The Broken City

Epilogue

It had been nearly a year since Carla had died. Frank still hated himself for not protecting her. He avoided seeing Red as much as possible. He'd only seen him once since her death and it was brief from a building over. Frank usually kept the deaths of those he couldn't save at arms length. His way of protecting himself. But that night, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He made his way to her old building. He looked up to her windows and saw no light. He took a deep breath before opening the front door. The last time he had done this was the night she died. He bit back the emotion he felt bubbling up from his gut. He walked slowly up the stairs to her floor. He pushed the stairway door open and walked the familiar hallway to her apartment door. He knocked, but there was no answer. He hesitated before turning the door knob. It was unlocked. He pushed the door open slowly. The light from the hallway flooded the dark apartment. All her things were still there. Frank thought that was odd but maybe the landlord wasn't sure what to do with her things or was using it as a touring apartment. He closed the door behind him before turning the light on. The bulb flickered before the filament broke and the room was dark again. After his eyes adjusted to the dark, Frank looked at the kitchen and remembered the night she had stitched his arm up. He smiled remembering her telling him that she wanted to be an actress. He walked over to the couch and touched the blanket that was on the back. He was reminded of the first night they had met. He remembered waking up with it covering him and the argument that they had. He also remembered checking her cupboards the next morning to find she wasn't lying about not having food. He almost wished he'd seen her face when she got the groceries he left for her, but, it seemed better that he hadn't. His thoughts drifted to the roof on the night they'd met. He thought about why he was so angry with her that night. It never felt right to him that he got so angry with her. But he knew the truth. The anger he felt wasn't pointed towards Carla, but himself. He saw himself in her that night. His anger was actually his own self loathing that he had projected onto her. Part of him wished he could have changed how he handled that night but he knew it was over and done with. He knew that she was gone and it was his fault. His mind raced with thoughts about how he could have save her. These ranged from killing all the men on the roof to taking the fatal bullet himself. His eyes pulled him out of his thoughts when noticed there was a photo of her on the wall. It was from her college graduation. She was in her cap and gown, smiling and holding her degree. He had never seen her so happy. He felt his guilt rise. "You shouldn't have died." he whispered while staring at the photo. He heard the creak of a floor board behind him. "What are you doing here?" A familiar voice demanded. He turned to face the person. "Carla?" 

To Be Continued
The story continues in "A Shattered Hope".