Fall (Percy Jackson x Reader)

thirty-two

She would ask for the heat to be turned up, only a little, but Goldie always shook her head—apologies were offered, blankets were piled up, but the cold remained.

(Y/N) hated it.

One day, she had approached the bedroom window to find it closed tight, a thick padlock hanging from the clasp. She tugged and yanked and picked at it, but the lock stayed as it was.

She couldn't stargaze anymore.

She didn't even feel like crying. She just felt sad. Hurt. Maybe even betrayed, had she properly understood such an idea.

All Goldie did was apologize and then do nothing about it. As always.

October came and went, the evening of the thirty-first granting each child in Woodberry a small bowl full of candy. They were allowed to stay up late that night, trading the sweets they didn't like and hiding their favorites from those who would otherwise steal them—some made careful stashes under their mattresses while others filled up socks that missed a complement and placed them deep inside their drawers. (Y/N) had held her bowl tight to her, defending her candy should anyone try to take it.

That night, as she guarded her Halloween treats, she grew sad. Goldie had told all the children different stories of proper trick-or-treating ventures—how kids and parents would dress up in costumes and decorate houses with balloons and lights and fake cobwebs or skeletons.

At Woodberry Place, they only had the small bowls of candy.

(Y/N) went trick-or-treating with the chickens, sprinkling a small handful of seeds in front of them after humming 'trick or treat' to herself, one time for each bird. She didn't care that they'd already eaten. They could have a little extra food; it was Halloween.

She wanted to cry when Goldie called her back inside. She wanted to scream when she looked out of her padlocked window, watching the other kids chase each other while covered in the few white sheets spared for this annual occasion, holes cut out for their eyes. She wanted to run away when the cold again caused her to shiver.

Carefully, she'd prepared her clothes and coat, setting them on her chair like she always did before going to bed.

Everything Goldie did was in perfect rhythm, scheduled prior with carefully-considered intervals. She would poke her head into all the rooms at nine-fifty before reading her book until ten forty-five, and then she'd shuffle back down the stairs to take her sleeping pill before going to bed.

November first at six-fourteen, the coop's rooster woke (Y/N) up. She'd rubbed her eyes while frowning, waiting for the familiar sound of Goldie's slippers on the stairs; the chickens would be fed and then Goldie would go back to sleep until seven twenty-five. (Y/N) waited as the stairs creaked once, going down, and then again a few moments later. She gasped quietly when the footsteps paused outside her door, burrowing back under her sheets only to relax as a yawn sounded from beyond the walls. Goldie went back to bed.

One hour later, (Y/N) ran away.

She changed her clothes, careful not to wake the snoring girl in the bed opposite hers, before stuffing her Halloween candy into her coat's pockets—along with a handful of paper clips, just in case—and clipping her hair back from her face with her butterfly barrette. She shoved her feet into the wrong shoes, strapping them closed and creeping into the hall. Somewhat clumsily, she crawled onto the stairway banister before carefully scooting herself down the rail backwards, holding on for dear life and nearly pressing her cheek flat against the wood to keep from tumbling over the edge.