Mystery Iris Messenger

Five

This chapter contains self harming and attempted suicide. If you're not comfortable with that, then skip this chapter.

A pounding. One louder than any Percy had ever heard before. Or maybe that was just his own head. His mind forced the noise to the background. He had drained the fountain. Broke the sinks. Broke the showers. Broke anything with water in it. Now there was no one there to heal him. Before that, though, he had lifted the silencing charm, letting the comments from the demigods fuel him.

His legs moved him from his bed over to the desk near the fountain. He closed his eyes for a split second, just a bit longer than a blink, before rummaging through the desk drawer. Near the back, Percy found what he'd been looking for. Something he bought after the first war, intending on using it, but since Gaea took his memories, he never got the chance to use it.

"Do it, Percy," he heard. But he didn't know whether it was from the demigods or from his own head. Either way, it was enough to convince himself forward and set the blade on his skin, pressing down. He watched as the scarlet colored blood trailed out of him. Percy brought the blade down his wrist. Maybe tears fell, maybe they didn't. At this point, Percy couldn't care less. Everything he did at this moment was lost in the wind, covered in blood.

His breath caught in his through once he reached about halfway down his forearm. A light breeze casting on to the open wound. He ignored it and continued, now making an almost identical line down his other arm. Noticing as the blood from the first wrist joined the newly bled blood on the second. The voices got louder, hungrier. Tearing him into more pieces than he ever thought was possible.

Almost there.

So close.

Keep going.

You'll finally be happy.

They won't be able to bother you anymore.

You'll finally get what you deserve.

Just a bit further.

Everything went dark as Percy found strength to push the blade even further into his arm, causing him to gasp as he fell on to what could have been assumed as the floor.

•••••

"Will, come quick," Nico yanked his boyfriend's arm toward Cabin 3. The door was still open from how he had left it. Demigods had began leaking in, taking in the sight of the bloody son of Poseidon. Some were snickering, pointing at the body. Others were standing, shocked at the scene. Everything was broken, all the pieces laying scattered around the cabin. And in the center of it all was Percy Jackson himself.

"Everyone get out of the way," Will yelled at everyone who had arrived. They were hesitant at first, but did move, allowing Will to reach the assumed dead Percy. Will called another child of Apollo over so that they could carry him into the infirmary. Nico stayed behind, scowling at the crowed before him, tears streaming down his face.

"This is all your guys' fault," Nico said quietly, forcing everyone to take a step back in fear as the son of Hades looked them all in the eyes - somehow at the same time. "If you all hadn't blamed him for the deaths. If you all would have understood that it was war. If you all would have used those small brains of yours to remind yourself that people were going to die. If you all weren't so cowardly and had gone through his life. Then Percy would still be alive. But because you all - especially those who called him your friend - screamed at him, telling him to kill himself, that he should have been the one to die, here we are. When he wakes up, I want you all to tell him that you're sorry and what for."

"And what if we don't?" a specific blonde daughter of Athena spoke up. "What if we don't say sorry? We aren't in kindergarten. So what if we said some things to him, about him? He deserved it. We all lost brothers and sisters in the battles. Who does Percy lose? No one. Because he didn't have anyone. Percy doesn't have brothers or sisters to depend on. Therefore, he deserves every single comment thrown at him. And besides, what's a short, gay, emo kid going to do to us if we don't say sorry?"

Nico looked at her, a small, dark chuckle escaping his throat. "Well, Annabeth Chase, you've seemed to have forgotten whose powers revolve around death." Before she could say anything else, before Nico could see the way her smirk dropped from her face, he walked away toward the infirmary.