A/N Just a little something I found lurking on my computer. I think I was planning on making it longer one day, but I never got round to it, and I figured I might as well post it now. Set when Peter had gone missing and it was suspected that he was dead. Hope you like it, despite it being so short!
Peter Barlow.
It wouldn't look right on a dull grey gravestone. In Peter's own words - like Carla's vase, and her picture frame, and her herself in Peter's flat - it was just wrong.
Everyone said he wouldn't do it; that it's not the sort of thing he'd do. But it wasn't the sort of thing she'd do. Carla, more than anyone, understood that, no matter how strong you are, emotions can take over and cloud your judgement. You can't see a future, because you have ruined every last minute that is left of your life, and so you decide not to prolong the agony. Leaving this world seems the easy way out. She knows how it feels, and it scares her that he might know now too.
Difference was, when she was the one on the brink of death she'd had Peter to support her. But now, even if he called again like she had, she wouldn't be able to help him. She didn't know where he was. She'd given up on him when he needed her most, and even if nothing had happened to him she would never forgive herself for that. Their relationship was supposed to be built on trust and support, but she had just left him distraught and alone when he clearly needed a nudge in the right direction.
It was her fault.
This was all her fault. He'd said some terrible things to her, but she'd said some horrible things too. She'd gone one step further, and walked out on their relationship – the only constant which was holding the two of them together for the past few months. It was like she had kicked away his safety crutch and left him to fall alone. She had seen him teetering on the edge, and in true Carla style she had delivered that final push. She knew he was drunk, and that it was just the booze talking, but she let her insecurities rule her heart, and she truly believed every drip of venom which had come from his mouth.
Everything was always her fault. Whatever she did, disaster always followed close behind; everything she had suffered over the years couldn't be a coincidence.
As she sat at the large dining table, situated in the middle of the living room at Number One Coronation Street, she suddenly felt so isolated. With Ken and Deirdre comforting each other on one side of the room, and Leanne and Nick holding hands on the other, she felt trapped between the two couples. She had never felt as alone as she did right now, conscious that everyone in the room blamed her for Peter's disappearance. If he had done something stupid, not only would she not forgive herself, but she knew everyone else in this room wouldn't forgive her either.