Hearing words in the silence

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Know what that means? I don't own Percy Jackson and his friends.

Chapter 2

Percy can't really believe it. It's been two years since they bothered sending him to a shrink. Percy used to spend day in, day out on those stupid couches, therapist after therapist trying to worm their way into his mind, and after wasting copious amounts of money, his parents had given up.

Or so he had thought.

He supposes it was the damn writing again. His mother must have decided that he had a fighting chance, and was back to trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with her son. What Percy hates most, is that she isn't doing it for him. It's never been for him; it's for her. Simply so she can work to get him better, and then she can once again show off her son to her friends, and prove that he is normal, he really is.

Percy wants to let her know that it won't do any good. It doesn't matter how many different shrinks she sends him to, he still won't be who she wants him to be. He wants her to know that she is the one who made him this way, but he can't. She refuses to see the signs, and Percy wonders if it's because, deep down, she knows. Nevertheless, she ushers him into the car and runs around to the other side before he can open the door and get out again. The engine is on before he can even blink, and Percy sits back, letting a sight escape his lips and knowing today will be just another day of questions leading nowhere fast.

"Perseus Ugliano?"

The receptionist doesn't even need to look at her papers as Percy walks in. She knows who he is, just as all the others have. Percy has become some twisted form of a celebrity in the psychiatry world. All of them scrambling to see who can crack the mystery first; see who can claim that title that yes, I fixed Perseus Ugliano. Because Percy knows that 'fixed' is the term they will use. Fixed, solved, figured him out... He's just a puzzle to them, and maybe that's why Percy never wants to tell them a damn thing.

His mother nods for him, and the receptionist proceeds to usher him into a room that's dull, Percy almost wants to cry. There's a plain black leather couch, as there always is, and an equally plain chair beside it. The walls are a sickening shade of warm yellow, and from experience, he knows it's supposed to make him feel at home. It doesn't. He doesn't wan to be here, but Percy never really has a choice in the matter. He goes where he is pushed, and doesn't complain. He doesn't complain because he can't - won't. Instead, he does what he's told, his eyes sinking down onto the chair, his heart sinking with them.

"If you'll just take a seat, Mr. Ugliano..."

Percy does as he is told once again, forcing himself not to cringe at the sound of that name. The leather of the seat is cold and uncomfortable, and it squeaks annoyingly as he tries to adjust himself on it. He hates that way he has to lie at an odd angle, and he finds himself wishing that they would hurry up and go home. His mother and the receptionist are gone quickly, and Percy knows it's because his mother hates these places. He knows they remind her of how different her son is.

Percy waits a total of around ten minutes before the door swings open again, and a woman steps into the room.

"Perseus, is it?"

The name again sounds bitter, and Percy can't help but shake his head vehemently.

"It says here your name's Perseus, honey."

Her tone has a hint of frustration in it, and Percy can tell immediately that she's going to be just another one who will insist he's crazy. She sits down beside him, and Percy carefully avoids her eyes, fidgeting awkwardly on the stupid couch.

"So let's get to know each other a little, sweetheart."

Percy scowls at her, but she presses on as though there was no reaction, and Percy begins to wonder what kind of therapist she really is. He's used to them scribbling down every movement and facial expression, but it's as if she doesn't even notice him.

"I have a brother about your age, Perseus. I'm sure you'd get along quite well."

Percy doubted it. For one, nobody ever gets along with him very well. And for another, she doesn't know shit about the boy sitting on her couch, so how dare she make such assumptions?

"How do you like school?" She asks the question nonchalantly, as though she was just making conversation, but Percy wasn't stupid. He'd seen enough shrinks, and been asked the same question enough times to know that it's a simple way of finding out if he gets bullied. But Percy doesn't, not really. It's more like they avoid him. Nobody wants to be seen associating with Perseus Jackson Ugliano, and Percy doesn't really blame them half the time. They ignore him, and he ignores them. It's a mutual relationship, and he doesn't understand why everyone seems to be convinced that he suffers trauma at school.

If he's being honest, Percy will admit that he tunes out for the rest of the examination. She doesn't even notice however, droning on and on. It says right there on the paper that Percy doesn't talk, and she doesn't expect him to in their first session. Instead, she assumes that he's listening, and continues talking, waiting for him to open up.

Slowly, Percy comes to hate this room even more, staring at its drab contents and scowling. He doesn't want to be here, and he can guess she knows it. He wishes his mother would stop forcing him to see all these people- It would be much easier for all of them. Percy wouldn't have to sit through such pointless sessions that are a waster of everyone's time. The therapist wouldn't get so annoyed all the time, and his mother and stepfather would save a lot of money. Sometimes Percy wonders just how far his mother would go to get her "normal" son.

Lost in his own thoughts, Percy doesn't hear her when she clears her throat, announcing that their session is over. She has to repeat herself three times before Percy jolts back to reality, looking at her with an expression of shock.

"Perseus, you can go now," she says again, and Percy nods, standing up, the chair squeaking as he does so.

His mother is waiting for him in the hall, and Percy walks toward her gloomily, not looking forward to the car ride home where she will undoubtedly drill him on how the session went. Percy will ignore her, as he always does.

His mother begins to lead him towards the door. He doesn't know why he does it, but some surge of instinct forces Percy to turn his head and look back the way he came. It's that small action that allows him to watch as the most gorgeous boy Percy has ever set eyes on walks into the room just as he entered.

Percy allows himself to smile.

He wonders who the boy is, and whether he's here for a session, just like Percy was. It's a brief thought before his mother is tugging his arm, and again tells him to get in the car. He looks at her, and he wonders why she hates him so much.

"Why won't you let anyone help you Perseus?"

Percy looks out the window as the scenery goes by, and he wonders whether he's the one who needs help. After all, his only problem is that Percy does not talk. Not a word has passed Percy's lips in three years, and he can't say he finds that a bad thing. Percy has had experience with words; he's seen what they can do, how much damage they can inflict... He hasn't spoken in three years. He's all but forgotten how. Percy knows his voice is there somewhere, but he's quite happy not hearing it, thank you very much.

If only they could see that.

So yet another thrilling chapter. What'd ya think? I know things still need to be explained. Hang in there with me.
Jesslou out!