From the time we intercepted
Feels a lot like suicide
Slow and sad, grown inside us...
...
Three years. Three years had passed since that night. The night that changed everything. She never forgot the date.
Frank. Now a long time dead and gone. Except he would never really be gone. His eyes, his hot breath, his invasive hands and his vicious words. They were always with her. He was always there. Taunting her. Goading her. Raping her.
A part of her feels as though that night never had ended. She never really left.
She finds herself now, in a different flat, in a different room. But still sitting up against the door. Keeping the world out and the demons in.
It will get easier they told her, you won't feel this way forever. True enough- the bewildered and terrified woman who Frank had broken and violated that evening had moved on. Moved onto Peter, and her baby. Big mistake.
She was so numb, so fucking numb.
Carla drained the last of her wine, and reached for the vodka that she had bought especially for the occasion. Expensive stuff, she thought with a wry smile. How typical of her- always needing to splash the cash to make a good impression. Tonight being the last impression.
She remembers how much it hurt. How rough he had been. The bruises and the bite marks. The blood. She remembers sitting curled in front of the door for over an hour. Scared witless and unable to move from the pain that radiated throughout her body.
She had grown used to emotional pain over the years, she'd been hurt and let down by so many. But physical pain- being a victim was something new. Being overpowered and beaten. Incomprehensible. Being raped. Impossible.
Because she never thought that would be her. She never imagined it could possibly happen to her. She supposes that everyone feels that way.
Nobody ever expects such a thing to happen. She wonders if the pain would ever have gone away. Deep down she knows the answer. She knows that this is no way to live a life. What's more, it's not a life she wanted anymore.
She hates him. Death does not make that into a past tense. She hates him. With every fibre of her being. Bastard. She hates Peter too, she really hates him. He put her back together after Frank destroyed her, and then he did the same thing. He didn't pin her against a door, he didn't defile her and no he didn't leave her trembling on the ground. But he broke her in a way that nobody would ever be able to fix. The one man she trusted, the one man she let see beneath the make up and expensive clothes.
She can't have been good enough for him, she realises. She was too damaged maybe. Peter sought sex and affection from somebody younger, more attractive.
Tina wasn't damaged. Tina wasn't dirty.
Sometimes, at her most loathing- she doesn't blame Peter. Who wants used goods after-all.
The knife lays before her. She wants to make sure of it this time. No drunk dialling. No last goodbyes. Without hesitation, she digs deeply into her wrist.
She longs for her baby. It is a longing that she can not put into words. She doesn't discuss her with anybody, perhaps they all think she has moved on. But she holds her so close in the remaining pieces of her shattered heart. She doesn't want to talk about her with anyone, she doesn't want anyone else owning a part of her precious girl. She was her baby. She was her mum and she wants her all to herself for always. She can see her at two years old, ten, eighteen years old. So very clearly. Gorgeous, cheeky, alive.
She knows that she would have called her Hayley.
Blood is pooling around her, as her head slowly falls to the carpet. Everything has come full circle. Three years later and here she is again, a different room but still cold and alone and hurting on the floor. But not frightened. She has never felt more at peace.
She can feel ghosts circling her. She can hear their voices. Paul. Liam. Tony. Frank. Hayley. Tina. Her beautiful baby. They surround her and she knows it is close. So many ghosts. Some menacing. Some welcoming. She wonders where she will end up. Heaven or Hell.
Please, please let me be with my baby, she whispers with the last of her strength before the darkness descends.
The ghosts leave. The pain and the suffering of her life evaporates as Carla takes her last breath and her eyes close for the final time. The room is quiet, and sunlight suddenly bursts through the window as dawn arrives. The former world has passed away.
She sees them both. Hayley with her daughter cradled in her arms. She had always known that her friend would look after her little girl. Until they could all be together again. Carla runs towards them and holds them close. They had been waiting for her, they always had.
Until this day. Until the 19th of September.
Carla smiles as oblivion claims them all.
...
You shower me with lullabies
As you're walking away
Reminds me that it's killing time
On this fateful day