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‘Seriously? You were just shot five times, Hector. Not to mention you saw a guy’s brain spilling out of his head. And then Mallory, too. I’m surprised this didn’t happen when you were stabbed last night. Just relax a moment. Sit down. You’ll be fine.’

The sirens had stopped. They’d reached the house. Sitting in the grass with his legs folded together, he just breathed and tried to think. He frowned and pulled his mask off, as well. He touched the bullet hole with his thumb. “What did I do wrong, Garovel?” he whispered. “I could have saved him... couldn’t I? I screwed up... but... agh...”

The reaper floated around him. ‘Do you remember what I said before? Sometimes there won’t be a good option left to choose.’

“...Is that supposed to be comforting?”

‘No. It’s not. Because we’re not supposed to be comfortable. Being comfortable makes us complacent. Sloppy.’

“Then... what are you saying?”

‘I’m saying we did our best. And we don’t respond to failure with depression. We respond by becoming better. Until our best is good enough.’

Hector hesitated, but gave a solemn nod. After another moment, he asked, “What do we do now?”

‘At the very least, you need a change of clothes. Do you know how to get home?’

“Um... actually, no. I’m completely lost...”

‘Then I’ll guide you home and return on my own to observe. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find out where the mother and daughter are. Put your mask away. It’ll only draw attention. It’s a bit cold, but without your shirt, you can just look like a jogger.’

He bagged the mask and shirt both and started running, sticking to sidewalks whenever he could.