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[center][i][b]Home Is Where The War Is- Chapter 1: The Frayed Woman[/b][/i][/center]

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"True! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them.-The Tell-Tale Heart, by Edgar Allan Poe [/i][/center]

September 8th, 2013
Hotel on 6th and 16th-Temporary home of Rachel Cole-Alves. 

The sounds,sights, smells, all of it-All of it!-she could sense. Every click of the doorknobs, every beep of the key carded doors, every horn honked in the close-by street. She could hear everything; simultaneously, it was as if the sensations all fell on someone deaf, blind and unable to smell. Simply put, she felt as if she were trapped in some horrible loop, some awful nightmare. Part of her hoped-rather futilely-that it was all some sort of dream. 

But the empty cold on the other side of the bed, the empty air she unconsciously grabbed as if to hold on to HIS hand, the almost unbearable loneliness she felt told her otherwise. It was not a dream, it was her life. And without Daniel Alves, it was not a life Rachel wanted to live-not a [i]world[/i] she wanted to live in. Nervousness hounded her every waking moment, frayed nerves fearing that which she did not previously fear. Every dark alley, every possible mugging site all sent her into a nervous breakdown now.

 It was ironic, really. She had fought in three tours overseas, facing down her country's enemies without a second thought as to her own safety, only to break down in an alleyway of New York City. Now, here she stood at the entrance to her hotel room, pulse racing, wearing Daniel's wedding band around her neck. Her hands shook as she swiped her card. "Sonofa-." She hissed. Rachel sighed and for the 616th time that day fingered the wedding band slung around her neck. She opened the door, surprised to see a man sitting there, 

He was tall, approximately six foot two, to her eye, and had dark hair. His ensemble was tactical, black long sleeves rolled up to forearm, black cargo pants, combat boots, black gloves. Blue eyes looked at her. That wasn't what startled her. What startled her was the bulletproof vest sitting between his boots, with its spray painted skull. 

"Hello, Rachel. My name is Frank Castle."