The Shade's Of You. | ✓

45

Sophia.

Percy, thankfully, stayed silent as he sat on the toilet seat and continued to catch my eyes but I was far too focused on his busted skin to worry about his sad looking eyes.

I couldn't work with or on him if he smelt of metallic blood.

I had him take a bath so that horrible smell could leave.

And for the past few minutes, I've been cleaning his wounds, on his hands and chest and shoulders and face.

He didn't bother telling me what happened and something inside of me told me I was better off with not knowing right now— he hissed and his hand on my hip squeezed me tighter as I pressed the cotton ball above his eyebrow.

I glance down at his eyes, finally connecting after minutes and I take in a deep breath. “You lied to me.” I finally say.

Percy keeps his gaze on me when I almost stumble back, he catches me in his arms. “Why were you drinking, love?”

I glare up at him, annoyed that his not asking me about what I just stated— that he did lie to me and I now know about it, too. I gently, not to hurt him, pull myself away from his body and step far away. I slowly wash my hands and watch as the water washes away everything from him.

The silence between us is tense and I hate it.

“Who is Charlie's father?” I suddenly blurt.

His eyes find mine through the sinks mirror and he shrugs, wincing as he does so, “I told you, amante, I don't k—”

“YOU'RE LYING!”

“Baby, don't scream— come here, I'm not lying to you.”

I quickly turn back around, facing him again as he stands and steps closer to me. I hold tightly against the marble counter, scared that I just might reach up and slap him.

He stops in front of me and his mint scent engulfs me, warming me up from the insides at the familiar scent.

His knuckles, clean and with no blood, caresses the side of my face, too gently and his eyes look so sad— I'm not sure if it's because of my question or because of something else— maybe it's because of that blood?

“Charlie and his father isn't important right now, love. I need to te—”

I blank.

Charlie is such a good kid, he is and his so sweet and yes, he plays pranks and is also kind of evil to others.

But his good.

Every child deserves to know who their real father is.

This little boy, too— my little blonde haired, green eyed boy deserves something good, some good news after what his been through. After his own mother telling him shit and after their deaths. I know he probably wonders about them— why he was with me, why they left him alone here, too.

“You're his fucking brother!” I snap, giving up my cool facade, I push at his chest, feeling suffocated by his presence. “He should know that, he deserves to know.”