Losing Games

45.

45.

The Shooting Star

~*~

Percy POV

I can always tell when I'm slipping.

And I know I'm slipping again.

There hasn't really been anything going on so I don't know why I'm feeling like this. 

Actually, that's a lie.

Ever since I kissed Annabeth things between us have never been better. It was pathetic, taking advantage of her because she was divorcing her lying husband, and I knew it. 

I knew I shouldn't still be in love with her after she put me through hell. I knew it was everything about this relationship was wrong but I couldn't bring myself to end it.

I didn't want it to end.

But I also didn't want to get hurt. So I've been being cautious with my heart, trying to not let it get broken again like it had so many times before now.

But it's fine. It's whatever. I didn't care about my heart anymore. It would be better if it stopped beating altogether.

My parents showed up today.

My therapist had told me to not let them in and to not see them—said I wasn't in a good mental state to see them. Grover had also informed me that they were coming and told me to not open the door.

But I did.

I knew why they were here but a part of me didn't want to believe that it was the only reason.

Today was Estelle's birthday.

My mom was crying and sobbing and holding me as she came in, the typical thing a parent does when your son gets out from the hospital.

Problem is, she's three weeks too late.

I needed a mom to help me not want to die. I needed a mom to console me as I broke down. I needed a mom that would let me vent to her about all the terrible things in my life. I needed a mom to tell me that she loved me and that everything would be just fine.

That's when I needed a mom. Not now. Not three weeks late. Not when I had to figure it all out by myself because she couldn't be bothered to be here then.

After I got out of the hospital, I knew things would be different. I just knew. I knew people would treat me differently and I knew the consequences of my actions.

I would have to play pretend in front of them.

That's why I went to therapy even though all I wanted to do was sit at home, curled up on my bed and cry.

It was quite pitiful but I didn't have the energy to do anything else.

"Oh, Percy," my mom sobbed as she walked through the door, throwing her arms around my neck. "I was so worried."

She wasn't and I knew it. If she was she would've been here seconds after I was released. She would've called.

But she didn't do either.

I forced a small, fake smile onto my face and nod. "I'm okay."

But deep down I still felt so empty.

"First it was Estelle and then I almost lost you too," she cried. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"You wouldn't been just fine," I muttered quietly under my breath.

If she heard me, she didn't say anything, instead just continuing to cry. I looked away, not wanting to see her cry.