Written by Sara K.

A/N: Oh look another Frank Castle fic (ONE SHOT)

WARNINGS: Language, drinking, suicidal/sexual assault triggers

BANG BANG BANG

Three men dropped to the concrete.

Echoes of a fourth perpetrator's footsteps came from down the alleyway.

He was trying to make a run for it.

Frank flashed a smirk.

In one smooth motion, he slid out the empty magazine, dropping it to the ground before reloading the glock. The satisfying two clicks of the slide connecting back with the chamber confirmed to Frank the weapon was cocked and ready.

His heavy boots thumped against the cement as he followed the path of the other man. He pulled the gun to chest level and wrapped his other hand around the bottom of the grip. Frank's eyes pierced ahead, looking into the darkness.

Finally, he made out his target.

Before Frank could act, the man slipped into a doorway to one of the buildings, slamming the large door behind him.

Frank picked up his pace and pointing the muzzle forwards. He reached the door. Swinging it open, Frank jumped inside, his finger tightly wrapped around the trigger with his aim stretched ahead of him.

He froze.

This wasn't a building.

It was his home.

Frank's eyes darted around the space.

It was daytime now. The building he had jumped into transformed into his suburban house. It was warm and bright. The front door sat behind him and photos lined the walls.

It was home.

He felt his breathing grow sharp. A panic started to well inside him. He followed his sight at each aspect of his house with the muzzle of his gun, refusing to believe he was safe.

"Dad you're SCARING ME!"

Frank whipped around to the staircase.

Sitting on the bottom step was a trembling Lisa and Frank Jr.

He could feel his heart drop in his chest. Their eyes are focused on him, arms wrapped around each other. They're horrified. The gun is still pointed in their direction. He's frozen. He can't pull it away.

"Dad PLEASE!" Lisa cried.

Tears are streaming down their faces. Frank can feel his arm start to tremble as the gun shakes in his hand. He blinks a few times before gathering all his strength, prying his hand from the grip.

The pistol clatters to the ground.

"Hey hey hey..." Frank turns back to his children with his hands outstretched. His empty palms facing them. "It's alright..." His voice cracking at the edges. "I'd...I'd never hurt you...I'd never- God- I'd never hurt either of you..."

"But you did Frank."

Frank's gaze shifted to the side of the staircase.

Maria.

"You killed them."

His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her.

"You killed me too."

She took a few steps closer to him, blocking his view of the kids. Frank was speechless, he didn't know what to do or what to say.

She stood there staring at him dead in the eye. The moment dragged on for a while before-

SLAP

She threw her hand across his face. He stumbled for a second before placing his hand over his cheek and turning back to her.

"You killed our children Frank." Tears began to fall from her eyes. "OUR CHILDREN."

Frank swallowed. He shook his head. "I-I-I didn't-"

"You killed me." She interrupted. "You killed us all. Didn't we mean anything to you?"

His eyes became watery. The answer was everything. They meant everything to him.

"Why didn't you protect us Dad?"

Frank looked over Maria's shoulder to see Lia standing on the step, starring back at him.

"Why did you let them hurt us?" Frank Jr. followed.

Frank opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Didn't you love us?"

Frank turned back to Maria. His eyes widened at the sight. Blood began to drip down the side of her face.

"It hurt a lot Dad."

Frank gasped and covered his mouth as blood began to drip down their faces too.

"Murder." Maria whispered.

"Killer." Frank Jr. took a step closer.

Lisa walked up beside him.

"Monster."

Frank stumbled backwards as they grew closer to him, blood was pouring from their hairline.

"YOU KILLED US!" They screamed. They screamed it over and over as they grew closer and closer.

Frank pressed his back against the front door. His horrified gaze shifted from voice to voice. His hands tightly gripped around his ears as he slid down to the floor.

He snapped his eyes shut.

A train horn.

Frank opened his eyes.

He was laying on a floor. Not the floor of his house but somewhere else. The smell of alcohol and gun powder filled the room. It was night again. The real world, the waking world, that's where he was.

Frank grunted as he rolled onto his side. He must've passed out cause he was still fully dressed; jacket, boots, and all. He pressed his right cheek against the cold floor. Street lamps illuminated the space from a narrow window. A run down motel; he had decided to camp out here.

His right hand wrapped around his waist while his left laid in front of him. Frank's gaze fell on the golden band that sat around his ring finger. He tilted his head as he let out a shaky breath. A moment dragged on before he slipped off the ring with his thumb. He fidgeted with the golden object for a second before placing it on the floor beside him. Frank let out another harsh sigh before putting his index finger inside of it and sliding it across the room under the bed.

Frank laid there for a while; he wasn't sure how long; just stayed lost in his own head.

Finally, he rolled back onto his stomach. Using his forearms, he shifted his body up into a sitting position. Frank pressed his back against the wall and pulled his knees close to him; resting his elbows on them before letting out a huff. He tilted his head up against the wall and closed his eyes.

He opened them again when flashes of light came from the window. Another train horn blew outside along with the rhythmic clicking of the tracks. Frank stayed still, watching the train beside the motel room pass.

Then it was silent again.

The distraction gone now and the deafening silence filled the room.

Frank wiped his nose with his sleeve and looked at the floor. He reached over towards a half empty whiskey bottle that laid on its side. He picked it up by the neck and drank it. Chugging it down, doing his best to numb himself.

When the bottle was empty, he dropped it back to the ground. The glass clattered on the floorboards, breaking the lonely quite for a moment.

He sighed again, pressing the palms of his hands against his eye lids.

The pain in his chest always ached no matter how much he drank or how much evil he put down. A pain that's not physical. Something he can't just stitch back together. A pain that lives with you. Grows with you. Becomes you.

Tonight it was burning a hole inside him.

Frank held the bridge of his nose. He squinted his eyes as tightly as he could before letting go. With both hands, he wiped down his face and rubbed the back of his head.

His eyes fell back to the floor when he saw it.

The pistol.

He stared at it for a few seconds before letting go and reaching over. He picked it up delicately, like it was a wounded bird. Frank placed the two hands he held it with in his lap. He ran his thumb over the slide as he stared at the weapon. His jaw tightened while his eyes stayed focused. He flipped the gun over and pulled out the magazine. Frank pressed his index finger on the cartridge, pushing the bullet down.

He scoffed.

One bullet.

Like this is what it was meant for.

Frank looked back up to the ceiling and sighed.

"What about you, Frank? What happens the day someone decides you deserve it?"

"I'll tell you what, they better not miss!"

He nodded to himself.

He wouldn't miss.

Quickly, Frank slide the magazine back in and pulled back the slide. He raised the cocked gun to the temple of his head, pressing the muzzle against his skin.

He slowly moved a finger to the trigger. Blinking his eyes tightly, Frank took in ragged drawn out breaths. His shoulders were trembling as he did. Doing what he could to keep himself still.

Finally, he was ready.

He closed his eyes.

Dropped his shoulders.

Held his breath.

He was going to squeeze the trigger.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Frank's eyes snapped open.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

A woman.

A woman outside. She must've been in the alleyway by the train tracks. She was screaming. She wouldn't stop screaming.

Frank stared at the window, his gun still to his head. He couldn't stay. He couldn't.

"GET OFF OF ME!" She screamed again.

Frank dropped the gun from his temple and stumbled to his feet. Swinging open the door of his room, he walked out into the night air.

His heavy boots thumped against the cement as he marched towards the screams. He made his way to the alleyway and turned the corner. He planted his feet a few steps inside.

The woman was against the brick wall.

She was pretty.

She had brown shorter hair. Her mascara dripped down her cheeks as she screamed and cried. Her shirt had almost been ripped off completely.

A man stood in front of her, pinning her there. She tried to fight against him but he held her with ease. He had a blade to her throat.

"If you don't cooperate bitch, I'll kill you quicker." He laughed.

"P-Please don't..." She weeped. Her hysterical blubbering echoing down the alleyway.

"Please-"

BAM

The man's body thudded against the concrete.

The woman gasped and held her hands over her mouth. She turned around to see Frank. He stood with his gun outstretched. His face expressionless.

His gaze slowly turned to the woman. He put the gun down and took a step closer. She jumped backwards. He stopped.

Frank held the gun up so she could see.

"It's empty."

She stayed trembling.

He sighed and tossed the weapon to the ground. Holding out his empty hands, Frank moved a little closer, this time she didn't back away.

Frank stopped a few feet away from her. Slowly, he slipped off his jacket and held it out to her.

She stayed frozen.

"Take it." He nodded. "Please."

Her eyes shifted between him and the jacket for a moment before she reached out and took it. She wrapped it around her exposed body and held herself tightly.

Frank looked her over for a moment before he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a few crumpled fives. He flattened them out in the palm of his hand before handing them to her.

"Take this too."

She stared at him for another moment before taking the money.

"Now call the police." He instructed. "Tell them what happened, hang up, call a cab and go home."

She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. Taking in a shaky breath, she nodded.

Frank let out a sigh and nodded back. He then turned around without another word and walked out of the alleyway.

She stepped up behind him.

"Hey you saved my life!"

He froze.

"Thank you."

Frank didn't turn around. He felt his hand tremble at his side. He gave a curt nod before quickly walking back to his room.

He shut the door behind him. Leaning against the wooden frame, heaving an exhausted sigh. A silence again.

Frank's head perked up at the sound of police sirens in the distance. He shook his head, making his way over to the duffle bag that sat on the bed. Quickly, he began to pack his things: a laptop, the few pistols not loaded in his van, couple of T-shirts, pants, a spare jacket, boxes of ammunition, a Bowie knife and a journal.

Once everything had been shoved into place, he threw the bag over his shoulder and rushed to the door.

He stopped.

His hand almost around the handle.

But he stopped.

Why did he stop?

He was missing something.

Something important.

Something he couldn't leave.

Frank turned back to the bed. Slowly, he walked up to it's edge. The floorboards creaked underneath him as he bent down on his knees. Frank reached under and patted the floor for a moment before his hand rested on the object. Gently, Frank lifted the ring out from under the bed. He held it in the palm of his hand, his eyes fixated on the small item.

He couldn't leave it.

Taking in a deep breath, Frank slid the ring into his back pocket.

Maybe one day, when he could forgive himself.

One day...maybe...he could wear it again.