Frank Castle: The One Who Saved Me

Part 1. Coming Back

New York had never felt like a strange city to Avery.
Once, it had been home.

She was born here and spent the first ten years of her life here. This was where she learned to ride a bike, started school, made her first friends, and learned what it was like to fall asleep to the constant hum of a city that never seemed to quiet down.

Then everything changed. When Avery was ten, she left with her mother. A different state. A different house. A different life. She rarely thought about that time in much detail. Some memories had gotten blurrier over the years, while others had stayed painfully clear. But she'd never forget New York. Sometimes, she felt like she remembered this city better than the place where she'd spent most of her life.

So when Avery came back sixteen years later, the feeling was strange. The city was familiar and completely foreign at the same time. The same streets. The same traffic. The smell of coffee drifting out of little shops, the cabs, the people constantly rushing somewhere. But now, everything looked different. When she was a kid, New York had seemed enormous. Now it seemed even bigger.

Avery hadn't come back for the past. At least, that's what she'd been telling herself for the last few months.

She just wanted a fresh start. A new job. A new apartment. New people. New life. No old mistakes. No having to explain her past every time someone asked a few too many questions.

Avery had never liked talking about herself too much.
Not because she had something to hide. She'd just got used to keeping things to herself. At first, she could come across as quiet and a little reserved. She wasn't the kind of person who struck up conversations with complete strangers or tried to be the center of attention.

But people close to her knew she was different. Avery could laugh until she cried, spend hours talking about the most random things, and sometimes make such impulsive decisions that even she had no idea what she'd been thinking afterward. She was stubborn. Sometimes way too much. Once Avery made up her mind about something, almost nothing could change it.

She loved music, old movies, books, and long walks. But more than anything, she loved dogs. Maybe that's why Abby had ended up in her life a few years ago. Avery had found her at a shelter when she was still a puppy. She'd gone there with absolutely no intention of getting a dog. She was just going to look. At least, that's what she'd told herself. Two hours later, Avery walked out of the shelter with a new member of the family. They'd barely spent a day apart since. Abby was her constant companion, especially now that Avery was having to get used to life in a huge city all over again.

In New York, she found a job as a barista at a small neighborhood coffee shop. It wasn't the easiest job in the world, but Avery liked it. She liked coming in early, opening the shop, and watching the city slowly wake up. She liked getting to know the regulars and remembering who ordered a double espresso, who wanted an almond-milk latte, and who came in every Tuesday for the same croissant.

Sometimes, by the end of her shift, her feet hurt so badly she could barely feel them. But she still went home feeling like she'd actually done something with her day.

Her apartment was small. Too small for New York, if to be honest. It was a one-bedroom in an old building. A tiny kitchen, a living room that doubled as a bedroom, a bathroom, and one window overlooking the building next door and a small piece of the street. The wallpaper was far from perfect in a few places. And the neighbors upstairs occasionally threw parties loud enough to make it sound like they lived in a nightclub instead of an apartment.

But it was hers. Her own place. And after sixteen years of living behind someone else's walls, Avery was willing to forgive the apartment just about anything.