"I said let her go." Anne repeated, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. When she had followed Frank up to the old cottage, she knew he were up to something.

But she never imagined this.

"You shouldn't have come here." Frank replied, finally letting go of Carla as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Come over here, Love." Anne said quietly, motioning for Carla to come stand beside her. The poor woman looked absolutely petrified, her skin a ghostly shade of pale except for the large dark bruise around her eye.

"Are you alright?" Anne whispered as she helped Carla towards the cellar door.

"We can't let her go, mother. She'll ruin everything." Frank declared, his voice eerily calm.

"She needs a doctor." Anne reasoned, trying to appeal to any shred of decency her son still possessed.

"She needs to be taught a lesson, that's what she needs!" Frank bellowed, moving towards them abruptly. Carla cowered behind her – Anne could feel her practically shaking with fear.

"Frank, please calm down. You're frightening me." She pleaded with her son.

"Just get out of here, mother. This doesn't concern you."

"I can't do that, Frank." Anne replied, sounding much braver than she felt. Never in her entire life had she feared her own child. It was a very unnerving feeling.

When had her sweet little boy turned into this?

"Carla and I just need to talk about a few things." Frank explained, a devious smile on his face. "Isn't that right, darling?"

"Stay away from me." Carla whispered, her voice hoarse from misuse and dehydration.

"There you go again, making me out to be some kind of monster! I don't wanna hurt you."

"Looks to me like you already have." Anne said, referring to Carla's painfully black eye.

"She provoked me, mum. You know what she's like." Frank reasoned.

"Obviously I'm not a very good judge of character. I don't even know what me own son is capable of!"

"Oh, great. She's got you believing her lies now, has she?"

"Hard not to believe her now that I've seen what you're like with me own eyes." Anne replied, a look of disappointment on her face. "How could you, Frank?"

"Don't look at me like that! Like you're judging me – you're always judging me. Nothing I ever do is good enough for you!"

"You need help, Frank." Carla whispered, her voice a little louder this time.

"You shut your mouth or I'll shut it for ya!" Frank hissed as he leapt towards the pair of them. Anne moved to shield Carla with her body, trying to protect the younger woman from her enraged son.

"Sweetheart, please just calm down and we'll sort this whole mess out." Anne desperately tried to reason with him. She had never seen him act this way before – the look in his eyes was absolutely terrifying.

"I'm going to say this one more time, mother. Get out!" Frank shouted at her demandingly, his face mere inches away from her own. He was completely deranged and Anne was extremely afraid of what he might do next, but she stood her ground.

"I'm not leaving here without Carla." She argued, slowly backing up towards the cellar door – Carla's hand clasped tightly in hers.

"You stupid cow." Frank spat out bitterly as he reached out and grabbed his mother by her hair – throwing her to the ground in a violent fit of rage.

Carla screamed and watched helplessly as the older woman's head smashed against the concrete floor. Anne lay there completely motionless, a small pool of blood quickly pooling beneath her skull.

"Mother," Frank whispered, his voice tinged with pain and regret. "Wake up, mum. Please, wake up."

Carla knew that if she didn't make a run for it now, she would never leave that cellar alive.

So with Frank momentarily distracted, she ran out the door and bolted up the stairs – taking them two at a time as she tried desperately not to trip. She ran through the old house, frantically unlocking the front door before bolting outside into the cold night air. It was so dark out, the moon her only source of light as she ran through the woods. Her feet were bare – rocks and twigs scratching her skin with every step, but she barely registered the pain.

All she could do was keep running.

Carla was terrified to look back, afraid that Frank was chasing after her – hunting her down like an animal he intended to slaughter. If he could kill his own mother in cold blood, Lord knows what he would do to her.

She had to keep running, she had to find help!

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Peter had been sat in his car outside Frank's house for hours and still no sign of him. He wasn't at the factory either, and no one on the street had seen him since the trial. Even his mum had gone and done a disappearing act.

Something was definitely up.

Peter sighed as he slipped his key into the ignition and prepared to leave. He had never felt so utterly helpless in his entire life. He knew Carla was out there somewhere, but he had no idea where to look. If he could only get his hands on that bastard, Frank Foster.

Peter was certain that Frank was behind all this and if he had hurt one hair on Carla's precious head, he would live to regret it.

Just as he was pulling out onto the street, Peter's mobile began to ring and for a split second he thought it might be her.

"What's up?" He spoke into the receiver as he brought the phone to his ear.

It was Leanne.

"Where are you?" She asked, as if she still had the right to.

"Out." He replied, being intentionally vague. He didn't want to deal with his soon-to-be-ex-wife right now. He had more important things to do – like find Carla, kill Frank and make sure no one ever hurt her again.

"You need to get over here. Simon is really upset."

"What's happened? Is he alright?" Peter asked, immediately worried about his son.

"He had a nightmare," Leanne explained. "Something about a dragon lady with black hair swallowing you alive."

"Very funny, Lea." Peter replied, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice. He knew he was the one in the wrong for cheating on his wife, but it still pissed him off to hear her talk about Carla like that.

"Don't blame me, I'm just the messenger." She argued, bitterness in her tone of voice. "Are you gonna come take care of your son or not?"

"I'll be there soon." Peter said as he flipped the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket. He was reluctant to give up his search for the night, but with no sign of Foster and no other leads to go on – Peter was at a standstill.

But as soon as he'd sorted things out with Si, Peter vowed to keep looking for her. He wouldn't rest until Carla was back in his arms, safe and sound.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I really think you ought to get to a hospital."

"I'm fine. Please just keep driving, we're almost there."

"But your feet are bleeding and you look so pale…"

"Just drive!" Carla shouted at the man behind the wheel, desperate to get back home – back to Peter.

She had run through the woods for what seemed like hours, convinced that Frank was chasing her the entire time. Eventually she had stumbled out onto an old country road just as a car was driving by. She had practically flung herself in front of it – jumping up and down as she frantically begged the driver to stop. She had jumped in the passenger side and screamed at the startled old man behind the wheel to get her the hell out of there.

Upon seeing her injuries, the man had wanted to take her to the nearest hospital right away but Carla had given him directions to Coronation Street and begged him to take her there instead. She had wanted to ring the police and tell them about what Frank had done, but the old man didn't have a mobile and Carla wasn't willing to make any unnecessary stops. Her main priority was getting as far away from Frank Foster's lair as possible.

She would ring the police later. Once she was in Peter's arms and could finally breathe again.

"Is this the place?" The old man asked as he pulled up in front of the bookies. They had driven by her apartment first and when she saw that Peter's car wasn't out front, she assumed that he was at home with Simon.

"This is it." Carla nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. It felt so good to be back in familiar surroundings.

It's amazing how being held captive in a dark cellar for days can make you appreciate the little things in life.

"Thank you so much for helping me. If you hadn't driven by when you did, I…" Her voice trailed off as a familiar face caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

It was Peter. He was walking down the street towards his apartment, cigarette smoke escaping his lips as he dug through his pocket in search of something – his keys maybe? It wasn't important. All she cared about was seeing him again. She desperately needed to feel his arms around her – needed to feel his warm breath against her cheek as he promised her that everything would be okay and that Frank would never be able to hurt her again.

Carla was just about to jump out of the car and run over to him when all of a sudden the apartment door opened to reveal Leanne standing in the doorway. She and Peter exchanged pleasantries before he threw his cigarette onto the cobbles and entered the apartment.

Carla's heart sank in her chest as she watched Leanne close the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" The old man asked, his concern for her apparent.

"Would you mind if we kept driving?" She replied, her voice hoarse with emotion as she fought the urge to burst into tears. "I think maybe you were right. I should get to a hospital."

"Glad to hear you've come to your senses, Love." He said, smiling in relief.

"I certainly have."