Chaos The Creator

Chapter Sixteen

Percy's POV (AKA Harmony) (AKA Chaos) (AKA Percy {Obviously})

I was somewhere in between happy and sad. I was somewhere in between crying and laughing. I was somewhere in between shock and pain. I was somewhere in between male and female. I was somewhere in between here and there. I was somewhere in between awake and asleep. I was somewhere in between being alive and being dead. I was somewhere between sane and insane.

I was somewhere between someone and no one.

Am I happy or sad? Why couldn't I make up my mind? I'm sobbing, my son just died, and I should be sad. I am sad. But why am I happy? That is because I'm a masochist. But why? I should be sad. I am sad. I should be crying. I am crying. But why do I feel like laughing? It was almost like a dream; a nightmare. Am I in shock? Or am I in pain? Both? Am I alive or dead? Sometimes I wish I were dead. But I'm not. My son is dead. I'm alive. Why do I have to be alive? Why can't I settle on male or female? There's too many questions.

I took a deep, shaky breath, but only sobbed harder.

I was the only sound. I was sobbing silently, but I could tell that I was fooling no one. Even if I was crying silently, the others all knew.

I wiped my eyes. I gazed at my son's face, with that expression still on his face.

"My son. . ." I whispered. "My dear son. . . I'm so sorry. . .Oh, son. . ."

A few tears trailed down my cheeks.

"You were such a nice child," I murmured quietly. "One can only wonder. . . what happened. . . to make all this. . . happen. . . We may not technically be son and mother and father by blood, but I will always think of you as my son. . . I wish you were still here. . . then I could. . . apologize. . .but now I'll never see you again. . . and it's my own fault."

I broke down and started sobbing again.

"But why?" I whispered when I got back under control. I cupped the side of my son's face with my hand and softly stroked his cold(because he's dead) cheek. "Why am I not sad? I mean, I am, but. . . For some reason I'm happy, too. Why? I want you to forgive me. . . but that's not going to happen. . . I never wanted to hurt you. . . You're my son. . . Whether you were evil or not, I had no right. . . I have no excuse. . . I don't even know exactly what I want. . . forgiveness? I don't deserve it. . . I don't deserve anything. . . I don't deserve you as my son. . . I never did. . . I don't deserve Loki. . . and if all you wanted was revenge against me. . .

"Son. . . My son. . . I'm so s-sorry. . . Words could never make up. . . for what I did. . . Meaningless words. . . I should've tried harder, I shouldn't have let any of this happen. . . I should have been stronger. . . I'm s-sorry. . ." My voice faded from the whisper as I broke down into more tears.

The Avengers and Loki tried to convince me to come to the tower. Eventually, almost all of them went into the tower. That is, except for Natasha and Wanda, who sat next to me in silence.

We sat there for who knows how long. Minutes, hours, days; it didn't matter to me. I just sat there, crying silently over the loss of one of my sons.

I cried into my knees, tucked into a little ball, trying to block out everything out. Yet, I barely registered that I was smiling slightly. Like I enjoyed the pain.

Because I did.

And the realisation only made me cry longer— and smile a little more.

I eventually looked up. I managed to somehow stop crying (and smiling) and talk.