Why is Everything so Loud?! (Fem. Percy)

Do You Really Think-

The floor was freezing. I should've worn socks. I should've crawled back into bed. But the thought of crawling into it and listening to Dad's breathing, hearing only him and nothing else, sounded worse than swimming.

With a creak, the mattress dipped under me. My feet wormed their way under the blankets. Warm. Cozy. I tried to shimmy and shift to solidify my place. A tiny sliver was all I had to work with; I'd make it work. I would.

"Percy, what are you doing?" Dad's voice, though mumbled, sent tremors down my spine. How could he sound so cold when he gave off so much heat?

"Can you move over?"

"Why? I thought that you couldn't stand being around me." Venomous. Biting.

"Dad, please," I begged. I tried to push him, shoved my weight into his side and tried to earn myself maybe just a few more inches. It was like a stream trying to change the course of a river. "Please."

Please don't let him have heard my voice waver. There were things I could deal with him knowing. Or things I could let him see. Not this. Not anything that was actually weakness. It was bad enough that he knew everything else, and— And what if this was the thing that finally pushed him over the edge?

He didn't say anything. He didn't move, leaving me to curl on a space shorter than my hand. My butt hung out over the edge, and I had to tense every muscle to stay still. It couldn't last forever. It didn't. I scrambled, grabbing the sheets and blankets. They slid with me. A startled whine left my throat.

I tensed, curled in anticipation of slamming into the cold, hard floor. Instead, Dad wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. His heartbeat drowned out the sound of my own. Even though he didn't move, it didn't matter. All I had to do was lean into him.

"What made you decide you want to be around me?"

I didn't want to answer. The darkness, the coldness still in his voice—how much of what he showed in public was an act? How much... How angry was he with me?

"I'm cold."

"That's why you have blankets," he snapped. I curled closer to him. "I don't appreciate being called a liar, Perseus."

Silent, I nodded.

A hand settled in my hair. It wasn't comforting. Not with how he had me pinned. Large fingers pressed against my scalp. They moved in clumsy patterns, and it took me too long to realize he was trying to soothe me; I seethed.

Why now? Why couldn't he have just been quiet and did this to begin with? I shoved away and walked out the door.

Camp was quiet. No screaming. No yelling. No fighting. Cicada's buzzed and crickets chirped, accompanied by the wind swishing through the trees. I liked it, but for some reason I didn't want it. It was familiar to the point where my brain tuned it out. Or maybe it was from the grating tone in the cicada's calls. My feet carried me to the beach.

The waves crashed and receded like steady breaths. Each rasp over sand melted tension from my shoulders. Still, it didn't stop the fear that fluttered in my chest with each pulse of encroaching water. I scuttled back when a larger wave—Dad was upset, wasn't he—came in.

Moonlight shimmered over the ocean, and it gleamed along the shiny bandaids. One by one, I peeled them off. Scabbed. Half-healed. I'd have to—

"Put those back on. Now."

"What happened to being mad at me?" I peered at him from the corner of my eye. "Because I'd still be in the cabin if you'd let me lay there."

"Percy."

"If you would've just ignored everything like you want to every other time something happens, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Perseus."

I scowled. "I'm not a dog. Saying my name's not gonna make me do what you want."

"Do you want me to talk to your mother about this?" That was a threat. My hands dug into the sand, gritty particles pressing under my nails.

"And tell her what? That I cut myself? That the child she had knowing what their life would be like is suffering? Can you think for one second of what that would do to her?" I asked. Water thrashed in front of me. "She'd fall apart, and I'd have to help pick up the pieces. She blames herself for things, and me being born is one of them. Why make that worse?"

Because it's what the gods did.

Dad moved between me and the water. "She does not think of you as a mistake."

"She knew who you were." I knew I shouldn't yell, and that I shouldn't let my tone get out of hand. I did both. "She knew you were a god. She knew what happened to demigods and heroes. And she slept with you anyway. She gave birth to your child. And she should've just killed me in the crib. Because that would've been better than wishing for you to have mercy for your own fucking kid."

"Language," he said. He raised a hand and the water stilled into a mirror-like surface. Every cloud, every star, even the haze of the moon stared back up at its twin. "If she'd tried to kill you, I would've taken you."

"As if that's the hallmark of good parenting."

Silence.

"I came out here to listen to the waves."

"You should be sleeping."

"I'd be sleeping if you'd let me sleep next to you," I said, coaxing the water back into waves. It destroyed the tranquil images, but the small amount of control I could wrestle from him calmed my nerves. And tiny waves were better. Less scary.

"You know we're leaving tomorrow."

My control faltered. "And?"

"You need to talk to me."

"No, I don't." My gaze darted away from him. "You don't—Gods don't actually care about what we need. It's always just what you want. I really don't want to have this conversation again, so how about you go back to bed and let me sit here until you leave?"
"I'm not leaving you alone."

"That's a first. Not like you ignored me until you needed me or anything."

"There are laws—"

"What law kept you from claiming me the moment I woke up here? If you didn't need me to go get the Master Bolt back, would you have ever claimed me? Or would you have never recognized your 'wrongdoing?'" I laughed. "Luke had a point, you know. We're nothing more than pawns in the stupid games you play. And you'll sacrifice us the moment it benefits you."

"Do...Do you really think that I don't care about you? That none of us care about our children?"

"Thalia's soul was stuck in a tree. Nico and Bianca had their memories wiped and kept where Hades could use them later. All of you wanted to use us to control the prophecy, and the moment it came down to it, your brother was willing to kill his own daughter to save your asses. You send us on glorified errands that usually end with us dead. How do you twist that to being caring? Parents are supposed to—they're suppos—They're supposed to protect their kids." I scrubbed tears away. "You're supposed to protect us, but you don't. If Mom hadn't drilled it into my head that you're a good person, I would've been right there with all the other demigods who joined Luke."

"Child."

"I was twelve years old." Gods, I hated the way my voice wavered. "And I thought I was going to die. You don't get to tell me that you give a shit about me."

The water stilled again. I didn't give him a chance to say a word. And he'd given me the perfect way to get out of this.

I stood. "I'm going to bed."

Happy Birthday to me.

It still sucks to be an adult

I know this doesn't rhyme, but happy birthday to me.

And uh... I need to do homework.

It's weird how little I needed to change this, but in case it's your first time through this book, hi this is the three year older author speaking. I decided to edit this as a little birthday treat this year

See yah