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Hector destroyed the metal around his father’s body and dropped to the floor, unable even to stand. He was exhausted and in pain and nothing made sense. Nothing, except for the fact that everything hurt.

The weight of it all washed over him--a series of horrible waves. His father. His friends. His home. His school. Everything that was supposed to be normal about his life. Everything that was supposed to be safe. He couldn’t think of a single thing that had not been destroyed. Obliterated.

He wept. He didn’t know what else to do. His brain felt numb. He couldn’t sort anything out.

‘Garovel?’ he tried. ‘Are you back yet...? Please be back...’ He waited for a response but received none. He sighed. ‘I could really use your advice right now...’

At length, he remembered Sheryl and Ms. Trent. If nothing else, he could at least go check on them. Maybe he could figure out what to do after that.

Groaning, covered in blood, and clutching his ribcage, Hector struggled to his feet again.


Chapter Thirty-Two: ‘Steadfast heart, expect not refuge...’
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Hector kept his helm on in front of the ladies. Even if it was splattered with blood, he still preferred that to revealing his haggard, tear-stricken face. He honestly wasn’t sure he would be able to talk to them right now without something to hide behind.

“So it’s safe now?” Sheryl asked. “It’s r-really safe? You’re sure?”

“Yeah...”

Sheryl seemed reluctant with her relief. “And the police--where are they?”

“Out front,” he said. “I’ll take you to them.”

“N-no,” she said, backing away. “I’ll go on my own. It’s safe, right?”

“Y-yeah, it is...”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Sheryl. “I’m grateful. You saved me. But. But you. Please, just--just stay away from me from now on. I don’t--I mean--please...”