─── ･ ｡♡ ･
❛ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃.
I don't even think that you care like I do.
I should stop-Heaven knows I've tried .❜
A half-god-would-be-god falls in love with a mortal.
It could...
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Love, she found, demands sacrifice the very same way a flower calls for sunlight to bloom. It necessitates selflessness—the readiness to prioritize someone else's needs above your own, even on days where a handful of Hydromorphone pills seemed more enticing than another hour of breathing. The depth of motherly love resembles a dagger you must be willing to thrust into your own gut, ready to pierce through skin and spill out your very essence, all in the name of the person you hold dear—and for her son, Sally Jackson is prepared to make that sacrifice and more.
Sally hadn't been prepared for the pain of living with her heart beating outside of her chest.
She didn't know how to breathe when her heart, once sheltered in the refuge of her womb, now existed in the fragile body of her son. Every breath she took was filled with fear and worry, as if at any moment her heart would be ripped away from her—and he could, she knew. Her son could be taken away—Percy isn't hers, Poseidon cautioned her—but she is twenty-four, and she is learning. She is learning that the bond between mother and child is an eternal dance of love and worry, a delicate balance between letting go and holding on tightly.
Still, she is afraid that she won't be enough for her son. Percy is a half-blood, a demigod. Half immortal, half divine. Half Poseidon.
She is just Sally.
She is mundane in every essence of the word, and her son possesses powers and abilities that she could never understand or relate to. He will evolve into an unfathomable force, destined to exceed the mortal limitations that bound her; when he grows up, he will surpass her in ways she cannot comprehend. Sally is a high school dropout, married to the human equivalent of trash, unskilled, unemployed, and with no money to provide for herself, much less a child. And Percy is so much more than she could have ever imagined or hoped for—deserves so much more than what she can offer him. It hurt—simply, without metaphors or poetic language—to know that she cannot give him the life he deserves.
Weighed with unshed tears, Percy's eyes resembled shattered sea glass.
She lied; she knows she isn't enough for her son—won't ever be enough for a child like him.
Each morning, she awakens with the taste of salt on her lips and guilt gnawing at her from within.
She should've allowed Poseidon to take him.
"Please eat, Percy," she begged her toddler, but he refused, pushing away the meager meals she managed to scrape together. She is learning, and she is trying, but it isn't enough, no matter how much she sacrifices.
