//------------------------------// // S2 Episode 9: The Flood Flows Free // Story: The Mute Octave // by HenryAnthonyCourtler //------------------------------// Chapter 9: The Flood Flows Free         Henry laid back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he kicked his shoes off, unceremoniously letting them fall to the floor. He screwed up, he really screwed up, and big time at that. ‘I can’t believe what I did... I don’t regret it because he fucking earned it, but ‘Tavi...’ Henry cringed as he thought of the broken, teary expression she gave him after the fight. His fist curled up in frustration. ‘I scared her! I made her cry when I always told myself, always, that I would protect her, not fucking traumatize her!’ He scolded himself mentally, grunting in frustration as he stared at the ceiling hopelessly.         Henry groaned and slapped himself in the face. ‘How do I see her? As a replacement mother? A girlfriend?’ He leaned over and opened his night stand, a case inside catching his attention. Picking it up gingerly, he sat back against the headboard and gazed at it quietly. ‘Mom...’ He thought as he looked at the simple rectangular black box with her name, rank, and patrol number engraved on the cover. Sliding the lid forward, his hand caressed the cool barrel of a Custom M9 Beretta. The gun was free of manufacturer logos, with a custom grip that seemed to melt into his fingers as he picked it up. Holding it in his right hand, he hefted it above his head, grasping it with both hands as his mom had always done at the range. The gun was his mother’s. As close to his mother’s as it could be, at least. A replica he paid the local gunsmith who had crafted the original to make. The only difference, of course, was that the grip fit perfectly into his hand. Gone were the nicks, scratches, and minor scuffs the original had endured during the time it was used.  Not a single sin, scar, or marking on it; the image of perfection. Nothing that could tar or diminish how he remembered her. Henry bit his lip, trying to control his breathing, just like how his mother had taught him all those years at the gun range when she snuck him a couple of tries every now and then. He pushed the mag button, catching the magazine smoothly as he looked at it. Filled to capacity, just as he last left it. Sliding it back in, Henry cocked back the slider, licking his dry lips as he  gazed at the gun with intent. His eyes glazed over as he remember something some teachers would ask back in high school.         Mr. Finley walked across the front of the class, leaning against the front of his desk as he was always prone to do. “If you could bring one person back to life, and ask them a question, who would it be, and why? What question would you ask?” The class was quiet before someone spoke up. “I’d bring back my dog...I miss her alot. She grew up with me, ya know?” Several students listed off people and pets they missed, yet Henry sat back, watching them all from his seat.         After a few of the students had listed a few celebrities, or old-timey scientists, Mr. Finley looked up at Henry. “Ahh, Henry, would you like to share with the class as well?”         Mr. Finley motioned towards the blackboard, and Henry stepped up to it. Without thinking, he began to sketch his mother’s gun, cocked and ready to fire. Above the gun, in a flowing script he’d developed over the years, he wrote “Mom,” and below it “am I a good boy?” He turned and faced the class, and everyone was quiet. He knew what they were seeing. He’d drawn the gun so that when he turned around and leaned back, it was right near his temple. Leisurely, Henry reached out towards the teacher’s desk and picked up one of the history books laying there. He brought it up to waist level, and held it there, arm trembling. When he dropped it, it’d make a loud noise. He’d already done this every year since the fifth grade, and each time with a different group of students. His hand stopped trembling and he let the book fall. BANG. Someone cried out, and Henry slumped against the blackboard, feeling exhausted. The teacher, looking shocked and trembled a bit, handing him a hastily written note. “H-here, Henry. W-why don’t you... go to the counselor’s office?”         Henry breathed deeply again, eyes misting up slightly as he read the engraving on the right side of the barrel. Cadencia’s Silence, Henry’s Promise was engraved in cursive. His fingers brushed over the engraving several times as he closed his eyes, feeling even further detached from the world than he already did.         The muted sound of people walking into the apartment barely registered in his mind, but Henry slowly caressed the gun one more time before checking the safety. ‘I’d better put this away, in case that’s the pol—’         “Henry, no!” Suddenly, somebody was on top of him, scratching at his arms as they flailed around, his assailant trying to grab his gun. “Don’t ya do that, Henry! Don’t ya dare do that!” With a thwump, Henry and Jackie fall off the bed, the gun skittering across the wooden floor.         “Henry?” Octavia poked her head in through the doorway hesitantly, biting her lip as she glanced around before spotting her roommate and the crazed cowgirl. He struggled to move before noticing Jackie, eyeing her quizzically as she held him down.         Henry tried to gesture with a hand, but her grasp was quite firmly keeping him in place. “Ya consarn’d idjit! What in Sam hill did’ja think you were doin’?! Tain’t right to go takin’ th’ easy way out, an’ it ain’t fair ta yer friends, neither! Why woulja even think a doin’ that, ya stupid boy? Why!”         Jackie flinched as Octavia touched her shoulder. “Umm... he can’t answer you like that, Jackie.”         Henry gently removed the young woman from on top of himself, before slowly and calmly getting off the floor and walking over to the gun. He kneeled down and slowly checked it over, picking the gun up by the barrel and pulling out the empty clip, checking everything for scuffs or nicks. Octavia went over to Jackie, to see if she was alright. “Jackie...” The blonde girl shivered, looking and leaning away from Octavia’s outstretched hand. As she looked away, the one-time farmgirl spied a small, plain-looking box--the case for Henry’s gun. Reaching out for it, she numbly picked it off the floor, a photo tucked inside the lid fluttering into her lap. Octavia leaned over Jackie’s shoulder as the two stared at the picture. In it, a tall, slender woman with long auburn hair is posing, a gun matching Henry’s in her right hand as she kissed the barrel, giving the camera a wink. A young boy is hanging from her left arm, a wide smile on his face as he reaches for a golden ribbon the woman is holding. “Milford Police Dept. Gunslinger’s Contest, First Place,” Octavia murmurs as she squints at the slightly blurred ribbon. Henry gasped, shuddering as he heard her murmur the name of the event. He turned around nervously, his hands shaking slightly as he handed her the gun with the grip facing her. The young man rubbed his hands before grabbing his phone and watching her. Octavia looked the gun over, just vaguely recognizing what it was, before passing it on to Jackie, who shakily set it in its box. “Why?” She croaked out, voice shaking. “Why would ya scare me like that, Henry? Ah thought... I thought...” He looked down guiltily, holding his phone up. ‘That was never my intention. I’m sorry for making you worry. I was honestly just looking at it because I… I needed to get things off my mind.’ Henry explained, sitting on the bed with his head lowered. Octavia sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. “Henry, you can always count on us if you need to unload. You don’t have to hold it all in. Not for my sake, not for Jackie’s sake, and not for your sake, either. We’re your friends, and...” Octavia smiled warmly, turning Henry’s face towards her. “As I’ve come to believe these last few months, friendship is magical.” Henry’s face burned a deep red as he gazed back at her, unable to move a muscle as the gears in his head froze. He breathed the tiniest of breaths as he nervously waited for whatever she would say next. “Henry...” Octavia’s eyes sparkled as he stared at her intensely. “You’re scared, Henry. I can see it in you, and I saw it in you at the school.” Henry’s breathing cut off with a gasp, his heart jumping in his throat. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Henry. I can’t be a good friend if I can’t help you. Not after all you’ve done for me. Please, Henry.” Her eyes were shimmering, and suddenly he couldn’t see her anymore. Pulling a trembling hand to his face, Henry realized he was crying. When had he done that last? A while, at least. His throat dry and raspy, he keened as he bowed his head once more, his arms hanging loosely around Tavi’s shoulders. “Shhh.... shh, It’s okay, just let it all out. I’m not going to leave you like this.” Octavia looked past Henry to see Jackie standing there, seemingly at a loss. Motioning with her head, Octavia sent her away, and Jackie numbly followed orders, slight tremors wracking her body as she tried to stay calm. Octavia began to hum, her melodious voice carrying down the hallway and helping Jackie relax as she slumped on the couch, her breathing calming down after her initial panic. He absolutely shook in pure terror as he kept trying to clear his throat, only to feel it tighten back up. Henry hyperventilated as he  tried to do something he had refused to do in well over ten years: talk. Every attempt to manipulate his vocal chords felt alien to him, only further tugging at the fear in the pit of his stomach. “...Hhh... Hiiii... Hii-I-I… I love hyou…” he rasped out quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around her, waiting for her to once again put him down. Deep down, he felt like a fool for not only crying in front of her, but for even trying to open to her verbally… a promise he was willing to break for her. A promise that had been engraved to his absolute core. As Henry’s body went limp, small shivers rocking his frame as he continued to cry silently, Octavia tensed up, her breath catching in her throat as her tears grew in intensity. “...!” Octavia felt a smile cross her face, growing uncontrollably as she held Henry tighter, struck speechless. ‘I love you too, Henry,’ she thought as she gently tilted his head up, pressing her lips against his. ‘I love you too!’