The Unspoken Introduction of Hercules Mulligan

Chapter 15

Herc's POV:

Angelica burst into the apartment fifteen minutes after I got off the phone with her. She saw Alex hunched over and shouted at me to tell her what was wrong. I shoved the newspaper article into her hand, unable to explain. She read it, and although I saw how she collapsed internally, saw it in her eyes, she didn't falter on the outside. She strode over to the couch, and pulled Alex close. "Make some tea, please," she instructed me, her voice muffled by Alex's shoulder. I did as she said, glad to have something to do, even as the the fog followed me, even though I was still unable to form a coherent thought.

I didn't realize the kettle was whistling until Angelica strode into the kitchen and shut it off. She reached for the cabinet that held the mugs and took three down. When she spoke, her voice was thin and taut, a string stretched tight.

"John is dead?"

I didn't respond, and she didn't ask again.

"How come we didn't find out? Sooner than this, I mean."

I just shook my head, more in an attempt to clear the gray than anything.

She leaned against the counter, suddenly unsteady. I wanted to reach out, support her, comfort her, something, but couldn't find the strength.

"Herc, what are we going to do?"

I reached out then, wrapping my arms around her. My bulk swallowed her thin frame, and she was hollow, breakable. She didn't cry and I didn't either. I just shut my eyes and listened to her breathing, think and shallow. Her lavender scent permeated the gray just a bit and it was jarring--something that usually made my insides dance in the midst of the sudden confusion and horror.

John was dead.

What?

The doorbell rang a few moments later. I didn't move and it rang again, then again, incessant. Angie pulled away from me and strode to the door. Looking past her, I saw Laf's curls, his purple sweatshirt. They talked for a moment in hushed voices, then Laf staggered. He made a noise, cried out. Angelica hugged him, then handed him the paper.

I watched them for a few more moments, then suddenly, it was all too much. I pushed away from the counter and nearly ran down the hall. I burst into my room and collapsed onto my bed, ignoring Angelica for the first time in my life. The blood was pounding in my head and I was fixated on it. The article had said John had been shot in a 7/11. Was there blood on the walls now? There must be. I had watched enough Law & Order to know that when someone was shot to kill, there was a lot of blood. An image of scarlet blood splattered across a Slurpee machine flashed through my head and I fought the insane urge to laugh. What if they didn't clean all of it off, and months later some kid went to fill their Big Gulp, and there was blood on the dispenser? What if--

The door opening disturbed my fucked-up thoughts, and Laf peaked around the frame. "Hey." I didn't trust my voice to work, so I said nothing.

He stepped inside and closed the door. "I'm gonna stay with you for a little bit, is that okay?"

I nodded, and he moved to sit beside me on the bed. We sat for a while, the gray swirling in my head. Eventually, he laid a hand on my arm and the fog seemed to stir a bit around him. "Herc..."

And at the sound of my name, I broke. I collapsed against Laf's chest, into his arms and soft voice, as tears swelled out of me, finally, as they hadn't in years.

A/N: HOLY SWEET JESUS it's been a while. Wow, I am sorry! I've had a crazy lot going on, and this has fallen by the wayside. We're getting somewhere, though, and I am so glad y'all have continued to read and support! 💕