Chapter 1: Lost Soul

“Here,” the man said hanging his small metal crucifix over her neck. “You need this more than I do.”

Caroline laughed softly as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Do I? You never go out without it."

"Yeah well... I'm not the one under depression today." He replied.

"What do you expect? I lost my job."

He shrugged. "You said you always wanted to open your very own bookshop. Why don't you do it now?"

She laughed again this time harder. "What? You think it's that easy...?"

"I have faith in you sist."

She smiled knowing he met his words but not entirely convinced that his belief was strong enough to encourage her.

He kissed her cheek. "I have to go. I'll come by tomorrow but if you need anything... just call away. I don't care of it five in the morning."

"Ok." She whispered. "I'll see you."

He walked through her apartment’s door.

"Caroline. Carly?"

She awoke from her day dream remembering that even though she was in her apartment, she was no longer with her brother. "Sorry, Mrs. Hastings."

The old lady, who lived in the apartment below her and owned the entire duplex building, sat now before her. They had both just finished a cup of coffee. "Are you ok?"

Caroline took a deep breath and looked down. "I..."

"Oh God silly me, love... I shouldn't have asked that."

"Don't worry about it."

Mrs. Hastings smiled sympathetically. "It's not easy loosing someone you love. Take it from an old lady. I hardly have any living friends anymore; except for you of course and you’re too young to understand half the things I talk about.”

Caroline smiled appreciating the old ladies attempt to change the night’s mood. Yet, they both knew that nothing could alter the past. For a minute they both fell silent.

Once again, the old lady was the first to speak. “I'm really going to miss Jason. He used to say hello every time he saw me and would just stop to talk and talk, before going up to your apartment."

Caroline remembered her talkative brother. “Yeah… that was Jason all right.” Feeling a knot in her throat she looked down and closed her eyes, trying to hold back her tears. She didn’t want Mrs. Hastings to try to comfort her again.

“Carly?”

Carly exhaled and looked up. “I’m fine Mrs. Hastings. It’s getting late. Maybe you should go home.”

“Why… Don’t be ridiculous! I can stay here as long as you need me.”

Caroline smiled. “Thank you Mrs. Hastings, really, you’ve been wonderful but… I think I need some rest now. It’s been… a long day.”

The old lady blinked but seemed to understand the petition. “Ok then… I guess maybe…. I should go now. I'll be downstairs if you need anything, ok?"

"Thank you Mrs. Hastings."

"Love, how many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Dora."

Carly smiled again. "All right Dora. Good night."

Caroline locked the door after the old lady had exited. She walked back to the small dining table, picked up the two empty coffee cups and went towards the sink. As she began to clean the cups, she realized that trying to do everyday chores was not reliving her. She dropped a cup in the sink and began to cry.

She tried to walk to the kitchen but found herself unable to do so. Before she could get to the living room, she felt her legs weaken and fell down to the floor wrapping her arms around her legs trying to contain the pain that the sobs brought her.

Only last night… Only last night had Jason been there with her and now he was gone. He had been found in a dark alley. His cause of death was still under investigation but the police was certain that he had been murdered. Yet, many were still puzzled about the present autopsy results: whoever killed her brother had somehow "pumped out" – as one investigator described - all his blood through two holes in his neck. Doctors, however, did not know what had made the holes.

There was a knock in her door. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, her sobbing was uncontrolled. She didn’t want to go to the door. Whoever it was, he would have to wait.

There was another knock. She looked up to the door this time, but still didn’t get up.

“Carly?” She heard a male voice call.

She was unsure whose voice it was. Then she heard it again and recognized the man. “Carly? I know you’re in there so open up. Come on, Carly… I know you hate my guts but… I would really like to talk to you now.”

She sat on the floor unmoving. Her sobs had ceased but tears still rolled down her eyes. She understood the man’s words and the meaning behind them but her mind had gone blank. All she knew was that she didn’t hate him -not in the way he thought anyway – but, either way, she didn’t feel like moving, not now.

After a moment of silence, the voice came again. “Carly? Are you ok?” He sounded a bit frightened now. “Carly!” His knock became desperate.

“Go away!” She finally shouted and sobs came back again.

There was a sigh of relief behind the door. “Come on… Open up, would you? Do you hate me that much?”

“This is not about you…” Her voice was raspy. Her throat felt raw.

“I know… I just need you to open the door, that’s all. I just want to talk.”

She looked up to the ceiling and forced herself to get up and walked to the door. When she opened it, she saw him. He had not changed a bit, except that his sandy blond hair was now shorter. His green eyes were still the same. He was as tall and strongly built at she remembered. His skin was still as tanned as the last time she had seen him. Yet, she knew he was different. He did not greet her with the mocking smile she remembered playing on his lips many times. There was grief written all over his face. She let out a shaky sob and allowed him to take her into his arms where she cried for what seemed like an endless amount of time. Sure, she had been mad at him many times, but this time was different.

He had not realized his reason for visiting her until he saw her. He was not there to continue their endless arguments that annoyed her brother many times. He was not there because he thought he could comfort her either. He was there because he knew she was only person who understood his pain, and whose pain perhaps even went deeper than his own. He was there because he needed to cry too and he had been unable to do so until that very moment.