He carves it onto his forehead with a razor.
The kids tell him he's an idiot every single day, even the smart kids everybody else picks on.
The teachers whisper it behind his back.
He has trouble doing math, because his dyslexia makes it hard to read the problems.
He can't read, because his dyslexia makes the letters spin around the page.
He can't focus, because he has ADHD.
But the kids don't know that, because an idiot is all they see.
He carves it onto his left hand.
The kids don't forget to remind him of this.
He doesn't have friends at school, because he's a monster magnet, and that will just get his friends hurt.
He doesn't have a girlfriend, even though the girls throw themselves at him and the shy girls secretly like him, because the girl he loved died over the summer fighting Mother Earth.
But they don't know that's why he pushes them away, and they are angry about that, so they call him a loser.
He carves it onto his right forearm.
The kids hiss it at him as he walks down the halls.
They don't know that this freak fought in two wars and saved the world.
He carves it onto his bicep.
They tell him how weak he is every day as they push him around, because he doesn't fight back.
They don't know that he doesn't fight back because he doesn't want to hurt them.
That they may hurt him every day, but he won't be like them.
They don't know that weak guy is the strongest hero.
He carves it onto shoulder.
That's what the kids at school tell him every day.
"You are worthless."
Because he isn't a part of any clubs, because he doesn't want the friends he will make to get hurt.
Because he doesn't join a sports team, because if he joins the swim team it will be unfair.
It doesn't matter that he saved the world, that the people he loves and cares for tell him how much he is worth as often as they can, because just one negative comment takes all of that away.
All they will ever see is how worthless he is.
He carves it onto his chest.
The kids taunt him, telling him nobody loves him.
The gods are too busy to spend time with their hero, and they couldn't even if they wanted to.
His friends don't have time for him.
His mentor has new heroes to train, and can't take the time to talk to him that much anymore.
His mom is busy with her own, new, normal family, and he doesn't want them to get hurt because of him.
His dad is the god of the seas, he can't interfere in his life, even if all he wants to do is tell him how much he loves his son.
The girl he loves is dead.
He feels unloved.
He believes the words are true.
That's how many times he slashed his wrists to end his life.
When the man who works the attendance office comes up to his dorm to see why he isn't in class, he can't help but let out a scream.
Because on the floor is the eighteen-year old boy that was bullied every single day, and nobody bothered to help.
And he is lying in a pool of his own blood.
He found the boy, but it was how nobody would want to find him.
His mother breaks down in tears, because maybe if she called him more often, he wouldn't have killed himself.
The gods shed golden tears, because they couldn't save their hero when he needed them most.
His friends burn his shroud, tears spilling down their cheeks, because they could have helped him, they could have called, but they didn't.
His mentor sheds his tears in privacy, because he didn't find the time for his favorite student, and he feels like it's his fault his student killed himself.
His dad breaks down, tears spilling, and it seems as if they will never stop. The waves crash on the shores, it's raining, and he doesn't care. His favorite son is dead, his favorite son killed himself, and he couldn't help him, he couldn't be a father to him.
The girl he loves sheds tears of joy, because yes, he did suffer, but she is finally reunited with the boy she loves.
Tears are falling because he didn't kill himself, he was murdered by words.
The kids are guilty.
They told him he was an idiot, a loser, a freak, weak, worthless, unloved.
They murdered him with their words.
He thought he was an idiot.
He was smarter than you could ever imagine.
He thought he was a loser.
He was a hero.
He thought he was a freak.
He was unique.
He thought he was weak.
He was the strongest hero ever known.
He though he was worthless.
He was the most important person in history.
He thought he was unloved.
He was loved beyond belief.
He was Percy Jackson.
Words hurt. Words kill people sometimes. Because no matter what people say, somebody pushed a person to kill themselves. That person was murdered. So I ask of you all, please think before you speak, and don't talk negatively about people, whether it be to their face or behind their back, because you don't know whether your words will kill them.
This is my one-shot for suicide prevention day, and I hope you all found some meaning in it. Thank you for reading, because this was very important.