So this is just chapter 35 again. I still really don't know what happened to it originally.😂 nothing changed in this chapter except some very light editing, so you don't have to reread this if you saw it before it mysteriously died. (Unless you're bored and want to.)
[TRIGGER WARNING: chapter contains mentions of self-harm, anxiety, depression, and general mental health issues. A very brief summary of the chapter will be provided for those who wish not to read the detailed anecdotes of the aforementioned topics within this chapter. Stay safe, and thank you for reading.]
Aren't we all?
*****
Percy got discharged a day later on Sunday, as expected. As much as he hated the fact that he was still considered a criminal, he would rather be back at the facility with his friends (or just Clarisse at that point) than stuck in the monotony that people called the hospital. The only downside he could find with the change of scene was that his "visiting days" went from seven to one, which meant a lack of communication with the rest of his friends and acquaintances.
Even though there was only one whose absence would really bother him
Back at the detention center, things were quieter than Percy would've liked. The Stoll brothers weren't there to be the main source of conversation and noise, Chris was no longer there to calm them down, Percy was still rather emotionally drained, and Clarisse was really just lost in the midst of it all. She did try to strike up a few conversations with Percy, but her attempts appeared to be futile besides a few exchanges here and there.
The one that really stuck out to Percy was right before "lights out" the day he returned.
"Percy?" Clarisse had begun all of their discussions the same way.
And Percy usually responded in a similar fashion. "Hm?"
"Why?"
Confused, Percy tore his eyes away from whatever he was doing and plastered his eyesight to the girl. "Why what?"
"Why is everything going wrong?"
Perch shook his head with a shrug. And they didn't speak again before returning to their cells.
Even after replaying the events in his mind, Percy never really understood why such a small, pessimistic conversation was the one that he remembered.
Maybe remembering depressing things was just a talent of his.
After all, his clearer memories always seem to be the worst ones, most of which contained death. He could write a novel about the day his mother died, and the thoughts swimming through his head when Gabe took his final breaths will stick with him for most of his life. The way the street lights shined on the knife that ended Bianca di Angelo's life would be forever engraved in his mind. He could make a list about various other details from tragic events, but stopped himself before he completely shattered whatever sanity he had left.
Despite the fact that it was Sunday, Percy had told Nico that he shouldn't be wasting his time visiting if he really had all the makeup work Percy assumed he did. Nico followed his suggestion.
And Percy utterly regretted making it that night.
**stop here if trigger warning applies to you**
Percy sat on the uncomfortable bed with his knees pulled into his chest. He had placed himself in that position nearly two hours ago and still hadn't moved. By this point, Percy had to assume it was at least midnight, if not later. He'd spent the past few minutes trying to steady his shaky breaths with nearly no success. His eyes flickered around the room. All he needed was a distraction. Something to pull his mind out of the dark abyss it had seemingly crawled into.
He found nothing.
The deafening silence of the room did not help either. The silence was not something Percy was fond of. To him, at that moment, that silence was louder than the gunshot two feet away from him, the car honking its horn to warn Grover of its oncoming, the streets of New York that Percy had grown up with. It was even louder than the footsteps of Nico do Angelo every time he left Percy alone with his own thoughts.
The silence was provoking. It pulled ideas from the back of Percy's mind and implanted them at the front so boldly that they wouldn't go away, regardless of what he did to stop them. Silence allowed leeway to the boy's inner demons that waited in between Percy's dilemmas to corrupt his mind once again with their negativity, doubt, and displeasure.
Percy couldn't escape himself.
"Come on," Percy, bordering inaudible, whispered to himself, "everything is okay. Everything is...it's f-fine."
He buried his head between his knees and tightly shut his eyes, as if that would do anything. Minutes passed before Percy's head lifted and his eyes opened.
Subconsciously, his eyes flickered to his arm, but he quickly tore them away.
"You hit a year next month, Jackson," he muttered, "don't ruin it now."
He tried to convince himself that there was another way, that everything would be normal again by the time he left the cell.
But the faded scars on his forearms only itched more with every thought.
He looked down at his arm and traced his thumb over the lines. He was looking at every mistake he made, every time he was told he was worth nothing.
Every time he wasn't perfect.
And once again, Percy was far from perfect. He got out of bed and stood in the center of the room. He glanced around, searching for something to help ease his pain. Luke had sent a messenger to Percy that day who had a gift for him while Silena and Beckendorf were with Clarisse.
Now he just needed to find where he threw it.
Looking around, his thoughts never lost speed as they raced through his mind. But particular ones did stick out.
Luke full well knew about Percy's problem. He'd made it his mission to fuel it for the past few years as well, even in the little things he did. Percy listened to people too often.
As soon as his hand hit something cold in the corner of the room, Percy grasped his hand around it.
Yes, the bastard delivered a blade.
Yes, his messenger go past security.
Yes, Percy needed to use it.
He returned to his initial position on the bed and greatly contemplated his next actions. His gaze only traveled from that blade to his arm, and he couldn't avert it.
He straightened out his arm on his knee. The shiny piece of metal between his fingers could do so much damage. To himself, to everyone that cared about him. But that was the thing.
Nobody cared.
And he deserved it.
Cautiously, he positioned the blade on his arm. His hand shook as he got prepared to ruin his hard work of stopping, the mental health climb he'd been having, and his faith in himself.
And once other people noticed, they'd feel the same way.
However, he went through with his plan. The blade pierced through the skin of his forearm, exposing blood among the edges that didn't hesitate to drop down his arm. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the sharp pain as he made a second cut.
And a few more.
He began to feel like he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he kept going. Distracted, the blade cut deeper into the skin than Percy would've liked. Luckily, it was near any arteries, but it did help him realize that, at that moment, he had already let everybody down.
Like he always did.
He stared at the crimson substance that slowly slid down his arm. His breathing quickened once again. The red clouded his vision as he dropped the blade, closed his eyes, and tried to control his breathing.
Glancing around, he could've sworn he felt the room becoming smaller. His chest tightened, his vision blurred intensely. He pulled his knees tighter to his chest, the blood-covered arm nearly forgotten.
No help this time.
He shook his head, holding back tears that have threatened to come out for so, so long. He'd prohibited them from showing, and now he couldn't find how to do so. Percy glared at the floor as a tear finally escaped his eyes and was quickly wiped away. He didn't stop the next ones though. He simply sat there, letting the droplets fall out of his eyes as he took shaky breaths.
You're weak, his thoughts chided.
But he already knew that.
How was he supposed to face Clarisse tomorrow knowing what he'd done? She and the Stolls had been helping him for so long.
They've wasted their time.
"Stop it," Percy muttered angrily at his mind.
Did you really think they actually cared?
What would his mother have thought? She'd been gone for what felt like eternity, but she meet gave up on Percy.
Is that what she would do now?
Then there was Annabeth. They'd fallen mostly out of touch, but she's the only one that even tried to talk to him after that sentence.
Thalia...Reyna...Jason...Grover...Frank ...Hazel...Leo...Rachel...they all hated him anyway. All believed he was a murderer. He'd already let them down.
And Nico? Well, he knew little of the problem, but Percy could almost hear the disappointment in his voice when his mid played out how he would tell him. He felt that he had to prove something to Nico, to make up for Bianca. He tried to save her, he really did, but he still felt as if he had completely failed both of the siblings. He just wanted to content Nico after all he'd been through.
More importantly, how was he supposed to face Connor? He'd gone through so much trouble to prevent Connor from harming himself, just to turn around and do exactly that. He had failed Connor most of all, and he couldn't find justice for himself in the situation. Percy would be surprised if Connor ever spoke to him again after he found out.
He sighed as he concluded his thoughts. His tear-stained face, the spinning room, and the slowly clotting lines across his arm continued to scream at him through the piercing silence.
Although he was in no position to do so, his eyes began to close. His episodes had always really worn him out. He couldn't help it. Tossing the blade somewhere else in the room to avoid further self damage, he positions himself well enough to sleep before completely falling unconscious. However, even as he slept, for once undisturbed, one thing still stuck out to him.
His walls had finally fallen.
Brief Summary
Basically, Percy just suffers from an extreme mental/emotional breakdown because of the recent events and lack of support at the time it occurred. There were mentions of the topics in the trigger warning, and Percy listed reflected on everyone he believed he had let down by doing these things before falling asleep.
Hi, kids. This took forever to retype, and I still don't know what happened. Hopefully, another update (that hasn't already been published before) will be here soon since I have four days of doing nothing.
G'bye!