"No! No, no, no!" Carla cried in anguish as her dreams were plagued by the events that happened a few hours prior.
Neither Carla or Peter could sleep that night, they were in bed just staring into space. Not even engaging in conversation with each other. They wondered if he'd been discovered yet. Perhaps by his mum, or Sally?
Time went fast and it was about 3:30am when Carla finally managed to doze off, however it didn't provide comfort and only an hour into her sleep she was getting reminded of everything.
"I'd rather be an alcoholic than a rapist."
"I was cleared, in the court of law."
She squeezed her eyes closed and whimpered as she thrashed around in the bed, waking up a confused Peter.
He turned over to face her and squinted before realising she was still asleep.
"You should know by now, you picked the wrong person to fight with."
"No! Get away..." she whispered.
"Carla? Carla, it's Peter. Wake up, darling." He said, softly, rubbing his hand up and down her upper arm.
Suddenly, her eyes widened and she pushed him away from her. As she breathed heavily and tears rolled down her contoured cheeks, she lifted a shaky hand and pointed to the door.
"He's there. H-he..."
"Carla, no one is there. It's just you and me."
"Oh," The realisation hit Carla, she looked up and into the dark orbs of her lovers and sighed. "I'm okay."
"Yeah, baby. You're okay." He smiled, softly. "Come here."
She crawled into his securing arms and shut her eyes as she listened to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat.
"What time is it?" She asked, quietly.
"About 4:45am." He replied, chuckling when he heard her groan.
"Do you reckon he's been found yet? Or if the factory girls will come in later and get the shock of their life." She randomly brought up, sending a chill through the room.
"I-I'm not sure. No one would've gone in late at night though surely." He shifted.
"Maybe Anne went looking for him..." she murmured. "Ugh, this is so wrong."
"Try not to think about it, go back to sleep."
Morning soon came along and they were woken up by the continuous sound of the buzzer.
"Oh, for god sake." Peter grunted, pulling through duvet over his head.
"Peter," Carla panicked, sitting up right in bed. "What if that's them? What if they've come to get me?"
"There is no evidence, Car."
"Come on, let's check." She jumped out of bed and wrapped her dressing gown around herself.
Walking through the living room, she stopped to take a peak out the window and could've sworn her heart stopped. This was all becoming too real.
There was so many police cars, police tap outside of the factory. Along with the whole street gawping at the scene in front of them.
It finally sunk in that Frank Foster was dead, and that she was the one to do it. She was going to lie to everyone she knows and loves and more importantly, to the police. Taking a deep breath, she lets the newcomer up.
As she opened the door, she frowned at a panicked Michelle who rushes up the stairs.
"Oh, Car!"
"What? What is it?" Carla played clueless.
Peter walked out the bedroom, topless in some pyjama trousers and stood next to Carla.
"Have you two been outside today?" She questioned, assuming not by their appearances.
"No, why? What's happened?" Carla urged her to continue.
"Is it Simon?" Peter piped up.
"No, it's Frank. He's dead!" She announced, watching their faces drop.
"What do you mean? He can't be dead." The older brunette shook her head.
"Sit down, love. I'll make you a cuppa." Peter walked over to the kettle. "Do you want one, Michelle?"
"Yeah ta," Michelle nodded, following Carla to the sofa and taking her hand in her own. "I know it's a shock."
"How did it happen?"
"Erm, they don't know for definite until they do the post-mortem but they think he was murdered."
"Murdered?" Her hand went through the hair in distress.
"Julie and Sean found him apparently, late last night. He was laying at the bottom of the stairs in a pool of his own blood." She explained, smiling as Peter hands over her drink and sits in the arm chair.
"Oh my god. Poor them, having to witness that." Peter exhaled.
"Look, I'm sorry to dump all of this onto you now. I know you've just woken up and yesterday was rough..."
"No, don't be sorry. It's best hearing it from you rather than the police. We appreciate it, don't we Car?" Peter narrowed his eyes as Carla seemed to be staring into space. The pair stayed in silence, awaiting a reply but Carla was in a mind of her own.
"Car?" Michelle nudged her.
"Oh," she returned to reality. "They're going to think it was me."
"No, they won't. You'd never do anything like that." Michelle reassured her, failing to notice the suspicious eye contact between the new couple.
"Michelle's right."
"They've got to point the finger at somebody though."
"We can focus on that when the time comes." Peter said.
"You're in shock right now, darling. Do you want me to leave you to it?" Michelle suggested, taking her empty mug to the kitchen.
"Yeah, do you mind?" Peter bit his lip, wanting to have a word with Carla.
"Of course not."
"No, will you stay whilst I get dressed? I guess I have to show my face at some point. Might as well be now." Carla interrupted.
"I can wait."
Carla and Michelle walked arm in arm to the factory where folk like Julie and Eileen were staring across the road. Most of the street were all watching in anticipation, ready for the moment when a dishevelled Anne notices Carla in the distance.
And it didn't take long.
"Get away from here! This is all your fault!" Anne screeched, rushing over to her to only be stopped by a police officer.
"What?" Carla's eyes fill with tears. This was too overwhelming. The sight of Anne, no matter how she felt towards her, was truly devastating and she knew it was all her fault. She didn't know how much longer she could lie, everyone pointing the finger and staring at her like she was an animal in a zoo.
"Arrest her! Arrest her now! She killed my son!"
"Anne, no I didn't! What happened?"
"Oh, playing the innocent. You're good at that, aren't you?" She screamed.
"Ey, that's enough!" Michelle glared at her.
"Mrs Connor?" She looked up at the sound of a stern voice.
"Yeah, that's me."
"May I have a word?"
"Erm," She looked over at Michelle. "Of course, do you want to come to my flat?"
The conversation was interrupted by Frank's carcass being carried out of the building. Carla felt bile threatening to overwhelm her as she looked through unshed from the body, to Anne sobbing next to it.
"I'll get one of my detectives to follow you there now." The officer nodded, drawing Carla back to the conversation.
"Would you like a tea or coffee?"
"This is not a social call," The detective spoke firmly as she sat at the dining table and opened up her folder. "Let's get started shall we?"
At Carla's silence, she continued...
"So how did you know the victim?"
"He used to be my business partner and then it turned into more," she sighed. "We got together and were going to get married-..."
"But I have here that you didn't because of a supposed rape by the victim on you." She interrupted.
"He did rape me." Carla narrowed her eyes, tears stinging and ready to fall.
"And that's bound to make you very angry."
"Amongst other things. But not to the point where I'd kill him." She shook her head.
"I wasn't saying that you did..."
"But you were hinting," Carla raised her eyebrows. "Why else would you be here?"
"We're just trying to get an idea of what kind of man Frank was to everybody." The detective smirked.
"Well have this, he was a disgusting rapist who conned me out of my business and then practically laughed in my face, threatening to do it again. But I didn't kill him. Because I have morals, unlike him."
"So not only did he rape you but he conned you out of your business. Care to explain where you were on the 5th March 2012 at precisely 8:30pm." The detectives interest in Carla seeming to grow the more she spoke.
Carla panicked; she hadn't had time to think of an alibi. Her mind was full of images of his body laying there, the sound of the glass hitting his skull. The thought of what she was supposedly doing that night didn't even cross her mind.
"I-I was with my boyfriend."
"A Mr. Peter Barlow?" She jotted it down on her notes. "The man who you were seeing behind Mr Foster's back?"
"I wasn't seeing him behind his back. We got together long after me and Frank split." She explained.
"And what were you doing with Mr Barlow?" She asked.
"We watched a film." She replied, simply.
"What film?"
"I don't even know actually, I wasn't paying much attention. You'll have to ask him." She lied.
"And where is he?"
"He's gone to see his son at the moment. You'll catch him later. All of this sounds like an accusation to me, what's this got to do with anything?"
"Like I said, we're talking to everyone who may of had a motive to kill him and questioning the street on their whereabouts of the night of his death. It's only an accusation if you feel like you've got something to side." She said, packing up her things." Okay, Mrs Connor. I think that's it for the day. I'll see you soon."
"I've got nothing to hide." She smiles, fakely, letting the detective out. "Don't hesitate to contact."
Now she was alone, she sunk into the sofas soft depths and left out a deep sigh. She didn't know how she was supposed to keep this up for...forever? She could feel the sentence getting stacked up the more time went on, now she'd lied to the police then that's it. If they found out, she'd never come out again. She willed Peter to come home, so she could explain the alibi to him before the police got there first...
Thank you for all of your support so far! A lot more drama to come, I'm looking forward to writing it. Remember to stay safe and STAY HOME! Leave reviews x