More Than You Know (Oneshots)

A Lot Has Changed Since

Sally POV

Sometimes, whenever Percy is at home with me, I like to just stand in the doorway and watch him sleep. It sounds weird or whatever, but I'm his mom. I don't care how old my child is. He will always be my child.

I look at him now and I just hate myself. I hate myself for not protecting him. I wish I could just keep him close with me for the rest of my life and just protect him from all the dangers. I wish I could keep him safe.

When he was younger, we both had to deal with Gabe. When he turned twelve, he got wrapped up into all the dangers of being a demigod. Now? He is just lying down on the bed, the weight of the world trapped on his young shoulders. I stare at the scars visible on his skin. I think about the ones that were made by Gabe and the ones made by all the monsters he encountered and bested. I stare at the pen that he holds defensively in his hand. I hate that he's always alert, even in his sleep. Always prepared for danger. Always ready for a fight to survive. I stare at how his forehead scrunches and his lips curl into a thin line whenever his dream becomes particularly bad. I hate that I can't help him from his nightmares as I could when he was a kid because now his dreams are demigod dreams.

I know things are different now. Our problems before are nothing like our problems now. Before, our biggest worry was the stinky and abusive man that took a seat on our dining room table. Now, we need to worry about monsters crashing in and everything breaking and people getting hurt.

I get terrified every time Percy isn't home, but I get even more scared whenever he is home. When he isn't home, he's probably out somewhere, fighting and trying to survive. I wait for the day he can sit with me and we can just have dinner together without a worry in the world. I wait for the day our conversation won't have to trail back into his impending death or the immense burden and responsibility he has to carry. But when he is home, or, to rephrase that, whenever he comes home, I always get even more worried, if that even makes any sense. He rings the doorbell and, each time, returns while sporting a plethora of other injuries. I hate seeing him standing there, swaying and dead on his feet, his eyes barely open, and struggling to remain conscious. I especially hate not knowing. Percy always tries to protect me and keep me safe. I know he waters down his stories for my own sake, but I hate seeing him traumatized and in pain and not knowing what caused it.

When Percy was younger, he always knew he was different. We used to have a lot of fun together though, going out for ice cream while talking about the "interesting" things that he saw. I remembered when he first started to make blue food. I remembered Gabe being so angry with us that day Percy suggested we make EVERYTHING blue for his fifth birthday. I remember that day when Percy and I sneakily woke up extra early that day and made a whole batch of blue food. The ugly redness that pulsated over Gabe's fat self in comparison to the smiling grin on Percy's face was worth everything that I had to suffer after.

I was not naive. I knew that Percy was also being hurt. That was my biggest regret in my life: not getting rid of Gabe early. I was young and foolish and so desperate to keep Percy safe that I was convinced that at least Gabe wouldn't be as bad as the monsters he would have to face. I was too young to realize that the monster that made our home unsafe was far worse than having to deal with monsters on the outside. Because, at least then, you would have a loving and safe home to return to.

Things have changed so much, from when Percy was younger. But I'm thankful for each day that I get to him. And I pray to the gods for a thousand more to come.