"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Carla screamed, backing away from Frank – his domineering presence casting a dark shadow over her much smaller frame.
Last time they were stood here together, she'd wound up on the floor – screaming for help as his rough hands violently pried her legs apart. Carla shuddered in disgust. The memories of that night were flooding back to her now, like a reoccurring nightmare she could never fully wake up from.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to answer a question with a question?" Frank sneered obnoxiously, taking another step towards her – invading her personal space once more. "Where are you going?"
"That's none of your damn business!" She reminded him, grabbing the cordless phone off the charger. "Now, get out of here before I call the police."
"Go ahead, ring them." Frank dared her, an overly confident grin on his smug little face. "And while you're at it, why don't you fill them in on your little rendezvous with Peter Barlow?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She argued, her confidence faltering ever so slightly.
How much did he know?
"Wow. You're getting very good at lying, aren't you Carla?" Frank smiled, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I know you two are sleeping together. Probably been at it for months now, years even…"
"That's not true." She argued.
"Are you sure about that?" Frank said as he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a large envelope, spilling its contents onto the floor for her to see. "These photos seem to tell a different story."
Dozens of black and white photographs lay scattered on the hardwood floor. Some were from the day they'd spent in the park, laughing and kissing as they strolled arm in arm – completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched. Others appeared to have been taken outside her flat as she kissed Peter goodbye - or hello.
Carla couldn't help but feel violated – that was one thing Frank seemed to have a knack for.
"Have you been stalking me?" She accused, crouching down to gather up the photos.
"Of course not. I have far more important things to do with my time." Frank explained, staring down at her as though she were something he'd just stepped in. "I hired a private investigator to find proof that you really are a lying little slut."
Carla stopped what she was doing and glared up at him, blind rage causing a surge of adrenaline to course through her veins - clouding her already tainted judgement.
"You bastard!" She screamed, leaping up to slap him across the face.
"I'd watch it if I were you," Frank warned, grabbing her by the wrist to stop her from hitting him. "Wouldn't want to add assault to your list of offences."
"Get your hands off her or so help me God, I will kill you." Peter's voice interrupted their fight and Carla was beyond relieved to see him. He was stood in the doorway, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and a look of pure rage on his face.
"Well, if it isn't the booze loving Bookie come to the rescue." Frank sneered defiantly, releasing Carla's wrist and she immediately moved to go stand beside Peter. "So, Barlow. How are you enjoying my sloppy seconds?"
"Are you alright, Love? Did he hurt you?" Peter asked, completely ignoring the other man.
"I'm fine." Carla assured him, though she was visibly shaken. "Frank was just leaving."
"Looks like the two of you are the ones who are leaving." Frank observed, motioning towards their luggage. "You two lovebirds enjoy yourselves. You'll be hearing from my solicitor when you return."
"And you'll be hearing from mine," Carla shot back. "I have a protective order against you, in case you've forgotten."
"Let's just see how well this slanderous lawsuit of yours holds up in court once the jury gets a look at those photos."
"What are you on about?" Peter asked, confusion momentarily replacing his anger.
"I'll let your girlfriend fill you in." Frank grinned smugly as he walked passed them both and left the flat.
"He knows about us, Peter. He knows everything…" Carla sighed, she couldn't believe this was happening.
"I gathered that much," He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you sure he didn't hurt you? Are you really alright?"
"Of course I'm not alright!" Carla shrieked, gesturing towards the pile of evidence on the floor. "Look at these photos! Frank has all the proof he needs now to make me look like lying, cheating little cow who only cried rape to get back at her ex!"
"All these photos prove is that you and I are together now," Peter reasoned, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. A tear rolled down her cheek and he quickly wiped it away. "Our relationship has nothing to do with Frank's attack."
"But if the jury finds out that I lied about you, what's to stop them thinking I lied about being raped as well?" Carla pointed out – she looked so defeated, so completely and utterly hopeless.
"That isn't going to happen," He promised. "I'll get up there and testify myself if that's what it takes."
"You can't do that," Carla argued. "I won't let you lie under oath for me."
"I don't plan on lying," Peter declared, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "I will stand up in court and profess my undying love for you if you'd like."
"You really mean that?" Carla asked, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.
"With all my heart," He whispered, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. "Now come on, grab your things. We've got a plane to catch."
"A plane? I thought we were going to Blackpool." She questioned, grabbing her suitcase and purse.
"Change of plans." Peter revealed as he grabbed his own bag and began ushering her towards the door.
"What are you up to, Barlow?" Carla asked, a mixture of suspicion and excitement written all over her gorgeous face.
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Was all Peter would reveal, and with that they left the flat and their problems behind.
For a little while at least.