A Shattered Hope

Chapter One

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?" In his shock Frank didn't hear the hammer clicking back on the pistol that she was carrying. She lifted the gun, aiming at his face when she realized who it was. "Frank? Why are you here?" He had no answer. All he could do was stare at the woman who he thought was dead. "You turned the light on didn't you?" She pressed. Frank nodded trying to get a good look at her face. Her hair, longer than before, hung loose around her face. It obscured about three-quarters of her face. All he could see clearly was her right eye and cheek. "Shit!" She said to no one in particular. She turned quickly and headed toward the door. She stopped suddenly mid-step and spoke, "You'd better come up to the roof before the cops show up." Then she exited the apartment, leaving Frank confused, angry, and unable to move.

Moments later Frank ran up to the roof to find Carla. His mind raced with many thoughts, the biggest being how she survived. He slammed the roof door open and saw her standing at the edge of the building. He moved quickly towards her but stopped about three feet behind her. He could see that she looked different, far more toned and seemed to have more muscle mass. There were new scars on her arms. Her whole demeanor was different, she wasn't the same girl from the roof a year before. She was broken. "It was good to see you Frank," She said turning slightly back towards him, "I'm glad to see you're not actually dead." Frank could see part of her mouth through her hair, there appeared to be a small smile. "Goodbye Frank." A loud noise grabbed Frank's attention behind him. It was a car backfiring on the street. Frank whipped back around to where Carla was but she was gone. He checked the street below and saw nothing. There was nothing to indicate where she had gone to or how she got there. Frank wondered if he had ever seen her at all. If the head injury he had suffered was beginning to make him hallucinate. But he swore that she was real. Her weight had made the floor board creak, something he did not remember happening a year ago. She turned the door knob and opened the door, she did not pass through it. He could also smell her, it wasn't the same as it was a year ago. Frank told himself that it was really her. She was alive and in New York again. He felt this overwhelming need to talk to Red about this. He needed to know what happened after he left the roof that night. He needed to know if she really died.