Carla once again found herself terrified by Peter's threatening behaviour. She didn't understand why he had suddenly snapped and was shouting abuse at her as if she was having some sort of affair. Looking up at Peter from her vulnerable position on the bed, Carla gave him a quizzical look. She wished he'd explain himself properly, rather than ranting and raving at her like he was currently.
"Who's who?" asked Carla, so innocently that it wound Peter up even more.
"Who is he?" screamed Peter like a mad man, his temples pulsing and his brow furrowing as he shouted.
Carla's eyes became teary and in them her fear was perfectly displayed but Peter didn't seem to notice. He was infuriated by her naivety, she knew what he meant and he didn't take kindly to her playing the innocent when she had clearly been with another man. Carla was scared and confused as Peter's eyes continued to bore into her with a look of utter contempt.
"I don't know what you're talking about Peter" cried Carla as she kept firm eye contact with him.
Peter's rage suddenly took over him, kneeling on the edge of the bed he lunched forward and grabbed the t-shirt at the collar, hoisting her up onto her knees and holding her in front of him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped it tightly and shook her.
"Then whose shirt is this?" he yelled in a disgusted tone, suddenly letting go and throwing her, where Carla fell back down onto the mattress.
More shocked than anything she looked up at Peter. He'd flipped over this, the smell on an old t-shirt. Carla just saw it as a complete over-reaction fuelled by none other than the large amount of alcohol her partner had consumed prior to coming to bed. Deep down she'd known that Liam's t-shirt would cause trouble but it definitely wasn't her intention.
"Liam's" she muttered sadly as she bowed her head, eye contact with an angry Peter was just to much for her right now.
Peter's expression softened suddenly and his clenched fists became unclenched at his sides. It was Liam, Carla was seeking comfort in a dead man. Peter couldn't help thinking that any sober human being right now would act differently to how he was about to react. He'd never had a problem with Carla's buried feelings for Liam before but then again he had never had to deal with them on a personal level before either.
From nowhere he convinced himself that she loved Liam more than she loved him and he felt the rage building again. His hands were itching at his sides, clenching and unclenching as he contemplated his next move. He knew what he wanted to do but couldn't so long as she avoided looking at him. She looked helpless, like a poor, scared and frightened child but she needed to learn her lesson, there was no doubt about that in Peter's mind. With the alcohol now mixed with rage thundering through his veins Peter lifted his hand just as Carla lifted her head. She was just in time to see his hand and arm swipe down and crack her right across the cheek. His arm caused the majority of the impact upon her and sent her flying back across the mattress, where she narrowly missed falling off the edge the other side.
Peter couldn't bear to look at her, his mangled mess of a girlfriend but it was entirely his fault. The poor thing looking so vulnerable and frightened again, a woman with every last bit of her confidence now knocked out of her. Turning Peter thundered out of the bedroom back in search for the bottle, he wasn't entirely satisfied by his actions towards Carla yet again. Guilt consumed him, everything his alcohol induced personality did to her, did to them, he was no better than the man who he had condemned for raping her over a year ago.
Carla was in shock, curled up and shivering in the mess of the duvet. She was relieved that Peter had left it where he had and gone from the room, she really wasn't sure she'd survive another beating. The other thing she was struggling to understand was why he had lost his rag over the mention of Liam. Peter had always been good helping her with her past, so understanding about what Liam had meant and the impact he had made on her life so she was struggling with the concept of him being jealous of him. Liam was dead, a term she struggled regularly even now to comprehend but he was of no threat or competition to Peter. They both meant very different things to her and she needed him to accept that.
Closing her eyes she let the first tear fall and run onto the bed sheets. Wrapping her arms around her stomach she self soothed and continued to comfort herself, pretending that her own arms were those of Liam's and he was there keeping her safe. Her cheek stung where Peter had made contact and she wished it didn't feel so hot and uncomfortable, it was slowly bruising so would be a wonderful addition to her already vast collection.
Beginning to whimper gently Carla let her emotion consume her and broke down slowly starting to sob more and more uncontrollably with every second that passed. She wished life was better now, things had been so good a year ago and since all the fighting and drama in Peter's life had kicked off things had got far, far worse than she had ever imagined. She just wished she had her old Peter back. In the silence of the bedroom she listened disheartened by the sound of Peter once again turning to the bottle.