A bear: the question, obviously the question XD
Ilovebhna: spoilers :)
Ninja: I read it, nicely written ;)
BT: My favourite few words :D
Realisty check: Okay, first thing's first: I reserve the right to answer your question, so ignoring you is definitely on the table. The only reason I'm not is because you know you're being too much, and you know your reaction is too much over a fucking question. The reason I can't give you a 'yes or no answer', is because it's not a yes or no question! The question wasn't, "Is a dog an animal?" The question was, "Should people get over their problems?" I stand by my previous answer, and say it can go both ways due to a number of factors. Now enough. I don't know why you're obsessing over my answer.
Caetlyn: XD just read this, dude
Here's the next chapter :)
ooo
Heron stiffened, her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the bloodied hole in her chest.
Webby grasped for something, anything, as Heron's thumb made its way down towards the button that was going to end Dewey's life. Her scrambling fingers finally latched onto something hard and heavy, her eyes widening once she figured out what it was: a loaded gun that had skidded its way from one of the fallen Eggheads. Webby didn't care, she raised the weapon, and fired it at Heron.
BOOM!
The room went silent. F.O.W.L and S.H.U.S.H alike stopped fighting, all stunned at what Webby had just done—Heron slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting up against it. Blood smeared against the window behind her, streaking the window as her body fell. She coughed out spurts of thick blood, and her breathing became shallow. But through the pain, she managed a large smile, staring right at Webby.
"A killer," she croaked. "Just like me, Steelbeak, and your father."
Then she went limp.
Webby's hand began shaking uncontrollably when she realized what she had just done. She dropped the gun, and the clatter echoed throughout the room, making the deafening silence become more and more prominent. Webby grew pale, and her knees buckled: if it hadn't been for Huey catching her, she would've collapsed completely.
Webby shook violently in Huey's strong arms, vomit bubbling and churning inside of her throat. Huey grew alarmed, flipping her onto her side as she emptied out the contents in her stomach.
"I-I, she was going t-to, I h-had no ch-choice." she tried to stammer out, flashes of Heron's creepy grin burned into her brain.
He pressed soft kisses against her forehead. "I know, Webbs, it's not your fault, shhh…" he coaxed.
Despite his comforting words, she found her head lolling back: it was all too overwhelming, and her vision went black.
ooo
Beep, beep, beep, beep…
The steady rate of the EKG was the first thing that she heard. Webby stirred, and her eyes slowly fluttered open. It was still dark out the window, and she found that Dewey was asleep next to her, his arm nestled inside of a sling. His head was bandaged up, and there were minor bruises on his body, but other than that, he seemed to be okay.
Webby gazed down to study her own injuries: her leg was wrapped in a thick cast, but that seemed to be the only major injury. Her arm was hooked onto an IV tube, and she closed her eyes, listening to the fluid drip into the bag every so often.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and reopened when she heard somebody shuffling next to her.
"Hey, angel," Dewey whispered, standing up.
"Where are we?" Webby wondered out loud. This didn't look like Duckburg Central Hospital.
"Those S.H.U.S.H reinforcements? They took us back to their base, and they've been tending to our injuries for the past couple of days."
"Is everyone alright?"
Dewey nodded. "Everybody except Lena. She collapsed during the fight."
He brushed her hair back with his rough, calloused hand, and planted a small, tender kiss against his girlfriend's forehead. "How are you feeling?"
Webby sighed. "I… I don't know." she admitted honestly. "I want to be okay, I want to feel okay." She clenched her eyes shut, and took a deep breath. "But every time I close my eyes, all I see is her. That smile."
Dewey let her words sink in: this wasn't like their last F.O.W.L mission; Steelbeak was a predictable comic book villain compared to his crazy estranged wife: Heron knew their weak points, and she knew where to hit them. Knowing that Webby couldn't let Dewey die, she was sure that Webby would pull the trigger. She played a risky gamble, fully knowing it would be in her favour. It seemed like Heron had lost the battle, when in reality, she had gotten exactly what she wanted: a legacy in Webby and Huey.
Dewey knew he couldn't do much except be there for Webby, and console her. He held her as close as he could with his free arm, and the two embraced. Webby buried her face in his chest, and he sighed.
Things had changed.
ooo
"Heron has been a lost cause since Webby's father died. Her and Steelbeak. That's why they went so off the rails. It was too late for either of them." Beakley told him.
Standing in front of her was a tall, withered old man. From the sides of his head sprouted a mess of short gray hair. He was muscular and well built, which was surprising for his age. He was wearing a collared shirt with a dark suit jacket over it, with dark dress pants.
Director Ludwig Von Drake.
Director Von Drake had witnessed plenty of F.O.W.L cases, but this one was too extreme. Even for him. Pulling off his round glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and let loose a shaky breath.
"This is bad, 22. Real bad. Especially for that boy, Hubert, and Webbigail. Never in all my years as the Director at S.H.U.S.H, have I ever heard such a bloody story."
Beakley stayed silent.
"I will need the written statements from all of you," Drake murmured. "But only if everyone is ready. I understand if time is needed."
Beakley just nodded, and excused herself from his office. As soon as she was out of his sight, she rummaged through her pocket, bringing out the hard drive that Reaper had provided Webby with.
She smiled.
ooo
Lena still had not woken up. Louie, Dewey, and Huey were standing around her bed, very concerned, despite the fact that her vital signs had steadily been improving. Webby, who was in a wheelchair, wheeled herself over to the group and also shared in the worry for Lena's health.
"She has never been unconscious this long, has she?" she asked somberly.
"No, she hasn't," Louie replied back, his voice mournful.
Huey felt a wave of guilt assault him. Her heartbeat was still very slow, but her breathing was steady and rhythmic, and her skin wasn't quite so deathly pale now. Her face was peaceful. Why hadn't she woken up yet?
"Lads," a thick, Scottish voice mumbled behind them, and Scrooge revealed himself. "It is getting late. You should all get some rest."
Huey, Dewey, and Webby all glanced at each other, and a silent understanding passed between the trio. It was clear Scrooge wanted to be alone with Louie.
"You're right, we should hit the hay. Goodnight Uncle Scrooge. Goodnight Louie."
Louie didn't reply, instead pacing around nervously. Scrooge was watching him with a sympathetic gaze.
"Why isn't she awake, Scrooge?" he asked.
"Her vital signs show she is well, lad. I do not know more about how Lena's powers work."
"She's gotta wake up," he brayed, his shoulders drooping sadly as he flopped into a chair. Scrooge patted his shoulder compassionately.
Both looked up, startled, as a beep alerted them.
Lena's eyes shot open, and she sat up with a strangled gasp, her hands grasping and rumpling the blankets around her. She looked around wildly as Louie grabbed one of her hands. She placed her other hand on her chest, slowing her sudden panting breath, her eyes wide, as she stared at the concerned faces around her.
Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at Louie intently, her eyes glazed. He said her name softly.
"Lena…?"
"Lena, are you okay?" Scrooge asked.
A S.H.U.S.H nurse bustled inside, checking the machines and Lena's health.
"She is perfectly back to normal," she assessed, before exiting.
Lena certainly didn't look normal. She looked terrified.
"Lena, please, is everything all right?" Louie asked worriedly, his voice almost shrilly at the strange sort of panic still evident in Lena's eyes.
She began to get up, and Louie and Scrooge's hands kept her on the bed with protests.
"I have to go," Lena said shortly, struggling to get off the medical bed, and Louie had to swallow the lump in his throat at the sight of her frantically trying to escape.
"Lena, wait!" snapped Scrooge as she hobbled out of bed and into the hallway.
She didn't spare him a glance, kept stumbling against the wall, her eyes wide and her breaths coming in pants, her medical gown hanging on her loosely.
Louie was right on her tail. A blast of purple magic surged up before him to block his way but he darted around it, catching up with her.
"What is going on with you? Lena, please!" he said, frightened over the way she was acting. He grabbed her arms and pulled her to him.
Lena buried her face into his neck before pulling away saying hoarsely, "Don't follow me."
Then, she phased through the door.
"Damn it," Louie grunted. He didn't know the layout of S.H.U.S.H's base, and the base was huge. It would take hours to search every room, not to mention he had the slightest clue as to where she would run off to.
Lena phased up through the floor, ending up at an unoccupied hospital room.
Immediately she fell to her knees and her body began to shudder as sobs wracked her body. Her magic picked up objects throughout the room and began breaking and tossing them. There was a strange sort of tingling still pulsing through her, the essence of her recent pain and memories that hadn't left yet.
Tears dripped onto her hands and the floor as she dug her fingers into her gown.
A few moments later, Louie practically flew into her room. He had been searching for over 20 minutes, and finally had some luck.
He dropped to his knees next to her, pulling her into his arms. Lena let him, hanging limply as she still poured out the feelings pent up inside her. It was like a weight was constricting her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. The pain nestled in her chest, feeling like a black tar that clogged her lungs.
Lena suddenly pushed away from Louie's arms and stumbled to the bathroom, slamming the door closed. He winced when he heard the sounds of Lena emptying the contents of her stomach. Louie wondered how she had anything in her system to even expel.
After a few moments it sounded like she was done, so he waited for her to come back out. When she didn't reappear for several minutes, he tentatively knocked on her bathroom door.
"Lena?"
She didn't answer.
"Babe? I'm coming in."
There was no protest, so Louie opened the door.
Lena was sitting, knees spread, hugging the toilet with her head resting on her arm.
"Lena," he said shakily, "Lena please, what happened?"
When she didn't answer he tried again. "What's wrong, please Lena… I've never seen you like this before," he said, his voice shrill and scared.
"I can't… it's… noth—" she mumbled incoherently, shaking her head.
Louie lifted her up into his arms. She felt extremely weak. He set her on her bathroom counter and got a glass of water for her. She took a sip, swished it around her mouth and spit it out in the sink. She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, and he took a towel and gently wiped her cheeks. Lena's eyes were closed, though tears continued to leak from them. Louie hugged her to him, resting her head on his shoulder and cradling her bottom in his arms. He carried her to her bed and laid her on it.
"Y-you can go," she croaked.
"No, I won't leave you."
He pulled her into his embrace and cradled her back against his stomach. She continued to cry as he stroked her hair and whispered into her ear. Objects around her room persisted to fly and break, her magic uncontrollable.
Finally, two hours later, her hard sobs became sniffles, and things only randomly broke every once in a while. Louie had hugged her the entire time, offering her consolation. She turned around and buried her face into his chest.
"The death," she sniffled. "That I sensed before the mission? It was Reaper. I've never experienced anything like this before. And now… he's gone. And Henry's gone. And so is Heron."
"Everyone's influence is coming back to you, isn't it? Because you sensed it."
"Reaper's death was the one that pushed me over the edge. I didn't even know a robot could make me feel like that, but he did. That's when I passed out."
He pressed a kiss to her temple. "It's all over now, Lena."
She snuggled into his warm chest. "I know it is… so why do I feel like this? Why is my magic so unstable?"
He wished he had the answer. "I don't know, babe. But it'll get better soon."
ooo
Sally, Fenton, and Gandra stayed behind at the base, while Scrooge took his family home. Once they got to the manor, a steely silence fell upon the family:
Donald was quick to envelope his family in a hug, but the tension was thicker than rope, and Louie was sure only something like Lena's Diamond Dagger would be sufficient enough to cut it. Daisy, Della, and Launchpad stood behind Donald, obviously shocked from what had happened.
The crew stood there, completely frozen and unsure of what to do—console Huey and Webby, update Della, Daisy, Donald, and Launchpad, or get some rest? The McDuck Clan had never been put in a place where each and every one of them had been through something rough, Huey and Webby specifically.
Huey felt a sense of disconnection just standing there next to Dewey and Louie, despite being trapped with a dangerous F.O.W.L agent a few days ago. The adults stood behind them in a loose formation, but Huey could feel the worry roll off of them.
To their surprise, he was the one that spoke first:
"I'm going to shower."
Those four simple words lingered in the air before Scrooge finally regained his composure. "Err… yes. Go shower, lad. And H-Huey, if you ever want to talk—"
Huey ignored him, and ventured inside. The family shuffled uneasily before Scrooge finally addressed how they should handle things:
"Go shower, and get some rest, lads. A lot has happened and we need time to process it." he sighed heavily, before heading inside himself, and the others slowly followed.
ooo
Huey studied his body: there were nail scratches raked all over his back and chest, several hickies were evident on his neck, all a painful reminder. He still vividly smelled Heron's scent, her touch, her lips… her. She had manipulated him, she had controlled him, and she had taken advantage of him so many times.
How was he supposed to face Violet?
How was he supposed to face any of them?
Huey stepped into the shower, and closed his heavy eyes, letting the boiling hot water consume his being—no matter how many times he was going to clean his body, he would always be tainted, and Heron was always going to be a part of him no matter how hard he tried to forget.
Huey Duck was finally broken.
ooo
Webby sat there silently, trying her hardest not to flinch as Dewey smoothed out the wrappings around her bare chest with his uninjured arm, his cold hand and the swelling of his bruises making it difficult to sit still. Dewey's face was bright red and he spent as much time as he could staring away from her toned body. An awkward silence fell over the couple, who were determined to just get the elephant in the room over with.
"How are we going to talk to Huey about this? How are we going to talk to Violet about this? This is all my fault!" Webby snapped, trying her best not to sound fearful, but she was failing miserably. Tears began welling in her eyes, and she shuddered.
Webby stopped as her boyfriend held her closely. Even though he had the same doubts and fears as she did, he wasn't going to let her blame herself for Heron's actions. Webby melted into Dewey's embrace like jello, and she stopped shaking once she was in the comfort of his arm.
"Webbs," he whispered softly into her ear, before breaking the hug, but still keeping his hand on her waist. "Don't blame yourself for what Heron did."
He kissed her, and Webby let herself immerse in the feeling of his soft, slightly chapped lips on her own.
Dewey pulled away. "I know what Heron did was horrible. It makes me sick to my stomach, and it makes me want to hurt her for what she did to him." His tone took on a deep and grave tone, one that she had never heard him use before.
But then again, Dewey had never been put in a situation this extreme—she knew he felt just as powerless as she did, and he was mentally berating himself just as much as she was.
Her boyfriend's head was down so she couldn't see his expression. "But he's strong. All he needs is some time to figure all of this out," Dewey's voice cracked with emotion. "You're okay… i-if I had lost you in that battle, Webby, I would've killed myself." his voice was wavering, and she felt a tear drip onto her bare leg, and it trickled down her thigh, and onto the bathroom floor.
Webby cupped his face, and tilted his face up so that he was facing her. She used her thumbs to wipe away the tears from his irises. She wrapped her arms gently around him, and Dewey stroked Webby's hair softly, letting out a relieved sigh.
Everything would be okay.
ooo
Huey trudged his way to his bedroom after his shower, and decided it was best to sleep—he tossed his towel to the side, and grabbed a red tank top and grey sweatpants. He glanced at the triple bunk bed, and decided that if he stayed here, his brothers were bound to console him: something he didn't want right now.
With a small, frustrated growl, he grabbed his things, and headed towards one of the many spare bedrooms the Manor provided, wanting nothing more than to sleep. He wanted to pretend everything was okay, because at least in his dreams, this fucking adventure didn't happen.
He sighed deeply.
What kind of person was he? He had gotten kidnapped, and endangered everyone. And on top of everything, he had been unfaithful to Violet. Who knows what would've happened had his family not come to save him?
All the nasty emotions and shame gnawed at his entire being. He tried to drift off to sleep, tossing and turning on the bed, but all he could think of was how horrible he was at being a brother, nephew, friend, and boyfriend…
-1 week later-
The city had returned to some form of normalcy, and most of the citizens didn't exactly remember what had happened. All they knew was that it was something that everyone, even the thugs, had agreed to put behind them.
Violet, who hadn't been able to see her boyfriend since the mission ended, bounded up the stairs towards his bedroom.
Webby had told her that he was hurting, and left it at that. She didn't fill Violet in on any of the details, and not being there at the mission was frustrating. She knew something big happened to her as well, but nobody would share what had happened. She knew about Huey's assault, and she needed to be there for him.
The manor was empty, and Duckworth had told her that Huey had been using a spare bedroom. She knocked on the door, ready to hug him.
The door swung open, revealing a very disheveled Huey. "What are you doing here?"
It wasn't exactly the greeting that Violet had been expecting. The teen was thrown off, as she stumbled over the start of a response. "What kind of question is that? I haven't properly seen you since the mission."
"Well, take a good look." he grumbled, and the air around them turned tense.
Huey's expression remained stern. The tips of Violet's nails dug into the palms of her hands, as she nervously folded her arms over her chest. She had never heard her boyfriend grumble at her so stoically as he just had, but she wasn't particularly surprised either. But, damn it, Violet didn't care. She wanted to see Huey. She needed to see him. She wasn't going to let her boyfriend rot away in that dark, grimy bedroom: especially not when she knew that he was hurting.
Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Violet offered a scoff tangled together with a soft giggle. "Wow, sounds like you're not even happy to see me."
His silent response instantly made her want to kick herself. Violet swallowed a harsh lump in her throat as she watched her boyfriend scowl. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected between them. One full of hurt, pain, and anguish, stunning their ability to properly communicate with one another.
Violet's eyes fell to the floor. For the first time in the decade that she had known him, she didn't have the first clue of what to say to Huey. She wanted to repeatedly fire a gun at Black Heron, and force the slimy agent to perish in the shower of bullets. But Violet also knew that mindset wasn't going to help Huey right now.
She drew in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears from welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Huey, please. Talk to m—"
"Violet, stop." he mumbled, realizing that she knew everything.
The three sharp syllables sliced right through her.
Violet narrowed her vision at Huey. He was still standing down, frozen in his position at the door, with his eyes absolutely fastened to his feet. His hands were balled in two tight fists. The speed of her heart began to pick up: he had barely uttered any more than the two words he had just spoken, and he certainly hadn't dared to properly exchange her glance.
What wasn't Huey saying to her?
"Huey?" she whispered silently, "What's… I mean, apart from the obvious… what's wrong?"
Huey's chest felt like it was on fire. He was bottling up so many overwhelming emotions that the extreme sense of guilt in his sternum was flaring up and burning the rest of his insides as well. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting there, and listening to Violet bestow so much undeserving care and kindness on him for a second longer.
He wasn't faithful. That was the big issue.
The next sentence threatening to dive off the tip of his tongue tasted sour.
"Violet," he repeated, his head still facing down, "We... we can't do this."
His words washed over her so swiftly that Violet could only blink.
"What do you—" she stuttered, "I know you're hurting, and I know it's going to be hard, but the gang and I are not going to leave your side until you're okay. It might take days, or weeks even, but—"
"And what if it doesn't?!" Huey snapped in over the top of her, finally flicking his dark orbs up to meet hers. "She broke me, Violet! It could take months for me to deal with all of this… I can't make you wait that long for me." Huey's voice was ambling on the verge of desperation as he swallowed harshly. "That's not fair on you."
Violet could barely believe what she was hearing. Forget about the damn mission, Huey's words were piercing holes in Violet's heart.
"And what about this is fair to you?" Violet challenged him. "You didn't do anything wrong, Huey, you're innocent. I'm not going to leave you. That's not fair on you."
"Vi—"
"No, no way! We are not even having this discussion," she interjected firmly. As she stood straight and held her shoulders back, Violet decidedly put her foot down. "I don't care if I have to wait 10 years for you to deal with what happened. If I can't go to college with you, marry you, and have kids with you, then I don't want any part of this life at all."
Huey's heart was coming apart at the seams. Every single future life event that he pictured spending with the woman before him who was listing them so sweetly, made another small part of his soul chip away. He wanted there to be something that Violet could say to him that would make him see the light at the end of the tunnel. Huey wished that there was. But what his girlfriend didn't know was that he had made up his mind hours ago.
You cheated on her.
She deserved more than that. Violet Apollonia Sabrewing deserved more than Hubert Duck.
"Violet, you need to listen to me—"
"Huey, no. I am not leaving you, just because you want to take the easy way out, and press pause on this."
Huey cringed inwardly all over again. He needed a way to make Violet understand the decision he had made. But, of course, the ever-so-stubborn Violet Sabrewing was never going to let her boyfriend go.
And so, as the all consuming sense of terror he had been feeling all day only continued to seep further and further into his brain, he finally snapped.
"Don't you get it?!" he suddenly thundered, looming over her, "This isn't me pressing pause on us, Violet! This is me dumping you."
The viciousness laced between his words slapped Violet hard across the face. She had forgotten to breathe as her lungs abruptly exhaled and she shook her head,
"You don't mean that."
Huey took a step towards her, his mind a scrambled mess as he sighed. "Look, I was trying to let you down gently, but—"
"No, you're lying," Violet declared with a cynical chuckle of disbelief, "You don't want this. The only thing you're trying to do is protect me. But I don't want you to protect me, I want you, Huey."
It dawned on her that he was within her reach, so she tried to take his hand in hers. The near contact made Huey's stomach twist up in knots as he ripped away from her.
"What did you think was actually going to happen with us?" he asked with cruel sarcasm, "What? Did you really think we were going to be together forever and live happily ever after? You've known me for almost ten years, Violet, I thought you would've figured out by now that I'm not exactly a commitment type of guy."
The toxic combination of the expression on Violet's face, and the words carelessly falling from his own lips made Huey want to throw up. But still, he pushed on.
"You'd be wasting the next few years of your life whether I'm with you or not. Go find someone else to be happy with."
Violet was definitely holding herself together as she sniffled just once, and absolutely glowered at Huey.
"You're so full of shit," she spat at him, "After Dewey and Webby's fight, you looked me dead in the eye, and told me that you were scared that we'll have a huge fight that we might not recover from! And you promised me that if we do fight, to remember that moment! Well, I'm remembering it, Huey!"
"That was the real lie," Huey snapped right back without a second thought, "I asked you not to come, and now I'm telling you to leave. Do I need to spell anything else out for you?"
The first real sob finally cracked from the back of her throat as Violet threw her arms out to either side. "Yeah, maybe! Why the hell were you even with me in the first place, Mr. I'm Not Exactly A Commitment Type Of Guy?"
His filter slipped maybe a bit too far as his bottom lip curled up in a snarl. "Because of those legs that were constantly spread wide open!" he shouted, gesturing to her pelvis like it was some kind of prized possession.
She gasped, and stepped back. Never in a million years would she have expected him to talk—or gesture—to her like that. The safe feeling that she usually felt with him was replaced by one that felt unwanted, and almost perverted.
He didn't stop, undeterred by her violent reaction. "Oh, please. You put out for me by the second month we were together. What was I supposed to do? Not stay?"
The venom from him was poison to her ears as Violet's guts heaved and she took the back of her arm to her face to wipe her eyes. The black mascara stains on her blouse were as dark as the clouds looming over her and Huey's relationship.
Violet bit down hard on her bottom lip, and balled her fist up in a heated frenzy.
"So, that's it? You don't love me anymore?"
The answer appeared in Huey's brain in the most micro fraction of a millisecond, but Violet was daring him to say anything different: anything to contradict what she was smart enough to know was just another one of his cowardice facades he was using to cut all ties between them.
Maybe Violet was too scared to put herself first and try to move on and be happy without Huey. But Huey was definitely too scared to swallow his damn pride and just tell Violet the truth.
"No."
Her soul left her body, but somehow, Violet was still standing. Her eyes were fastened to Huey's, but his appearance remained firm. A single, silent tear sprung from the corner of Violet's iris and rolled down her cheek.
"Well, congratulations," she hummed cynically, "You officially just became the one person whose footsteps you've desperately been trying to avoid your entire life, Mr. Duck."
His eyes widened in disbelief once he realized that she was comparing him to his unavailable father—the man who had walked out on them from day one, the man who decided that it was okay to walk out on Della the second he had found out that he had gotten her pregnant. The insult was the worst thing she could have fired at him. The final word that rolled so spitefully off the end of her tongue threatened to crumble Huey's confident stance as his knees wobbled and he swallowed back a sob as hard as he could.
But luckily for Huey, Violet had finally heard all she could possibly bear.
"Enjoy rotting, Duck." she spat, leaving.
Huey nearly bit his tongue completely off in his attempts not to call after her as she left.
As quickly as Violet had appeared in front of his room—the beautiful, smart, amazing, angelic love of his life—she slipped away into the shadows, and out of sight.
And at that moment, Huey wasn't sure if he would ever see her again.
He shut the door, and Huey twirled around on the spot and instantly sensed the pained tears pouring down his face. He balled up his right hand, letting out a single, agonising scream as he thrashed his fist into the solid wall of his room. His shouting only intensified as he felt three or four different bones in his knuckles let out some nasty cracks. But Huey didn't care. No amount of physical harm he caused to himself could possibly substitute what he was feeling deep inside.
As he took his opposite hand to his right wrist and clutched at it, trying to will away the searing, repetitive throbbing, he spun around again, his back glued to the door. A tear soaked cry of unimaginable mourning broke loudly through his mouth, and his nose as he slid down the cold door, all the way to the floor.
And with his head between his knees, and his legs curled into his chest, and his heart broken into a million pieces on the ground all around him, Huey's body silently wracked with a thousand more inconsolable sobs.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Huey tumbled back only to be looking into Louie's intense stare.
And he looked pissed.
ooo
Let's get this story over with :)
—Jordan