Chapter 2:
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, all characters belong to Rick Riordan.
TW: abused!Percy and depictions of self-harm/dissociation and panic attacks
A/N: Happy holidays! Wanted to get this out before midnight, but oh well. As a side note, there are many different reasons as to why someone may self-harm, and all reasons are valid. The way that I portray it in this chapter (as well as other things such as panic attacks, derealization/dissociation, etc.) is representative of some of my own personal experiences with these topics. Anyways, this chapter is very long, so hope you guys enjoy!
Percy was back at the museum. Rather, he was in the fountain, outside the front of the museum. He quickly scanned his surroundings, and saw Grover sitting at the fountain nearby, Nancy and her flock of friends gossiping about how much trouble Percy was in.
As Percy moved to get out of the water, a subtle hiss made him freeze.
He looked up. Mrs. Dodds had appeared out of nowhere, a threatening gleam in red glowing eyes.
"You've been giving us problems, honey," she snarled, claws emerging from her elongating fingers, teeth warping into wickedly sharp fangs.
Percy's eyes darted from side to side— why was no one else reacting to this monster? He gulped in fear as she prepared to pounce, large wings flared behind her.
What can I do? Percy thought frantically. The sword, I need the sword, where's the sword?—
Percy searched for Mr. Brunner, and he spotted him at the bottom of the museum steps. "Mr. Brunner!" Percy shouted, voice cracking. "I need your help!"
But Mr. Brunner remained seated in his wheelchair, calmly turning the pages of his book as he sipped from his heated thermos– oblivious to Percy and a demonic Mrs. Dodds ready to tear out his throat.
It was no use, he had to fight Mrs. Dodds defenseless and unarmed. As Percy's gaze trailed back to her, she was giving him a malicious leer, as if suggesting— Why would anyone believe a freak like you?
Legs tensed, then she lunged at him with a growl.
Percy tried to roll to the side– please work, it needs to work– but a heavy leathery wing slammed into his side, sending him flying. Percy landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him.
Mrs. Dodds let out a victorious screech, seizing the moment to plunge her claws into his exposed stomach.
Percy screamed, writhing at the agony of skin splitting, muscle torn asunder from bone with each swipe from curved talons– blood soaking into the water, turning it a deep crimson red.
A brief pause and Percy could blurrily make out Mrs. Dodds staring at his chest in shock as tendons reconnected and skin formed, the water undoing her monstrous work.
Mrs. Dodds slowly grinned, an evil sadistic smirk, and terror returned twofold– Gabe had worn the same expression when he had first discovered his healing abilities, using a pocket knife as he had plunged it down, down, down on the freak experiment–
Percy was unconsolable as he delved into a fit of hysterics, flailing and fighting to get free–
"Let me go, no, please!" Percy choked out between gasping heaves. Pleading eyes searched the crowd of people chatting casually on the sidewalk– they couldn't see him, couldn't help him, couldn't save him–
Mrs. Dodds/Gabe seemed to enjoy his sobs, basking in the wake of his fear. They let him struggle, before pinning his arms down. They waited for Percy to look at them, sea-green orbs filled with horror– then the torture began anew.
An eternity dragged by as they toyed with Percy, laughing at his screams– he must be in hell. The pain was unrelenting– stabbing, twisting, ripping–
Percy woke with a strangled gasp. His mattress was sodden with sweat, and Percy couldn't stop his hand from shaking as he grabbed his alarm clock.
3:04 a.m. He roughly threw the thing at the foot of his bed, where it bounced then landed with a small thud on the thin carpet. Only 3 hours of sleep, Percy thought miserably.
Percy didn't even bother trying to go back to sleep, he knew it would be pointless. His adrenaline was pumping and even if he managed to drift off, he'd probably just have another nightmare.
It had been almost a month since the field trip, and the entire campus was completely convinced that some blond woman named Mrs. Kerr– he had never seen her before in his life until the end of the field trip as she hopped on the bus– had been the only pre-algebra teacher at Yancy since Christmas.
Whenever Percy would try to spring a Mrs. Dodds reference, they gave him a weird look like he was insane. Yet he couldn't shake his gut feeling that something had happened at the museum.
But as the weeks went by with everyone acting like Mrs. Dodds had never existed, Percy wondered if maybe he was crazy– a psychotic episode with auditory and visual hallucinations? – and was partially tempted to get a quick screening for undiagnosed schizophrenia.
Yeah, he had looked up his symptoms– the migraines he had gotten from researching online, his dyslexia was only worsened as the backlit letters crawled around on the tiny screen– but he needed to know what was going on. Otherwise, how could no one else remember Mrs. Dodds?
He had other similar situations that had happened in the past that supported his wavering suspicions– memories of a stalker in a black trench coat with a single brown eye located directly in the center of his forehead, of large great white sharks pleading with him to free them– when he had jumped back in shock, he had accidentally bumped the wrong lever on the catwalk which led to an unplanned swim for the rest of the class. Yeah, sounds pretty insane.
Percy would've dismissed the entire thing with Mrs. Dodds as just another twisted illusion his mind had conjured– maybe one too many flashbacks that day– if not for the vivid nightmares filled with glinting talons and bared fangs that left him trembling.
–And Grover.
Grover was notoriously a bad liar. Anytime Percy mentioned the name Dodds, Grover would avoid eye contact– sweat beading along his brow– as he muttered under his breath that she didn't exist.
It was like Grover was trying to convince himself rather than Percy. His friend looked so anxious about it that Percy felt bad and stopped bringing it up.
Percy sighed as he grudgingly got out of bed to pick up the alarm clock. The wind was howling outside his window, rain pouring down so heavily it sounded like rocks hitting the glass pane– right, there was supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight– and Percy felt his heart start to race as he clumsily placed the clock on his bedside table.
Percy hated storms. The violent flashes of lightning, the booming peals of thunder– it made him feel restless and anxious– unsafe– and it seemed like at any moment the god of lightning himself would strike Percy down. It would make Percy cry out in terror when he was younger, which did not please Gabe.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a strike of lightning illuminated the room for an instant, succeeded by a jarring crash of thunder, and Percy jumped. Not good, not safe, need to leave, need to escape before Gabe found him–
Percy paced the room in a frenzy– pins and needles prickling his skin, itching, burning. Gabe wasn't here, he's not here, he reminded himself, but all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears– felt it beating out of his chest– compounded with the rumbling thunder in a discordant cacophony of noise.
Breathe, you need to breathe, the logical part of his mind that was still functioning reminded him. But he was breathing, it wasn't his fault that there wasn't enough oxygen in his tiny constricted room and breathing wasn't working and he was suffocating–
Black spots danced at the edges of his vision and his steps ground to a halt as a dizzy spell washed over him– hot and cold flashes tingling, body shaking– and he wheezed as air entered his lungs in short hyperventilating hiccups– was he dying? Was he already dead?
Percy couldn't think, couldn't feel, but at the same time he felt too much and he couldn't breathe–
Locked in a state of paralysis, Percy remained frozen as a loud crash accompanied by a shower of freezing rain and glass dragged him under and–
He was cowering in the dimly lit closet, hands clamped tightly in anxiety as he braced for the next wave of thunder to come. The storm had been going on for hours now, and his mom was still at work. Percy could hear faint voices trailing from the television– Gabe was watching the late night football game on ESPN, and had warned Percy that he would punch his lights out if he heard a single peep from him.
So Percy had retreated to the confines of his room, moving into the open closet in an attempt to silence any noises that he couldn't repress. Luckily, it appeared to be working.
A huge streak of lightning shot across the sky, landing what seemed to be only a few feet from the apartment complex. A slight whir before a click could be heard, and Percy was plunged into darkness– the electricity had gone out, as indicated by an angry yell from Gabe.
BOOM
Percy was unable to hold back a short shriek as the next clap of thunder– the loudest one so far– shook the entire building. Percy slapped a hand over his mouth, tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he silently prayed that Gabe hadn't heard him.
His prayers were left unanswered– ignored– as Percy heard heavy footsteps pounding towards his room, the door aggressively slammed open.
"What did I tell you, punk?" Gabe growled. "One peep and you're out!"
Percy tried to retreat, blubbered apologies pouring out from his mouth, but his back hit the wall– he was trapped.
Gabe jumped on him, pinning him down– his weight crushing Percy's chest– as Gabe let out a flurry of blows.
PUNCH
BOOM
SLAP
BOOM
SMACK
Each thunderous rumble from the storm was followed by seconds, minutes, hours of suffering as Percy was hit over and over again– Gabe was merciless in his brutal punishment.
He's holding true to his promise, Percy numbly thought as he slipped into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.
Percy's sense of sound was the first thing to return as he groggily awoke from the clutches of darkness, and he distantly heard a voice that he couldn't understand past the loud ringing in his ears. Who–?
The next thing was touch, and Percy felt hands shaking his limp body– they were Gabe's rough, meaty hands grabbing, pulling, hurting. He bolted upright in an instant– arms flailing to ward off his abuser– wincing as his head exploded in pain.
Slowly his sight came back to him, and he recognized that the intruder was a lot shorter and slimmer than Gabe, with bountiful curly locks atop his head– Grover?
Grover was in his room, kneeling on the ground beside him with his arms lowered, a cautious yet concerned look on his face.
"W-why are you here?" Percy rasped coarsely, his throat dry and aching.
"I heard a crash, and came to make sure you were alright." Grover's voice was soft and soothing, as if he were approaching a skittish animal. "Looks like the wind blew out your windows."
Percy only nodded– he couldn't find the energy to speak.
Grover didn't say anything else, just gingerly stood up and offered him a hand.
Percy accepted it gratefully, grimacing as he felt shards of glass shift underneath him. He became aware of the slight burning sensation on his face and back, and as Percy delicately raised his hand to his face, he realized some of the fragments had lodged themselves in his cheek, the rain healing over them with a thin layer of skin.
Percy paled. Had Grover seen? He glanced at Grover warily, but his friend wasn't even looking at him. He relaxed slightly— it must be too dark for him to see.
Grover was still holding his hand with a firm, yet gentle grip as he pulled Percy towards the door.
"Wait, where are we going?" Percy's voice trembled as he weakly struggled to break free.
"We have to get you to the nurse's office, you have glass all over you," Grover explained patiently.
"No, I'm fine," Percy insisted, heart fluttering nervously— no one could find out!
"Just in case." Grover continued walking and Percy was powerless to stop him.
"Hold on!" Percy protested, and Grover watched him, pausing as he waited for Percy to finish. "Just— Just give me a moment to go to the bathroom, ok?"
Grover hesitated, before acquiescing, finally letting go of Percy's hand. "Alright, but we really have to get you checked out. Try to make it quick."
Percy all but sprinted to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he let out a deep exhale. That was close— too close. Percy took a minute to collect himself before inspecting his wounds in the mirror.
Ouch, this was going to take a lot of time— and maybe more than a little bit of discomfort. Pecy grabbed the tweezers from the first aid kit— Grover's idea to keep a first aid kit in the bathroom, and Percy was thankful for his friend's insight. Percy hissed silently as he carefully extracted the first piece. It began to bleed, but he quickly splashed it with some water from the sink, and the cut healed itself— a white scratch, then a small scar before it faded. One down, at least twenty more to go.
Percy pressed on, moving to a shard that had nestled itself firmly above his eyebrow, then the one on his chin. It became a sort of routine— grab, pull, rinse, repeat— and he felt himself relaxing with each cycle. Soon enough, he had finished his face– now onto his back.
This was a bit trickier, obviously, but Percy found that he didn't mind the pain— in a weird way, it almost felt… good. Of course, it still hurt, but it was his hurt, his pain. For the first time, his attention was solely fixated on tending to his wounds— no ants, no pins, no needles— his body was obeying and doing what he wanted it to do. For maybe the first time in his life, Percy was the one in control— the revelation made his mind reel.
It almost made him laugh, how ironic it was– how pain was the solution to his problems– it was so pathetic and sad. One of the only good things in his life and it was just as twisted as he was.
Percy ripped out the last chunk harshly, and he let the blood seep out– a warm, velvety trail of scarlet copper– before eventually dripping water on it. As it finished healing, Percy stepped out of the bathroom.
"Hey, sorry about the wait," Percy said tiredly to Grover. He was worn out– nerves frayed, mind spent– and wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep for the next eternity. But he had kept Grover waiting, so he slowly shuffled towards his friend.
"No worries," Grover replied absentmindedly, scanning Percy's face. "You good?"
Percy could barely manage to lift the corners of his mouth in a small forced grin as he responded, "Yeah, just tired."
"Any injuries?"
Percy shook his head, making up some white lie. "Nah, just had to brush off all of the glass, nothing serious."
Grover observed him quietly, before nodding. "I think we should still get you examined, just to make sure."
Percy didn't respond as he headed towards the door, Grover following closely behind. He could feel Grover's piercing stare boring into the back of his head, but Percy ignored it, focusing on walking straight to avoid stumbling into the hallway walls.
When they arrived at the nurse's office, Percy winced at the blinding fluorescent lights. He didn't bother to listen to Grover or the nurse, he headed straight for the nearest bed and collapsed onto it.
The hushed whispers from the two went unheard by Percy, who finally slipped into a deep dreamless sleep.
"–worried about Percy–"
"I understand, Grover–"
Two voices intertwined, stretching into the slim reaches of Percy's consciousness. He was being carried, if the gentle swaying– back and forth– was any indication.
He heard the clop of– hooves?– as they slowly walked back to the dorms. Through weary lids, he made out a hazy outline of a horse's back. Percy blinked.
When his eyes drifted in front of him, he saw a man's figure standing in front of him– except the man wasn't standing, instead his upper body was smoothly grafted at the area where the horse's neck should've been.
Percy's mind went blank. I must be dreaming, he decided, and closed his eyes, dismissing the dim murmurs from the two speakers– Grover and Mr. Brunner. The calm rocking soon lulled him back to sleep.
The next day, the inspectors came to investigate the damaged window. A miracle, they claimed, that he hadn't been injured.
The window was quickly replaced and life continued. The weather only got worse and Percy found himself pulling all-nighters, unwilling to have a repeat of nightmares or panic attacks.
Percy was endlessly exhausted. In the mornings, he would run a quick shower to give him a punch of energy— if he didn't have time, he'd simply pour a cup of water over his head. It worked, but only enough to carry him to each class— he couldn't stay awake long enough to listen to Mr. Nicoll's boring lectures about how to spell obedience.
Percy's grades slipped lower and lower— transitioning from straight Ds to Fs— he constantly got into bickers with Nancy and her gang, and his teachers would scold him for not paying attention. Exams are coming up in a couple weeks, they reminded him. You need to do better, unless you want to be left behind…
They would trail off at the end, a poorly veiled threat to study longer, work harder, be better. Percy didn't need them to tell him this, he was already worried enough about Grover going off to 7th grade on his own– there's no way Grover would ever fight back against his bullies– and Percy needed Grover, as much as Grover needed Percy.
So Percy dedicated to his studies, ignoring the ear-splitting headaches and chronic migraines– the pain helped distract him from his thoughts, though he would see dancing letters of text floating across his vision for the rest of the day.
But his grades were still not improving– at least they weren't getting worse– and Percy's weary mind couldn't handle the buckets of information he was soaking in. Misspelled words, incorrect grammar– his tests came back with red marks covering his messy handwriting.
His anxiety skyrocketed the week before finals, and Percy unconsciously picked up the bad habit of biting his fingernails— it calmed him down, the slight tingles of pain stabilizing him back to reality before he could spiral into a whirlwind of worry. His nail beds were worn down to stubs, but he didn't care— not if it kept him from being paralyzed, unable to move or breathe as overwhelming dread sank in his stomach.
Unfortunately, it hadn't worked well enough to stop Percy from snapping at Mr. Nicoll, who had called him lazy and stupid for not knowing simple spelling. Percy received notice the following week that he would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy– but of course, he would still have to take his finals.
Percy had mixed feelings about leaving Yancy. He was glad that he would finally get to see his mom– he had missed her, and worried about leaving her alone with Gabe. He had sent letters, but the last time they had spoken face-to-face was at Christmas.
On the other hand, there was Gabe– Percy dreaded going back to that apartment for obvious reasons.
Percy had never planned on going to Yancy, but his mom had signed him up, paid his tuition in full– a fact he still felt guilty about– all to get him away from Gabe.
His mom had gotten off of work early that Saturday night, planning on surprising Percy when she got home. Instead, she had walked in on Gabe beating the living daylights out of him, almost unconscious with two broken ribs.
Sally had the three digit number on her phone, ready to make the call. But Gabe– Gabe was craftier than Percy had thought.
Gabe managed to de-escalate the situation, arguing that if Sally called the cops, they would separate Percy not only from him, but from her as well.
See how much they like the idea of a broke single mother raising a troubled child while working two full-time jobs, he had scoffed. You need me.
Sally hesitated– her baby boy would be taken from her?– and Gabe snatched the opportunity to sneak his way back into her good graces.
Look, I won't hit the kid anymore, Gabe promised. Send him off to some private boarding school or something, I don't care. But calling the cops? He shook his head in false disappointment. That's not something we would want.
Sally knew that she should've called the cops– Poseidon had warned her not to keep Percy too close– but how could she say goodbye to her sweet child? So with a heavy heart, she set down the phone, not noticing Gabe's twisted smirk.
That night, while Percy was at the hospital recovering– fell down the stairs being the excuse written down on his chart– his mom had done hours of research, looking into hundreds of different boarding school before finally settling on Yancy Academy. She had cried as Percy walked through those entrance gates.
Though he had a rough start adjusting from a public to private school at first, Percy realized that he actually liked Yancy. The teachers were sub-par, aside from Mr. Brunner– and Mrs. Dodds, if she even existed, was worse than sub-par– but he liked the campus, liked his dorm room. Most importantly, he had met Grover, the first friend he had ever made.
Percy's heart clenched as he thought about Grover. Ever since the night of the thunderstorm, Percy had felt… distant from his best friend.
Grover tried to talk to Percy about what happened the morning following, but Percy had ignored him– not wanting to explain himself, or the nightmares and flashbacks he had been having.
Percy continued the cold shoulder treatment– fleeing into his room whenever Grover returned from the library, finding a new spot to eat lunch, and generally just doing his best to avoid the elephant in the room.
Percy felt bad about it, especially when he spotted Grover's hurt expression as he moved his chair to the other side of the room in Mr. Brunner's class. Mr. Brunner– still in a wheelchair, no horse legs to be seen– had observed the interaction with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
Percy had contemplated being honest with Grover, but when he thought about telling him about what had happened– he felt his heart skip a beat, chest heavy as all the words he wanted to say clogged in his throat–
No, Percy couldn't say anything about it. Grover must've realized this, since he stopped approaching Percy– opting to stare at him with sad, kind hazel eyes.
With finals around the corner, Percy didn't have the time to think about how to resolve this situation, but he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't miss his friend, the laughter as Grover raced to the lunch line on enchilada day, crippled leg seemingly forgotten. It had added to his ever-growing list of things to worry about, and his nails got shorter and shorter.
It was exam week, and Percy had given up on his other classes. There was just no way he could cram that much material into his stupid brain.
But Percy didn't want to leave Yancy with Mr. Brunner thinking he hadn't tried his hardest to get the best grade he could– probably a big fat F since he was unable to remember the easy material, like the difference between Chiron and Charon.
The evening before his final, Percy was ripping his hair out in frustration as he tried reading the tiny words bouncing off of the pages on his copy of the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology. Why was this so difficult for him?
Percy weighed his options– fail this final or apologize to Mr. Brunner in advance before failing his final. He sighed, absentmindedly gnawing on his thumbnail.
Percy never liked asking teachers for help– they would usually get upset at him when he couldn't read the text or sit motionless long enough for them to properly explain the material. But Percy knew that Mr. Brunner was different from the other teachers– right?
Percy grabbed his textbook as he made his way out the door– maybe Mr. Brunner would at least be able to give him some pointers.
As Percy navigated through the dark faculty hallway, he saw a light up ahead, and he realized with relief that Mr. Brunner was still in his office.
But as he heard a familiar voice drifting out from the open door, he froze– Grover?
Percy cautiously inched closer towards the lit room, careful not to make a sound as he listened to their conversation.
"–worried about Percy, sir. He's going to be alone this summer, and he saw Mrs. Dodds–"
All sound faded into a piercing buzz– what was he saying? Mrs. Dodds was real? He forced himself to pay attention.
"Just his imagination," Percy heard Mr. Brunner insist. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that."
A mumble from Grover, too soft that Percy couldn't hear what was said, but he heard Mr. Brunner's response clear as day as he said, "Let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall–"
His textbook fell out of his hands with a loud thud.
Silence.
Percy dimly understood that this was probably the part where he was supposed to hide, and his body reacted, working on auto-pilot as Percy saw himself grabbing the book before entering the nearest door and slipping inside.
He waited in darkness as they passed his door– clopping noises instead of footsteps– and quietly discussed something before they left, the lights in Mr. Brunner's office finally shutting off.
He didn't move from his spot, even though he knew they had long since gone– he wasn't sure he could move.
Grover knew. He knew that Percy had seen Mrs. Dodds, that he had been in danger, that he had fought her– and he hadn't said anything. No, worse than that, he had said something– he had said it was all in Percy's imagination.
The revelation shocked him to the core, and Percy watched as his body sunk to the floor– arms wrapped around his knees as if attempting to keep himself from falling apart.
Grover had lied to him, made Percy think he was going crazy– why? Percy felt tears beading at his eyes– stop, Gabe doesn't like it when you cry– but the betrayal ached so badly that not even broken ribs could compare.
Percy hadn't realized it was even possible for emotions to cause agony like this– too much, too much, too much– he needed a distraction, a release. Percy sunk his teeth into arm– metallic copper spilled from split skin– as he let out a stifled sob, tears leaking past clenched eyes.
The flash of pain momentarily grounded him as his attention was diverted to focus on the wound– emotions were pushed to the side. It felt so good– physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish of his own feelings. Percy could control this hurt, could feel in control of himself as his inner turmoil was suppressed by a chilling wave of numbness.
Grover had lied to him– why? They were supposed to be friends– had Percy ruined it with his silence? Why didn't you just say something? Percy brooded despairingly. Grover was just worried– like a good friend– and you ignored him.
No wonder he left, Percy thought blankly. In the back of his mind, a small rational part in his head spoke up– no, he didn't leave, I'm sure everything will be fine if you clear things up.
Percy was too strained to even think about Mr. Brunner or the apparent "danger" he was in. He needed to talk to Grover– needed to fix this– and get his side of the story. Maybe he'll tell me the truth.
With that, Percy slowly stood up, his bones creaky from sitting still for so long. He walked out of the room and made his way past the dark offices up to the dorms.
When he arrived, he saw Grover lying on the couch in the common area, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night– another lie.
Percy's heart constricted uneasily. Would he tell the truth? But there was no turning back, no getting out of it. If Percy wanted honesty, he needed to give it first.
Grover glanced up, then did a double-take as he noticed Percy standing at the doorway– no more running away. His hazel brown eyes widened in shock, then concern as he quietly asked, "Percy, are you alright?"
Percy didn't answer. Instead his voice trembled as he stuttered, "I-I know I haven't been the best friend lately. And I'm s-sorry for that."
Grover looked at him– always such kind eyes– and gently said, "It's ok, I forgive you."
Percy felt a wave of relief– a good sign– and continued deliberately. "I've been having… nightmares," he gulped, flashes of Mrs. Dodds appearing in his mind. "I-I don't know if it's real or not, but I can't sleep because of them."
Among other things, he didn't include– Grover didn't need to know about Gabe, or the flashbacks, or his latest bad habits. He took a deep breath, praying silently for the best as he asked, "Do you know who Mrs. Dodds is?"
Up until that point, Grover had been sitting calmly, expression conveying sympathy. But at his inquiry, he paled. Eyes averted, fixed on the ground. "I-I don't seem to recall…" Grover trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
Percy felt like the breath was knocked out of his lungs. Why was he still lying? Pearls of water beaded at his eyes, threatening to spill– it wasn't enough, he wasn't enough– but he fought them down as nails dug into his palms. "A-are you saying that I'm going crazy?"
Wide eyed, Grover's head jerked in frantic denial, hands waving. "N-no, but…" Grover couldn't finish his sentence.
"What are these nightmares? Why does no one else remember?" Percy laughed wetly, voice heavy with restrained sobs. "Why are you lying to me?" Percy felt tears push their way forward– he couldn't stop them anymore– burning his cheeks as they leaked out.
Grover just sat there silently, dismay apparent on his face. "Percy–"
"Stop!" Percy interrupted, shoulders shaking as he roughly wiped the salty streaks from his face. "I heard you talking to Mr. Brunner. Mrs. Dodds was real– she was, and you both lied to me about it, made me believe I was going crazy."
"How could you lie to me like this? You knew– you knew she was real and you had the nerve to tell me that you were worried for me because I was hallucinating about demon math teachers, that there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds!" Percy continued to rant, weeks of repressed emotions, thoughts pouring out with a torrent of tears. "I thought we were friends–"
"We are!" Grover burst out, eyes watery.
A moment of hesitation as Percy processed this information. "Then… why?" Percy asked brokenly.
Grover sighed heavily, "Percy… I-I can't tell you. It's my job to protect you."
Protect him? Percy blinked. "How…?"
But Grover was shaking his head. "I can't tell you," he repeated glumly. "But I can tell you that you're not crazy, and I promise, we are friends."
Percy wanted to pry, wanted to scream at the unfairness, but it was late, he was tired, and the ants were back full-force– itching to be released and he needed to go, needed a break.
"I-I can't deal with this right now," Percy mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Grover said carefully. "We can talk about this more later, yeah?"
Percy couldn't respond– what's the point if you're just going to keep lying to me?– as he simply walked to his room, closing the door softly.
That night, Percy didn't get any sleep, instead opting to gouge more bite marks into his damaged arms.
Percy couldn't seem to meet Mr. Brunner's eyes, and it wasn't just because of the three-hour Latin exam that he knew he had failed– Percy's head was still swimming with all the Greek and Roman names that he'd misspelled.
After the exam, Mr. Brunner had called Percy back inside– had he found out about the eavesdropping?
Percy wasn't sure how to feel about Mr. Brunner anymore. At first, Mr. Brunner was simply his favorite teacher, the crazy tournament days becoming a fun outlet for his commonly scorned ADHD. But as Mr. Brunner continued to express faith in Percy throughout the year, believing in his abilities as a student, Percy had grown to see him as a sort-of paternal figure– if that was what a father was supposed to be like.
And yet, that paternal figure had deceived him, weaving a tale so convincing that everybody else was wrapped into believing there was no Mrs. Dodds, that Percy was the crazy one. It was painful– a betrayal of a different kind compared to Grover– a dull throbbing in his chest instead of a brutal stabbing to the heart.
So Percy decided to remain silent, feet tapping the ground anxiously as he waited for Mr. Brunner to speak. He absently noted the presence of the other kids in the room, still finishing their finals.
"Percy," Mr. Brunner started softly. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's… it's for the best."
Percy flushed in shame– there were other students that could hear him. But that feeling was soon overridden by a surge of anger. He was so sick of being kept in the dark– so he was just going to ignore everything that happened last night?
Mr. Brunner continued haltingly, unsure of what to say– unaware of Percy's roiling emotions. "I mean, this isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."
Hurt. Again and again, the people he trusted lying to him– Mr. Brunner said he had believed in him, now he's saying Percy was destined to get kicked out? Percy bit his lip to prevent stinging eyes from overflowing, the pain a welcome distraction. "Right," he managed to get out, voice shaky.
"No, no," Mr. Brunner groaned in frustration. "What I'm trying to say is… you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be–"
"Not normal?" Percy blurted out hotly. "Are you saying that I'm crazy, sir?"
"Percy–"
"I know that Mrs. Dodds was real." Percy hissed venomously.
Mr. Brunner's eyes widened in shock, speechless.
"What is happening to me?" Percy questioned, his words heavy with suppressed torment. "What am I in danger from?"
Percy waited a moment– would Mr. Brunner be upfront with him?– but Mr. Brunner remained silent, dark brown eyes filled with sadness and– regret? Shaking his head, Percy left the room with a whispered, "I thought you were different."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Percy looked outside the window on the Greyhound back to his apartment, pointedly ignoring the fidgeting Grover who was seated beside him.
Grover was glancing around nervously at the other passengers, looking like he expected an attack at any moment. Occasionally, he would open his mouth as if to say something, but then he shut it without a word.
Finally, Percy decided to bite the bullet. "You know, you're a really bad liar."
Grover turned towards him, his ears pink.
"You think I didn't know something was up everytime I brought up Mrs. Dodds?" Percy questioned quietly. "I knew, but I decided to trust you because you were my best friend."
"I'm sorry, Percy," Grover said softly. "I really am."
Percy nodded hesitantly. "I think you are, but I just… don't know if I can trust you anymore." Sea-green eyes turned to Grover, imploring. "Prove that I can trust you again. At least tell me, how am I in danger?"
Grover sighed heavily, before fishing into his shirt pocket. He handed Percy a worn out business card, written in fancy script.
It took a couple minutes as the cursive letters murdered Percy's dyslexic eyes, but finally made out something like "Grover Underwood, Keeper" then an address below it to some place called "Half-Blood Hill" in Long Island, New York.
"What's Half–"
"Don't say it aloud," Grover warned, anxiously scanning to see if anyone was listening in. "That's my, um… summer address."
Percy was honestly shocked. He hadn't considered that Grover's family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.
Grover continued, "Come to that address if you need me, or if you need protection."
Percy absently nodded, but his attention was diverted by the three old ladies that were staring at him from the shade of a maple tree outside the window. There was a loud grinding noise under his feet as the Greyhound limped over to the side of the highway– the engine ground to a halt.
The ladies would've looked almost normal, had it not been for the huge pair of socks that they were knitting– and the sudden feeling of dread boiling in the pit of his stomach. These ladies were worse than Mrs. Dodds– that was what his instincts were screaming at him.
Grover noticed that Percy's concentration was not on their conversation, and he leaned forward. "Percy, what–"
When Grover saw the ladies, he went pale.
"Grover," Percy whispered carefully. "Tell me the truth: are those ladies the same as Mrs. Dodds? Because I'm getting a very bad feeling." Percy paused, before trailing off. "Maybe something worse than Mrs. Dodds."
Before Grover could answer, the middle woman cut the yarn, and Percy could've sworn that he could hear the snip from across four lanes of traffic. All his hairs stood on edge and the air seemed heavy– heavy with the sense of imminent death. Percy felt feverish– hot flashes, uncontrollable trembling– as if he'd caught the flu.
"What did you see." Grover's voice was flat, but his friend was white and shaking.
"The middle one cut the yarn," Percy said weakly. "Grover, is somebody going to die?"
Grover didn't seem to hear him, mumbling to himself fearfully.
"Not again–"
"Always sixth, they never get past sixth grade–"
Percy was getting scared. "Grover, tell me what's going on–"
Grover interrupted him, deathly serious. "Percy, let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."
Percy hesitated. "I promise."
Grover nodded tersely, and the rest of the trip was spent in tense stillness– both of them lost in their thoughts.