Bang! Bang! Bang!
Why won't they stop?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
She silently willed the banging to stop. For whoever was banging on the front door to leave her alone. Or was that her heart that was banging? Slamming against her ribcage in a steady rhythm. Even her internal organs had turned against her and were desperately trying to escape her body.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It didn't stop. The door. Her heart. Her head. Oh god, her head. Was it her head? It must be her head. There was so much noise outside. Or was it inside? She couldn't tell anymore. She couldn't bear it.
"Shut up!" the guttural scream flew from the depths of her soul out of her mouth and echoed about the room. What was she screaming at? She didn't know. But it worked. Silence descended. She held her breath; listening.
The silence was almost as unbearable as that interminable banging. She pressed her cheek against the cheap hollow-core door, the ancient chipped paintwork like sandpaper against her smooth skin. She strained to hear what was happening outside, but the silence refused to give up its secrets.
She wished the banging would start again. Not knowing what was happening was definitely worse than that banging. The banging terrified her. But this silence chilled her to her core.
Her breaths began to quicken as the fear took a physical hold on her body. Panting now, she gasped for air, her throat tightened as if a pair of invisible hands had gripped her throat, slowly squeezing the life out of her. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, to stop the animal-like sounds that were now emanating from within her. She couldn't let her body betray her to her enemies, to her pursuers, to those who wished her harm.
But the panic took control; her chest heaved as she gulped air into her lungs with ever-increasing desperation; as if she was drowning in mid-air. This was it; she knew this was it. They would hear her; they would find her; and they would –
She sprang into action. Leaping to the corner of the room, she took hold of the single mattress that lay on the floor. She threw off the stained coverless pillow and threadbare blanket, and dragged the mattress to the door. Standing it on its side against the door, she sat on the floor with her back pressed against the mattress. Her fortification now in place, she wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling her knees up to her chest. Rocking gently, the tears ran unchecked down her face as she sobbed, anticipating the attack she knew was imminent.
Bang! She felt the force of the blow against the door through the mattress. She knew she had to stay calm, she had to hold her ground. She knew her life depended on it. She also knew that whoever was out there, whoever was out to get her, would not give up easily.
She was right. The banging continued and it wasn't long before the fragile door splintered and a cloud of dust and wood fragments rained down onto her head.
In one swift movement, she leapt from her barricade position to the far corner of the room, curling herself into the smallest shape she could, willing herself to disappear. She lowered her head to her knees, wrapping her hands around it, protecting herself from her enemies.
Peter stood in the frame of the shattered door; his breathing shallow after his exertions; his hands bloodied from the splintered wood.
He looked with pity at the creature in the corner of the room. Because that is what she reminded him of; a frightened animal, scared, cowering in the shadows like an abused puppy.
But this was no scared animal, this was the woman he loved. The woman he would always love. And the woman he'd hurt and let down so many times. At that moment, he swore to himself, to the universe, to any gods that might be listening, that he would never let her down again. That, even if it cost him his life, he would protect her; he would save her.
Seeing what they had driven her to, what he had driven her to, very nearly broke his heart. A tear slipped quietly down his cheek.
"Carla," ever so gently he whispered his soulmate's name. There was no response, just a deepening of the silence.
He took a small, tentative step towards her. He could see her body become tense, rigid, expectant. He paused, not daring to approach any further without some kind of signal.
"Sweetheart? Carla?"
Her head lifted from her knees just a fraction. She was listening.
"Baby, I've come to take you home."
That voice. She didn't understand. That voice coming from this person, this monster, who was here to hurt her. He was here to hurt her. Right? But that voice. There was something familiar about that voice; something strangely comforting.
"It's a trick."
Was it a trick?
"He's here to hurt you. He wants to kill you."
But that voice. He would never…
"Trust me only. He is your enemy."
She needed to think. If only that voice would stop so she could think. Not his voice. The other voice. That voice. The voice that spoke the truth. The only voice she trusted. Or did she? Hearing his voice just now she wasn't so sure.
"He doesn't love you. He's addicted to you."
Doubts began swirling in her mind; around and around her mind; spinning faster and faster, out of control. She felt sick, she was gonna vomit.
"Do it! Do it now! Before he does it to you!"
Peter thought it was safe to take another step; she hadn't moved in a while; that must be a positive sign. Another step. He began to crouch down, to get down to her level, to show he was no threat to her.
Without warning, she jumped to her feet and launched herself at him, attacking him, clawing at his face like a wild animal.
He grabbed her arms and held them to her body. She was only a small woman, but her strength in this moment of sheer terror shocked him. It took all of his strength to restrain her from injuring either or both of them.
He wrapped his arms around her, his embrace both restraining her and comforting her. She fought against him, she was fighting for her life. This was it; it was him or her. Only one could survive.
But he wouldn't let go. As one arm held her tight, the other began to gently stroke her back. She wanted to fight, but her body had no fight left. With a sigh, she collapsed in his arms and they sank to the ground together, a tangle of limbs, never separating for one moment.
Held tight against his chest, she breathed him in. That scent, so familiar, so warm. What was it about this man? Her mind scrambled to understand. What was it? What did he feel like? Then she knew; he felt like home. She pressed into him; she didn't know why, she just knew instinctively that she wanted, no, she needed, to be close to him. To be a part of him. For him to be a part of her.
Suddenly she wanted to hear his voice again. To feel the vibrations deep in his chest as he spoke to her in those low calming tones.
"Say something. Please?"
"What was that, sweetheart?"
"Talk to me."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything. I don't care."
"Okay. How about I love you? Is that okay?"
A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as she nodded into her chest.
"Okay then. I love you. And I'm never letting you go again. Never, Carla, never."
Peter felt the dampness of her tears soak through his shirt; he pulled her into him even closer, one arm wrapped tight around her, the other stroking her hair.
Carla didn't quite understand what was happening. But one thing she was sure of was that she felt safe with this man. She clung onto him; with everything she had she listened to the words that he was whispering in her ear; the words that were slowly drowning out that other voice. It was still screaming at her; screaming those lies of fear and betrayal. But those screams had become muffled and distant. For now, that was good enough for her.