The Sun and The Sea

Percy POV

~TW for this chapter: SH~

I got the feeling Apollo was avoiding me.

You might ask, how?

Well, he had stopped his visits to check up on me, which admittedly hurt.

Then when he finally did come back to camp to greet some campers, he flat out ignored me.

Did I do something wrong?

Over the past few days I had been getting more jittery, less focused, less willing to just get up and function.

It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was just that I didn't.

Couldn't.

I felt like I was physically bound to my bed, and unable to break the restraints. I hated the feeling of being trapped, so the endless spiral I seemed to be stuck in really wasn't helping my mental state.

Not that it was any good in the first place.

On one particularly uneventful Tuesday, I just had the urge.

To cut.

To hurt myself.

And who was I to say no to an urge? After all, I was basically the non immortal, unofficial god of impulsiveness.

And so, I sat down on the cold tiles of my bathroom floor and took the blade out of a razor.

Pressing it into my wrist, I watched with a sick sense of satisfaction as thin tendrils of bright red, oxygenated blood trickled out.

Unable to help myself, I made another one.

The red liquid reminded me vaguely of the River Phlegethon, which made me think of Tartarus, which made me think of the mini-war, which made me think of Piper.

Gods, Piper.

Just because of that thought, I made another cut.

Now I had a total of three, on one wrist.

So I evened it out.

Then made it uneven.

Then evened it out.

By the time I was done, nearly my entire forearm was covered in bleeding slashes and torn skin.

I wasn't proud of it, by any means.

But it did make me feel better.

With a delayed sense of panic, I realised how much blood I was losing.

"Shit," I mumbled desperately, trying to control it and make it go back into my body.

But obviously, I didn't have enough energy to do that because I hadn't eaten in about half a week.

Stupid mortal-ness.

My vision swam, and I stood up, swaying.

Who should I call?

Will?

Nico?

Annabeth?

Jason?

Leo?

Apollo?

Apollo. He hates me.

Why call anyone, then?

So I sat down again, and stared absent mindedly at my arms as I slowly bled out.

I loved playing waiting games.

I always seemed to lose them, though.

"Percy!" Nico yelled, banging on my cabin door.

I sighed, making no move to get up.