Hey guys. Pwnie3 here, got the idea from NikiD1233's Suicide is Murder, I liked it for some reason or another. It's slightly different due to my preferences, mainly because I'm in a Percabeth hating mood. This will most likely turn into one of those Chaos-like stories, only with Ouranous instead. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Screw you, Rick.
The young man walking home from work at the fast-food restaurant.
The young men who were desperate for attention from the popular girls beside them, waiting to jump the young man with knives gleaming white under the pale moon.
He walked beneath them, a streak of grey shining in his pearlescent black hair, falling into his sea-green eyes that held so much sadness. This was the moment they had been planning for weeks. They stepped from the shadows, the knives glowing in the soft moonlight. The man looked up. A single set of words escaped his lips.
"If you can, make it quick. I have killed too many to hurt another soul."
The kids at school thought him
Stupid, the first word carved into his chest.
He had dyslexia, he couldn't read.
He had ADHD, he couldn't sit still in class.
He excelled in sports, he must not study.
He barely ever spoke.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Gay, the second term whittled into his torso.
He never had a girlfriend.
He pushed away all the girls who threw themselves at him.
He never sighed dreamily at any girls like the other boys did.
The pictures in his locker only had the faces of boys, the girls' faces blotted out.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Weak, the third concept chiseled onto his body.
He never fought back, not even when the scrawniest boy in school hit his best.
He never was mean to anyone.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Freak, the fourth phrase hewn into his flesh.
He worshipped gods that he alone believed in.
He had scars all over his body.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
What they didn't know, was that slowly, surely, they were killing him. Killing him with their words. That they were doing the best thing they could to him. That they were sending him to the love he never realized he had until she was dead. That they were freeing him from a prison he could not break out of.
A silver arrow whizzed past the ear of one of them. A girl in silver with black hair and electric blue eyes stepped from the shadows and ran to the young man.
"Percy, stay with me. We can fix this. We'll get you back to your mom and to Paul and Ariadne, too. Come on, Perce, don't die on your family like this"
