Fri. May 13: Burn / BANKS – You Should Know Where I'm Coming From

Karen couldn't believe what she was seeing. The flames engulfing Frank's house were licking at the structure's frame like they had a life force all their own, a destructive energy intent on obliterating everything they touched.

She was too late. This was a signal, his way of telling the world, telling her, that Frank Castle, loving father and loyal husband was gone for good, nothing but the ashes of his former life would be left after tonight.

Karen watched as the fire trucks silently made their way to the end of the street, a noticeable lack of urgency among the firefighters. They slowly unwound the hose and attached it to the hydrant on the corner. Rage boiled through her unexpectedly. They knew this was Frank Castle's home and they relished the idea of it burning to the ground.

Whipping out her tiny notebook she stomped over to the closest man, the fire reflecting ominously in her eyes. She didn''t even have to yell to be heard, the whole event strangely quiet, only crackle of the fire in the air. "So, what shall I tell the city about the length of time it takes to put out a run of the mill house fire?"

The man ignored her, lifting the slack in the hose over his shoulder and trudging toward the front of the house. Just as she was about to give up and drive away, he called out over his shoulder. "Ain't nothin' run of the mill about arson, lady! Put that in your rag!"

It's what she suspected, but she didn't want to believe it. Everything she knew about Frank had in some way come from that house. The first smile she'd ever seen on Frank's face had come from talking about things that had happened here. Karen felt her heart break a little more. That was happening a lot lately, her heart breaking in little bits, a piece here a piece there, but this seemed worse some how. It was a loss she couldn't articulate, wouldn't even try.

Turning away from the blaze she went and sat on the curb, her head dropping down into her hands. She felt like she'd failed him, tears falling silently down on her knees.

"Ma'am?"

Something brushed her shoulder, and she snapped her head up, half expecting to find Frank staring down at her, his familiar greeting still hanging in the air. It wasn't him, of course, but a young firefighter looking at her with an unsure expression. She swallowed, trying to stifle her disappointment. "Yes?"

The young man nervously held a hand out to her. "There was a man who stopped by a few minutes ago. He insisted that I give you this."

She reached out, her heart in her throat. It had to have been Frank. Who else could have set this man to shaking in his boots, a streak of sweat across his forehead unrelated to the heat of the fire. Karen reaches out to take the item.

The metal was cool against her palm. Twin dog tags both clearly stamped with 'FRANCIS CASTLE' laid cool in her hand. She clutched at them desperately, feeling suddenly protective. If this was all Frank had kept from his former life then she would guard it fiercely, hoping against hope that there would come a day when he wanted to reclaim it.

She could still hear the crackling of the fire as she walked away, the chain draped around her neck absorbing the warmth of her skin, tags resting against her chest. With each beat of her heart the tags trembled almost imperceptibly.

You ought to know where I'm coming from

How I was alone when I burnt my home

And all of the pieces were torn and thrown

You should know where I'm coming from