Ἕκτωρ ♚ Vincent King (armystrong) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-09-19 12:23:00 |
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When the dialtone kicked in on the other end of the line, Hector kept still, the phone glued against his ear as though he anticipated some further explanation, something, anything. His head raced with thoughts, and when the dialtone began to sound too much like a flatline -- didn't want to think about that -- he hung up, threw on his jacket and shoes, and flew out the apartment door like a possessed man.
He kept the radio off on the ride to the police station, figuring any further distractions might have ran him off the road. The steering wheel bore the brunt of his distress as he gripped it tightly enough to whiten his knuckles, and if he'd reached the station any later, his hand might have been torn up from the stress. Hector was grateful to be directed once he arrived, hating the feeling of being lost, but mostly the feeling of not knowing what to do.
A part of him wished it was Helen, but the other half wished against it. Perhaps it was someone else. Andromache. Polyxena. Cassandra. Briseis. But he knew nothing, and that was what angered him the most.
Once he laid his eyes on Helen's face, his heart skipped a beat in his chest.