Small splashes
Percy It’s been three weeks since Jordan moved me into the Palace- and yes, it is all it’s made out to be. In all my life, I’ve never lived in a more put-together or comfortable house. Jordan’s family is lovely, and the staff is so kind and considerate; even the goons that Jordan insists watch over me from afar are somehow easy to be around… but I’m still miserable. Ever since that last doctor’s appointment, I have tried to push the diagnosis out of my mind. Or more like my reaction to it. But of course, that isn’t possible. The file Jordan took for me is burning a hole into the drawer of my nightstand. And I find myself unable to ‘just face it.’ My usual philosophy doesn’t apply here, which has made me feel like the rug has just been pulled from under me, and I’m trying my best not to
- Writer
