Wow, thank you for all the lovely reviews! They pleasantly surprised me!
I found the second part a lot harder to write, I'm not really that pleased with it, and know I could do better but I seriously needed to update it and right now my mind's not functioning, so there will be a third part.
Within an instant, his anger subsides and his fists unclench, fanning out and reaching towards her. He immediately regrets getting so wound up. As he steps towards her, cautiously this time he's pained to see her flinch and press her back even closer to the wall, her hands a visibly shaking as she clutches at her knees, her body hunched in a foetal manner.
It was a combination of body language and the speed at which he turned that teased the ghastly memory from the corners of her unconscious. As his body spun round, moving towards her with such a force it hit her like a smack in the face – hard and unforgiving. It was though for those few seconds her body detached itself from her mind.
She could see Frank, clear as day in front of her, his face cool, his expression nonchalant, but his eyes were so alive, so full of rage and passion. He was still, unnervingly so. And then like a predator ambushing their chosen prey, he exploded, the jealousy he felt cascading out his body through brute force and filthy insults.
'You fucking slut, you fucking little slut' he spat, his voice slightly raised, and yet possessing an alarming essence of peace to it, as his hands pummelled her stomach over and over before descending to her thighs and hungrily tearing them apart; preparing to mark his territory once more.
She'd blocked it out her mind, not allowing herself to go back there, and she'd succeeded thus far, but now she was back there, living, breathing that nasty hour all over again.
Suspended in oblivion, she sat shaking, her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as her memories punished her.
'Carla, oh god, Carla I'm so sorry' Peter said, easing towards her, his hands in front of him to reassure her it was him and not the monster he'd reminded her of. He felt a devastating surge of guilt course through every vein in body, his blood saturated with regret.
She didn't reply, instead, she closed her eyes, her chin resting on her knees as she tried to refocus, thinking back to what her councillor had said when thinks had gotten on top of her and she'd been living in constant fear of a flashback. She drew out the air in her lungs, exhaling; the thud of her head reverberating through her body.
'Carla, please, it's me, I didn't mean to scare you, god I wasn't going to hurt you, I wouldn't, you've got to believe me' he said, his eyes coated in a film of tears, as it dawned on him just how severe the consequences of his actions could be.
Trust. It had taken sheer patience, time and caution to reach the level of understanding they now shared with one an other, or had done. The rape had left a women, her body beaten and abused, exposed to the elements; a helpless infant left to fend for itself. The foundations of their relationship were always going to be strained, given their mutual dependency on alcohol, the world that surrounded them, but it was Frank's violation that really weakened the cracks, and now in one fowl, unintentional swoop Peter had ripped the mortar from within them, their world crashing to the ground, the trust no longer there.
'Don't come near me' she whispered, the same words she'd uttered just days after her rape when he'd visited her at Maria's. It had hurt then, being rejected, but he'd understood, she was scared, wounded, like a child she needed to learn, learn to trust again. Only this time it was worse. He'd been the one to teach her, to gain her trust and coax her out of her shell, to show her that it was possibly to loved once more.
He crouched down in front of her, half a meter away or so, looking up as he tried to regain some composure. Tentatively he reached forward, his fingertip just brushing the base of her chin, before sliding beneath it and very slowly bringing her eye's to meet his. Her eye's were wet, her eyelashes damp and clumped together in an uneven fashion, her top lip quivered, a solitary tear clinging to the depression of her philtrum.
She allowed herself to pause and look into his eyes, apologetic pools that offered nothing but love. His finger was reassuringly stroking the skin beneath her chin, the repetitive motion bringing her breathing back to a normal rhythm.
He gave her a slightly uneasy smile, 'There, you see, it's okay, it's okay' he said, his voice low, an air of persuasion lingering in it's tone. Though this time she didn't flinch or pull away as he brought his body closer to hers and positioned himself beside her, the stagnancy of her pose said enough.
'I'd never do what he did to you' Peter whispers, feeling a regretful need to ensure her that his intentions weren't violent. He reached somewhat forcefully for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, their palms pressed tightly together.
a huge mistake.
