"Fancy going for the hat trick?" Frank taunted, moving so close to Carla that she could feel his musky breath on her chalk white face.

Her breath hitched in her throat as it sunk in what he was insinuating; she tried to move his body weight off of hers but his grip was too strong for her. She got flashbacks from that traumatising night in September, she willed herself back then to do something. To scream for help, to kick and punch to the best of her ability. But her attempts were fruitless and that stuck with her after the attack, it made her feel weak and like she'd failed herself. This was her chance to fight back again but she just couldn't do it. It felt like she was made out of stone, her limbs made of led. Mentally she was fighting him away but physically, she crippled beneath his grip and stood completely still.

"Cat got your tongue?" Frank smirked, placing a stand of hair behind her ear as he looked through her watery orbs that were darting round the room, unable to stare at the figure in front. "Hmm, I'll just take that as a yes."

Slowly but forcefully, he leaned in and placed a bruising kiss onto Carla's lips. She squirmed, trying to move her head to the side but he locked it in place. His nails dug into her flesh on her face so she whimpered whilst he took control and starting kissing her.

No, this couldn't be happening. Not again.

One hand moved to grab the waistband on her jeans, pitching the material between his fingers and pulling it down in a seductive manner. Her hands grabbed the material of his shirt and she pushed against his chest but he wasn't budging.

"I weren't wrong when I said you liked it rough, was I?" He laughed, a sickening malicious laugh that made bile rise up Carla's oesophagus.

As her eyes continued to dart around the factory, they caught sight of it.

She suddenly stopped resisting and moved her left hand to the filing cabinet. He was so lost into the kiss that he didn't notice her reaching out to the filing cabinet, so he carried on intensifying the kiss. Her fingers reached out for the glass object, it was so far but so close.

She winced as he bit her bottom lip and that's when it happened. She held the bottle in her shaky hands and without thinking, she swung it round and whacked it across Frank's face.

Immediately, he dropped to the floor, his body rolling down the cold factory stairs where he land in a heap at the bottom.

Carla froze.

Her breathing was shallow, her face dripping with sweat and tears. When her legs buckled beneath her, she sunk to the floor and released a loud harsh sob that she'd been trying to contain.

A hand flew to her chest as she hyperventilated, her breaths were strained and the crying wasn't helping her gain control.

After a couple of moments, she slowly turned her head to the right to see Frank's motionless body on the floor. A puddle of blood had already circulated around his head and his pale complexion was something you'd see from a horror film.

The sight made Carla retch, she leaped forward and started dry heaving. It was clear she was in huge amounts of discomfort, and what she'd just done had dawned upon her and she couldn't quite believe it.

This man has ruined her life and now he was dead, he was going to ruin it even more.

Their was never an excuse to kill. Frank had done some cruel, nasty things in his time but he didn't deserve to be brutally murdered. She thought back to Liam's death, she was absolutely devastated that he'd been murdered but now she, Carla connor, was a murderer. She's gone down to Tony's level after being so hurt and disgusted by his behaviour. How had it come to this?

She still had the slightest bit of hope that he was still alive, clinging onto the somewhat of a life he had. But when her eyes drew back to the pool of blood that seemed to be only growing larger, her hope disintegrated.

Should she call the police? Or hide his body? Maybe even just run.

She knew she'd be in so much more trouble if she didn't come clean, but she finally had the chance to build a life with Peter and she was desperate not to jeopardise that.

Speaking of Peter, should she tell him? She couldn't keep secrets but this would surely make any sane person run a mile. But she couldn't do this without him, she needed him.

She slid down the stairs, still on the floor. Her eyes were tightly shut as she got nearer to the body; eventually her body came to a halt as she reached the bottom step. She inhaled and exhaled deeply as she looked for the mental strength to open her eyes.

After a couple of minutes, her eyes slowly opened and she stared at Franks cold body, her lip trembling before quickly shutting her eyes again.

Suddenly, her heart dropped as she heard loud banging on the factory doors. Followed by a slurred voice.

"Frank! Frank! Let me in your scheming little-..."

Her eyes widened, her heart skipped a beat. She stood up and wobbled due to the emotional downfall she was currently experiencing.

Rushing to the door, she unlocked it and collapsed into his chest where she burst into tears once again.

"C-Carla?" Peter slurred, frowning as he swayed side to side.

"Oh, Peter." She croaked. "H-help me."

"What's happened?" He mumbled.

"You're drunk." She sighed.

"Carla, what's happened?" He repeated, pulling her face up so he could see her properly and gasping when he saw the scratch marks on her face and tears that continued to rapidly roll down her face. "Has he hurt you?"

"I-..." She stuttered, unable to get her words out.

"Let's go inside." He gently held her wrist, getting more concerned when she flinched and stepped away. "Come on."

Peter walked into the factory, Carla following behind him with her head bowed down.

Immediately, Peter sobered up. He frantically turned round to face Carla, eyes wide hinting for her to explain.

"He...he tried it again. He tried r-raping me." She cried. "I didn't think...I just hit him."

"With what?"

"The wine bottle." She explained. "He fell down the stairs."

"Okay, okay," he exhaled, trying to understand what had happened. "Don't panic."

"Don't panic?! I've killed him, Peter. I've killed someone. I'm a murderer."

"He might not be dead, you're thinking the worst." He held onto her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, tears filling in his when he felt her shake.

"Are you serious? Look at him! He's dead. I'm going to prison."

"Right, we need to leave." He ordered. "You need to trust me, baby."

"We need to call the police!" She screeched.

"What and have you go to prison for life? No. I need you and you do not deserve to go." Peter shook his head, watching Carla gag through the tears.

"But I killed him..."

"But for a reason. You're not a murderer, it was self defence and it's not as if he didn't bring it upon himself."

"That's no excuse." She bit her lip.

"I'm not saying it's an excuse. But you don't deserve to be locked up for something that is his fault. I won't let it happen." He said with so much determination, so much passion and stubbornness. No way was he going to lose his soulmate after going through so much to get her.

"I don't think I can do this..." she whispered, a hand rising to her mouth as she sped to the toilets to throw up.

Taking a deep breath, Peter kneeled down to Frank's body and just stared.

He was able to check his pulse now that Carla had left, she wouldn't be able to cope with him even touching the body.

He took hold of Frank's wrist and bit his lip at the feeling of his cold skin.

Nothing.

"Oh god..." he groaned, putting his head in his hands and pulling at his short hair. Somehow the situation they were now in was a million times worse and he didn't know what to do for the best. But not only did he care for Carla unthinkable amounts, but this had messed with his head too along with the heavy intake of alcohol, leaving the body was the only way through this.

He didn't know how Carla was going to cope but he'd force her to and hopefully they'd be okay. They could move away, get her away from all the heartbreak and bad memories Weatherfield held.

His thoughts were interrupted by a disheveled Carla dragging her feet across the floor to where Peter knelt down.

"Peter," She muttered, placing a hand on his back as he continued to stress with his head in his hands. "Sorry about that."

"We need to go..." he said, quietly.

"Huh?"

"Out now. I'll grab the bottle and we're going to go to the skip and smash it up." He explained the plan, standing up and delicately placing a hand on her cheek. "We'll be okay."

She breathed heavily and stared into his eyes, nothing but love and care unlike the cold eyes of Frank's; It was a stark contrast.

"Okay. I trust you." She nodded, kissing his lips softly before he walked off. "So we're just gonna leave him? Not call an ambulance?"

"Nope." Peter called up from the top of the stairs where he was grabbing her bag and bottle.

"I can't believe this is happening..."

"We can't change the past but we can change the future. So let's go..." he said, holding her hand and leaving with the bottle.

Outside the factory, Peter looked around and sighed in relief at the emptiness of the street. It was thankfully dark as well so the timing was pretty spot on.

"Don't lock it." Peter directed her over to the near by skip and dropped the bottle in it. He then grabbed a piece of metal that was already in there and started smashing the bottle up.

It was in tiny shards now and satisfied with his work, he placed the metal on top and turned to Carla who was still shuddering in distress.

"Now what?" She asked, as if she was a young child speaking to a parent.

"We go home and carry on as if none of this has ever happened."

Once the couple had arrived to the flat, they both stared ahead in silence. Carla started circling the room, biting her nails whilst Peter stood by the kitchen counter.

"This feels wrong." Carla broke the silence, looking at him.

"It is wrong. I never said this was right, any of it. But this is the only option." He replied.

"I wonder who'll find him. They'll be so traumatised, this isn't fair."

"They'll be traumatised whether he was dead or not." He snapped.

She swallowed, staring at Peter and chewing on the inside of her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Peter."

"It isn't your fault." He shook his head.

"I'm worried you're going to resent me." She sighed, how did she have any tears left.

"I think we have bigger issues to worry about. But let's just go to bed and take each day at a time."

"Okay," she nodded walking into the bedroom before stopping. "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too."

I hope you all enjoyed that, I'm actually quite proud of it and very excited for this story to go on! It won't be too long and it'll be a complete twist to what's happened in the show (obviously) - leave reviews or follow my twitter carlafanx