Never Be (Percabeth AU)✔️

>12<

TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains mentions of abuse and suicidal thoughts. Neither are meant to offend anyone. If you or someone you know are experiencing either please reach out and talk to someone. Remember you are loved.

Percy's POV

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted
I thought about our last kiss—how it felt, the way you tasted
And even though my fiends tell me your doing fine

I chucked another rock across the pond as I tried to collect myself. After what just happened, my thoughts are scattered, and I was pretty fucked up.

Flashback

"Kid!" Gabe lumbered over from the kitchen.

I muttered a curse under my breath. Of course I couldn't come home and not receive a beating. Almost everyday I had walked through that door, Gabe was here waiting for me, his punching bag.

"Where have you been?" He barked.

"School."

"Why for so long?" He spat in my face.

"I had a club." I lied. I didn't need Gabe knowing that I was in detention, that'd only make the abuse worse. I didn't need to give the bastard another reason to hurt me.

"What club?" He growled.

"Uh," swallowed thickly. "Marine biology." I decided. I planned to major in the subject so I felt a little less guilty.

Gabe grunted before walking away. I began to make my way to my room, but stopped abruptly.

"Argh!" Gabe turned and threw an empty beer bottle at the wall just before my face. If I hadn't stopped, things would not have ended well for me. Well, it's not like they were going to anyways.

"Where do you think you're going?!" He stumbled over to me. He jabbed his finger at a bruise on my lip. The same one that Chase did. "Where'd you get that?"

"You." I couldn't stop that one simple word from slipping out. That one word that could determine life or death.

"No. I didn't do that." He spat.

Well, there's no turning back now. "Yes you did." My voice was just above a whisper. I looked at my shoes on the floor, the clock on the wall—anything but Gabe's cruel eyes. I thought that maybe he'd go away if I didn't look at him, but no such luck.

"No I didn't!" He yelled. "You're too disrespectful. Need to be disciplined!" He punched me in the face, his knuckles connecting with my left cheek bone.

I battled the urge to whimper, cry, or yell in pain. I couldn't show Gabe how much he hurt me. He fed off of my reaction. Don't give him one he has nothing to feed off of. It's something I learned early on in their marriage. I just grabbed my face and bit the inside of my cheek. But the beating was nowhere near over. Gabe grabbed my shirt and punched me again, splitting my lip.

The next thing was an empty beer bottle being slammed on my shoulder. The glass shattered, spraying everywhere. That's going to be fun to clean up.

Gabe then hit me with the same broken bottle over the head, cutting a gash along the right side of my face. I hoped that wouldn't leave a scar.

Then he threw me to the floor, and kicked my abdomen until the pain made me numb. He finally flew out of the apartment yelling, "I'm leaving!"

I gathered all the strength that I could to get myself to the bathroom.

The beating was over, but the suffering stayed, lingering over me like a storm cloud. The suffering would last until I could stand up to that asshole my self. Until all my scars faded away. In other words, the suffering would last for a very long time.

The gash on my face wasn't as deep as I had anticipated. It just bled. A lot. I wiped away the blood the best I could before attempting to fix the rest of me.

I pulled my shirt off to reveal bruises. My entire abdomen was blue and purple, from Gabe's kicking. My shoulder ached from the beer bottle, but other than a bruise, it was fine. The cuts on my arms from previous beatings were scabbing up. I shuddered at the thought of how they got there.

I wiped the blood from my split lip and held a cloth on it with my mouth. The rest of my face was decorated with purple blotches.

My left cheekbone was bruised and bleeding a bit. I simply wiped away the blood and moved on. I had already cleaned my gash. I wiped a small trickle of blood from my left nostril.

I sighed and leaned both hands on the corners of the sink. I looked at myself in the mirror.

It's my fault. Was the thought that rang through my head. I should just die. My eyes lingered until they landed on a razor blade lying on the counter.

Do it. Half my mind tempted. Everyone would be better off. Gabe wouldn't beat you anymore, no one at school would be upset, and then everything would be good. Because you're gone.

No! The other half of my mind chimed in. Think about mom! What would your death do to her? She'd be crushed. Gabe would probably beat her if you weren't here. And not everybody at school hates you. Chase! She'd be sad if you died!

I chuckled to myself at that. She'd be happy I was gone. She'd have under the bleachers all to herself. But she'd have to find someone else to call Asshole. To torment. To prank.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. No. No, I am not going to do that to myself. I have enough cuts already. I don't need anymore. And the last time I tried, it didn't work. It only made everything worse.

I walked out of the bathroom and faced the mess outside. Glass was everywhere. There was blood on the floor, and a picture frame was shattered on the floor.

I started with the glass. Then the blood. Then the picture frame.

I picked up the small broken frame and looked at the picture. It was of me and my mom, at the park. I remembered that day. When things were simpler, when my dad was alive. He had taken the picture, actually. We didn't have any pictures of him up. Gabe had got mad once and made my mom take them all down.

I remembered how angry that made me. He was my real father after all, and Gabe was an abusive bully. I wanted to punch him square in the face for raising his voice at my mother. I was okay with him yelling at and hurting me, as long as he didn't hurt my mother. Because in this life, she was the one thing that mattered to me most. Nothing was more important than protecting my mother.

I looked back at the picture. I took the photo out and folded it up, putting it in the back of my phone case. I threw the frame away.

I then pulled on a hoodie and grabbed my phone, walking out of the apartment. I needed to clear my head, and there was one place that I could think of.

My safe haven.

End of Flashback

I was pulled from my reverie when I heard something behind me. I grabbed a rock and turned, ready to defend myself.

However, nothing could prepare me for what I saw next.

Emerging from the bushes was a familiar mop of frizzy blonde curls.

•••