Hold Me (Jercy)

J͛A͛S͛O͛N͛ III

I'm pacing around my kitchen, one hand on my waist and the other under my chin, as if trying to support the weight of all the thoughts swirling around in my head. My mom is standing near me in an attempt to comfort me, yet her presence only seems to add more to my nerves as she stares at me in concern.

"Honey, please go to bed. If the police call back-"

"If the police call back I want to be the one who answers." I interject defiantly. I know that she is only trying to help, but no matter how much concrete has settled at the bottom of my stomach, I still want to be the first one to know if that asshole is behind bars.

"You know, there is a big possibility that they don't catch him." My mother softly reminds me. I don't respond.

I have been contemplating that too. What if they don't catch him? What if he hears the sirens coming and he escapes? No. No, they'll catch him. They have to. Nobody who would be willing to hurt their own family like that should be wandering the streets.

Percy. No matter how many things I've been thinking about, it always comes back to Percy. Frankly, I absolutely hate him for not telling me about this sooner. I had thought we were good friends, or at least on the path to friendship. And then I figure out that he's kept this a secret from me? I feel betrayed. I know it's not fair to Percy for me to hate him, but I do.

And at the same time I worry. I worry more than the second time I went to Disney World and got lost in Hollywood Studios. I had hobbled throughout the park, scared and alone as a small eight year old would be, searching for any sign of my family. I eventually found them, but I still remember the terror that I felt that day.

This is worse. At least then I knew kind of where I was going. I knew that everything would turn out all right in the end, even if that was pure immature wishful thinking. Right now, I'm in unknown waters and waist deep in it. I have no pure immature wishful thinking left.

I've definitely heard about abuse, but it never seemed that real. It never seemed like that big of a possibility until now. And for this to happen to Percy, of all people Percy, it leaves me speechless.

Reckless yet cautious. Innocent yet vulgar. Over energetic yet somber. Kind hearted yet distant. Hilarious yet reserved. They all describe Percy Jackson. None of them say anything about 'deserves to be abused'.

"Jason?" My mother asks sweetly, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Honey, you're crying."

I'm about to retort until I realize that there were tears starting to make their way down my cheeks. I finally let go. I start to bawl, like the little eight year old I feel like, and my mom comes quick and wraps her arms around me. Up close she's more calming; her scent of mint leaves and lavender (A/N who else really fucking loves lavender? Scent and color.) acting like an herbal aroma therapy.

"Sh sh sh. It's okay sweetie, it's okay. This isn't your fault. It'll be fine, Jason. Calm down." She runs her fingers through my hair.

"But mom, this is Percy. Percy doesn't deserve this. If this is a world where someone like Percy is abused, I- I don't want to be a part of it."

It's true. Why would the world punish the innocent and reward the guilty? What kind of fucked up society is this? That's not the way it should be; that's not the way it should ever be. People like Percy don't need this. They really don't. And as for the world; whatever all knowing omnipresent supreme deity or deities are up in the sky right now, using the world as a stage for their sick and twisted puppet show, fuck you.

My mother didn't respond. I didn't expect her to anyway; there's honestly no response to something like that. Instead she continued to cradle me, run her fingers through my hair, and trace small reassuring circles on my back as numerous as my worries. I open my eyes and through my tears I see the time 12:00 on my oven clock. And suddenly I hear the fateful sound of a phone ringing.