woke up, so did his memories. His fight with Dad- no, not Dad, -his father, slamming the door in his mother's face, the hexed hate mail he received from the siblings he once loved, learning of his father's attack, the guilt of doing nothing about it, the Christmas he spent all alone. All the horrible, yet powerful memories came rushing back to him. And just like that, the little spark that came with the joy of being loved extinguished within his heart, and he was cold once again.

"Percy, are you awake?"

Percy struggled to open his eyes. The whole world was blurry. Instinctively he reached for his glasses, or at least he meant to. In reality, he barely moved his arms. Why were they so heavy? And his chest- who was sitting on him so that he could hardly breathe? Whoever or whatever it was needed to get the hell off him. Get off me! he tried to say but all that came out was a grunt.

"Percy what is it?" asked the red blur that was his mother. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts," he managed to rasp. "m' chest." It took a lot of effort for him to speak, but if there was a chance it could take the weight on his chest away, then it was worth it.

"I know it hurts," she said stroking his hair again. "The healer said it might take a while to get used to."

Get used to it? That was the healer's solution? Wait, the healer? Where am I? he tried to ask, but it came out more like, "Weren my?"

"You're in the hospital, dear," she softly told him.

There was movement on the other side of him; someone else was there too, a man. He slide Percy's glasses onto his face and the world came into focus. "There you go." he said.

It was his father. Percy took a long and hard look at him. He looked older and more tired than he remember. For some reason Percy was almost mad at him for looking so old. But what was really bothering him was how nervous- even scared he appeared, and how he struggled with trying to simply look him in the eye. Maybe he would rather be anywhere else than here? He probably only came here because Mother made him, or maybe just out of obligation.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked him in a neutral voice, with his best poker-face.

It immediately became apparent that his words had hurt his father. His father swallowed hard and looked at him. "You're my son" he said in a shaky voice. "How could I not be here?" His father took his hand, and subconsciously Percy made a jerking motion to pull his hand away. He heard is mother choke back a sob, as his father reluctantly let go of his hand.

He rose out of his chair muttering some about going to fetch some glasses of water.

This only infuriated Percy even more. He felt rejected by the man. Part of him wanted to yell Come back and fight for me! He wanted his father to prove that he wanted to be here, that he would stay with him no matter what Percy said or did. This wasn't the father he knew as a child, the man he looked up to, who was brave and fearless. This was a coward who walks away at the first sign of confrontation.

"Wait," Percy said before he could stop himself. They looked at him, expecting him to elaborate on his demand. "What happened to me?" Percy asked thinking quickly.

He really didn't have any idea how he ended up here or why his chest hurt so badly. His parents looked at each other, as if trying to decide how much to tell him about whatever happened.

"I want to know everything." he told them as firmly as he could. He tried to push himself up in attempt to appear authoritative, but all he did was cause himself an extreme surge of pain that coursed throughout his chest. Percy cried out and immediately his mother and father were at his side slowly helping him lay back down.

"What happened to me?" he asked once the pain subsided and his breathing evened out.

After a short pause his father asked him, "What's the last thing you remember?"

Percy racked his brain, "I said 'goodnight' to the Minister and was staying late in my office finishing some documents. When I was about to leave I saw . . . Harry Potter . . ." The rest of that night's events flashed before his eyes as memories came flooding back to him. Following his ex-schoolmates into the Hall of Prophecy, being surrounded by Death Eaters, the spinning hall of fiery crosses, Ron being strangled by a brain, Bellatrix chasing him, feeling insufferable agony, wishing for death, a horrible high cold voice, a man hovering over him with red slit-pupiled eyes and a snake-like face, pointing his wand at him, darkness and pain until, finally, . . . nothing.

"He's back," Percy said breathlessly. "You-Know-Who is back." His heart was racing. His sweaty hands clutched the warm white sheets.

His mother put a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Calm down."

"Molly" his father said suddenly. He pried one of Percy's hands from the sheets. "Look". Percy looked down at his hands.

They were covered with blood.

"What-" Percy held his bloodied palms to his eyes. He inspected them but couldn't see any cuts or abrasions on his hands. There was no pain, just blood. "What is this? What's going on?" He looked to his parents for answers, "What's happening to me?" but they had none to give.

"Arthur-" Mother started.

"I'll go find a Healer Crispen," his father said darting out the door.

The moment his father was out the door, Bill came rushing in.

"Mum, I saw Dad running down the hall. Is everything alright-?" Bill stopped in his tracks when he saw Percy. "Perce," He hurried over to his bedside, "Bloody hell. Are you alright?"

"I-I think so," Percy said trying and failing miserably to suppress the panic rising within him. "But that's the problem. I'm not cut or hurt or anything, but there's blood all over my hands." Percy feverishly began wiping his hands off on the sheets. Bill waved his wand and several pillows appeared. Bill packed them behind Percy, propping him up.

"Right," Bill's voice remained calm, but his eyes told a different story. "Don't panic, Percy. Dad's gone to get a Healer and they'll sort this out."

As if on cue, his father and a Healer he presumed was Crispen burst into the room. Crispen's wand was at the ready.

"Hold out your hands." Crispen instructed him. Percy did as he was told.

"Tergeo."

The simple cleaning spell cleared away the blood, and the Healer grabbed his hand and started pulling on his skin. He inspected in between his fingers, under his nails, every inch of his hand. Then he put his wand to Percy's wrist and slowly slid it down his palm in a motion that almost tickled. His hand began to heat up as though someone had just place a very thick woolen mitten on it. Droplets of fresh blood began to appear on his palm. The Healer 'hmm'ed and let go of Percy's hand.

"Apparently you're sweating blood." Crispen said crossing his arms.

". . . And?"

"And what?" Cripsen said confused.

"What does that mean?" Mother said losing her patience.

The Healer looked at her. "It means he's stressed."

Stress? Is that his best answer? "I've always been stressed," Percy insisted. "But I've never sweat blood before."

"We'll this can also be caused by extreme anxiety," Crispen shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. It's only natural that you'd be suffering from extreme anxiety after finding out you're dying."

The world stood still and silent. No one moved or said a thing. Percy suddenly became very aware of his own breathing.

"I'm . . . dying?"

The Healer looked at him surprised. His eyes shifted between his mother and his father, then back to Percy. "You didn't know?"

Percy numbly shook his head.

"Oh," Crispen bit his lip and hmmed again. "Well then . . ." he clasped his hands together, looking very uncomfortable. "Now you know. If you'd excuse me, I have to - I err- I have this . . . thing."

"Wait!" Percy tried to stop him. "I have . . . questions . . ." but the Healer had already scuttled out the door.

Mother let out sob and held his bloodied hand. She waved her wand and all the blood, on his skin and sheets disappeared. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"You already knew." Percy said. It was a more of a statement than a question.

"That Healer told us yesterday." Bill said, nodding to towards the door.

"What else did he tell you?" Percy asked.

Bill struggled to find the right words. "He, um, said that-"

"-they're going to do everything they can for you." his mother finished.

"Just last night they were telling us that there is something they wanted to try." his father said positively.

Percy nodded. They were keeping something from him. Something they didn't think he could handle. He just found out he was dying; what could possibly be worse than that? Unless . . .

"How are the others? Ron and Ginny? Are they okay?" Percy asked them, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

Mother wiped a tear from her eye, and his father smiled at him, "They're fine." his father said. "Thank you for taking care of them."

A surge of relief flowed through him, a welcomed change from the 'extreme stress and anxiety' he had been feeling since he remembered what happened last night. Was it last night? Percy wondered briefly before pushing aside the thought. He was growing tired and right now all he wanted to do was close his eyes, go to sleep, and forget about everything that was happening to him. He would deal with his impending doom tomorrow, when he wasn't so exhausted.

"Percy, are you feeling okay?" Bill asked his voice thick with concern.

"Tired," was all Percy could say. He was fading fast. Now it was a struggle to stay away.

"Well then," his father said shakily, "we'll let you get some rest."

His mother kissed him on the cheek, as he closed his eyes, he could feel the tears on her face. She whispered something in his ear as he drifted off to sleep.

"We love you."