༄ ✩ 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 ▬▬▬▬
❝ 𝘋𝘈𝘠𝘞𝘈𝘓𝘒𝘌𝘙 ❞
in which percy jackson's older
sister is out of rehab and ready
to take the monster world by
storm, if her stupid little brother
would stop doing stup...
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 💭 ⋆｡ ▌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃. Psyche follows his gaze, and can tell he's not excited about going back. Cars move all around them, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Kids talk and laugh as they walk up to the school and disappear inside. Psyche lightly punches his arm.
"Hey, only a few days and you're free." She says. Percy sighs and nods. "You're staying in the school dorms, right?" Percy nods again and grabs his backpack from where it sits at his feet, zipping it up, but she spots packets of sweets inside. "Woah, woah, what you got there, rager?"
Percy rolls his eyes. "Sweets from mom's shop. I sell them out of my dorm." Psyche's eyes narrow at him. "You make any profit?" He smiles. "Yeah, like more than double." Psyche smiles. "That's my boy." she fist bumps him. "You got this, okay?" He smiles at her before opening the door. "Have a good day, stick to sweets, I don't wanna catch you with any of that other shit— and don't punch anyone."
He laughs. "I'll try my best." He closes the car door and tosses his bag over his shoulder. At the school steps he finds his friend waiting. Psyche's glad to see Percy smile at the boy she guessed was Grover, but Grover looks over at the car and spots her. A confused look forms over his features and it makes her frown slightly, but the school bell distracts them.
Psyche moves to start driving, but a figure at her window makes her jump. "Jesus." she mutters, looking up at the older woman standing outside her window. Rolling the window down, she smiles politely, tilting her head up to look under the rim of her cow print bucket hat. "Morning." The woman smiles, but it's forced and almost condescending. Psyche's worried her tight hair do would pull the skin off her face if she tried to speak.
"Good morning." she says, her voice strained and croaky. "Who might you be?" Psyche frowns slightly but figured this woman must have been a teacher here. "I'm Psyche. Uh, Psyche Jackson? My brother goes here." The woman smiles again, but it's sickly wide and almost creepy looking. "Oh, yes, Percy." She says his name like she was talking about gum stuck to her shoe.
Psyche frowns at this, her skin crawling with unease. "And you are?" she asks, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "Mrs. Dodds," she says, offering her hand through the window. "I'm Percy's math teacher." Psyche reluctantly takes her hand, and the older woman's grasp is surprisingly tight, her nails almost digging into Psyche's hands.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." the woman says, and for a moment, Psyche swears she can see her eyes glowing like flames, just like with Lez the night before. Psyche pulls her hand away and smiles politely. "Yeah, I'm sure it is." she turns the key in the ignition. "Sorry, I really do have to go." Mrs. Dodds smiles as she steps back.
Psyche leaves in a hurry, glancing nervously into the rear view mirror. Her attention is caught when the skin of her palm starts to sting. She looks down to see a thin line cut into her palm, small drops of blood sprouting through. Mrs. Dodds glances down at the blood on her finger nail and brings it up to her tongue as she watches Psyche drive off. The drops of red are sickly sweet at first, but after a moment they burn and sizzle like acid over her tongue.
Psyche tries to brush it off, math teachers are weird. Her mind drifts as she sits at the red light, thinking about everything and nothing.
"You won't move on." Her voice is sudden, but it almost doesn't surprise her. Psyche glances in the mirror at the passenger seat, and sure enough, there sits Maisie looking out at the window at the people walking along the side walk. "You can't." she says, calmly, but there was something different about her. Something angrier.
"What makes you think I want to?" Psyche asks. Maisie's eyes move to the mirror and Psyche immediately looks down at the road again. Maisie smiles, and though she cannot see it, Psyche can feel it's warmth. "Maybe not." Maisie says, rolling the window down as they start to drive again. "But you want to know more. I can see it in your eyes."
Psyche's eyes narrow. "You think I haven't learnt everything there is to know?" Maisie's eyes glow under the sunlight. "You surely think you have." she says, and unease tugs at Psyche's gut. "Aren't you intrigued? Don't you want to know why?" Psyche glares at the road "Why what?"
"Why I was murdered." Psyche nearly slams on breaks in the middle of an intersection. Dead men tell no lies, it was one thing she'd learnt over the years. They had no reason too, and one thing Psyche knew for sure about Maisie, is that she never lied to her. "Eyes on the road, Sweet, focus." Maisie moves her hand to Psyche's arm, the cold touch making her flinch. Psyche lowered the gas pedal further, speeding up down the long stretch of almost empty road.
"What are you talking about?" Psyche manages, her eyes darting from mirrors to the road and back again.
"There are no more wolves in Long Island, Sweet. At least, not anymore.. and not enough to hunt in a pack." Maisie says. "Don't you think it was weird? They completely ignored the smell of the food from camp and went for me instead... I never saw them, I never heard them, and then their jaws were around my throat." as she speaks, Psyche's throat starts to ache, as if she herself could feel every memory Maisie was describing. "They went for my ankles, snapped my Achilles tendons so I couldn't fight them off, shattered my wrists in their jaws and scratched out my eyes.. you remember."
Psyche squeezes her eyes shut, trying to decide between shutting her out and focusing on the road. She could hear cars flying past. They were gaining on a bridge now, and Psyche's body acted to her irritation, muscles clenching. The car speeds up. "Stop it." she mutters. "I— I don't want to think about that."
"Think about it?" Maisie frowns. "I had to live through it." Psyche can hardly focus as they meet the bridge, her veins burning under her skin. "Maisie—"
"Do you want to know what that felt like?" her grip on her arm tightens, and burning pain spreads over her body. Psyche gasps as the feeling of hot sludge fills her throat. Her visions blurs to red and black, eyes burning like hot coals. She could feel every wound, hear every heart beat pulse in her ears, smell the metallic scent of the blood that poured from her mouth.
Her hands move to her throat, and she can feel the gaping wound under her hands, her fingers sticky with red. She can't see, can barely hear, but when a cars horn blares loud and clear, sunlight bouncing off the hood of the pickup truck that barrels towards her, reality seems to kick in.
Everything disappears a moment before the two vehicles collide, and Psyche's limp body flies through the wind shield.
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I'm depressing myself short but sweet, in a manner of speaking
