Rated M for swear words and references to rape/ sex.
This chapter is set on the 19th September 2011 - when Frank Raped Carla, but will not follow exactly the same SL as the show.
I don't own any characters.
'I trust you, I opened up to you like I never had with any other other woman... and you.. you were using me' Frank said through gritted teeth, stuttering slightly, as he said the words.
'No I wasn't' Carla said, tears racing down her cheeks, her eyelashes sticking together as she blinked away the twars.
'You were using me to make your boyfriend jealous, a smokescreen, for your sordid little affair' Frank said, his voice rising, his anger becoming more evident.
'It's not true' Carla said, feeling deflated/
'And now you think you can just chuck me away, job done' Frank shouted. Swinging his arm aggressively in the air.
'Okay, I want you to go - now' Carla said, feeling a mixture of guilt, anger, pain, fear.
She walked to the door, with an aggressive stride, her body relaxing momentarily as she leaned her weight against the door, before pulling the latch to open it.
But she didn't get the chance.
She hadn't seen the look in his eyes. His face frozen, eyes wide, but certainly not silent. The range inside him taking over. Leaving him still for a brief moment, before it took over him and worked its way into the physical.
He should have left, he should have stormed out the door. She should have sat down, collapsed onto the couch, tears grasping the mascara from her lashes and racking them down her cheeks. A cold glass of wine in her hand, downed to numb her feelings - guilt, anger, jealously ranging against each other. She should have woken up, ashamed. Walked into underworld, embarrassed. Plucked up the courage to tell everyone her wedding was off.
But she didn't get the chance.
His force was immense. And unexpected. No sooner had she pulled the latch, his hand was over hers, then tightening around her wrist. Then pulling her round sharply. Her breath was taken from her. Her hair lashing round her as his force takes over. She is pinned to the door, his grasp ever tightening. He slams her again, against the door, her head jerking back and smacking the wood behind her. She doesn't have time to wince.
She doesn't get the chance.
He presses her closer to the door. For a minute he stands there. Overbearing. Looking her straight in the eyes. Beads of sweat have formed on her neck and forehead and anxiety rushes through her body. Her cheeks are moist from the tears she has shed. She tried to wriggle free, but as she does so he glances down. Glances down at her leg. He looks at her again for a moment. She feels herself tense, as he moves his hand away from her wrist, using his elbow to hold it in place.
She shivers as his cold hand snakes down her skirt, reaching her lower thigh. Suddenly he grabs her, pinching her skin as he works his hand beneath her skirt and up her legs. She thinks to herself, why is she letting him do this to her. But something, something she can't explain has taken over her. Paralyzed her.
Fear.
She feels helpless. Lonely even. She wants to fight back. She wants to scream. She wants to slap him hard across the face and tell him to do one.
But she doesn't get the chance.
She feels sick. She feels his hand creep silently up her groin. Feeling her. Groping her. Prodding her. She feels like a voodoo doll, at Franks mercy. His slimy hand strokes her breast.
No. Not stroke - that implies some tenderness.
His hand fumbles with her shirt and she flinches as his cold skin touches hers.
Before she knows it he he is unzipping his trousers. Another wave of nausea hits her as she watches him seemingly control her body. She is trapped inside unable to voice her fear and pain. His hands are round her waist and he slams her to the floor.
Does she black out for a second? She doesn't know. Before she knows it he is on top of her, aggressively moving against her, pinning her wrist to her side so she can't protect. He other arm, and the force of his weight pressing against her thighs so she can't move away. He doesn't look happy. He is angry. And getting angrier - by the feel of it. It hurts. It's sore. It's vile.
She shivers against the cold floor. She can't hear what he is saying. He is spitting aggressive words at her, gripping her wrists and arms and thighs. She closes her eyes. Waiting.
Waiting and waiting.
And then it stops. It isn't a relief. The pain doesn't go away. Her body aches. She feels a stinging pain, caused by his brutal entry.
She curls up, moving away from him as he stands, doing up his zip.
Caught up in this house
Trapped my very own self in the snare of my mind
No more space than a slither
What I'd give for deep breath inside
Where the chaos has me captive
Where there's no exit sign
Where I fuel the stupid fire with these feelings of mine
Lured into this den
It's bitter and I want the sweetness again
A taste that I agree with
Get me past these perils and to my Eden
Where the silence is a comfort
Where there is no one else
Where I'll be up from under and can uncurl myself.
He is panting, shallow breathes.
'It's your fault, you made me do it. He says. Craning forward slightly.
'Carla' he says, almost curiously. As his body moves closer to hers she flinches, in her fetal position she curls away from him.
And then he bolts. He leaves. Without a second thought, she uses her remaining strength to reach for the bolt and lock the door.
And then she slides down the door, her energy gone. Her body abused. Stolen from her. She sinks to the floor, pulling her legs against her chest. It hurts as she does it, but she wants to gather herself up, hid away.