Tw: Mentions of self-harm, addiction and mental health issues.
Michelle sat outside the ward; her knee bounced with nerves.
"Why won't she see me?"
"Because she's confused and unwell. She thinks you handed her in."
"But she'll see him?" Michelle jabbed her thumb behind her in the general direction of the ward window. Unable to stop herself, she stood up and peered in. Carla was tucked tightly under white sheets, her arm heavily bandaged. There was a drip in her other hand and Peter was stroking over her fingers, his mouth moving as though he was chatting to her, though the brunette didn't look as though she was taking anything in. His hand moved to rest against her cheek and when she leaned into it, Michelle let out a sharp exhale, the air shooting out of her lungs.
"Please, sit down. Don't upset yourself, Michelle." Kate pleaded with her, tugging on her arm so she fell back into the blue plastic chair.
"I know, I know I'm being selfish." Michelle mumbled, dropping her head into her hands. She was exhausted. She'd not slept the previous evening; she'd refused to leave the hospital and instead headed straight to reception, dumped her identification onto the desk and demanded that they give her the necessary forms to fill out so she could visit Carla freely. Only when she'd been let back onto the ward that morning, her best friend had refused to see her, refused to see anyone. When Johnny arrived, she'd spoken to him for less than a minute before snapping at him to get out. Kate hadn't even attempted to head in and see her sister, she'd just turned up the next morning pale-faced, asking to know what was going on. When Michelle had given her the full story, she'd broken down in tears and Michelle felt like doing the same when Peter had arrived to visit and Carla hadn't booted him out.
"You've handled this amazingly," Kate insisted, her voice gravelly. Johnny had nipped off for proper hot drinks after the vending machine had spurted hot, beige water into a plastic cup that tasted of neither tea nor coffee.
"If I'd handled it properly, she wouldn't have ended up in this state in the first place."
That's all they'd done all morning; each member of the Connor family had sat and taken it in turns to confess why they were to blame. It hadn't helped.
"Once the medication has settled in, once she's calmed down, she'll see you. She—she loves you."
"Don't."
"But she does!" Kate cried; she tugged Michelle's arm to try and get her to turn towards her. "And that's what'll get you both through it, that's how you'll help—"
"Kate, just stop!" Michelle barely managed not to snap; her tone sharp as she finally met her desperate gaze. "Have you seen what's going on in there?" She pointed behind her once more. "You need to stop all of this, right now. It's not what you think, it's not what you think at all and—" her voice cracked and she quickly looked away, swallowing hard. "and—and I hate how it happened, I don't think it should have and it was my fault."
Kate's brow creased in confusion.
"What are talking about? I've seen the way you are with each other—"
"Carla's been stressed for weeks," Michelle whispered, as her head dropped into her hands. "The factory, money, us falling out—which was my fault."
"Yeah but that was just because she kissed you, I don't blame you for freaking out at first while you were working out how you felt—"
"No, Kate, will you please just listen?" The older brunette suddenly begged, her eyes round and glistening.
Kate's mouth snapped shut and she gave a small nod. It was the furthest they'd come in talking about it, as far as she'd ever got without either Michelle or Carla shutting her down and she'd been desperate for answers from the start, desperate for an ounce of happy news to help their family through the intense misery. Admittedly, she thought it'd be hard and at times felt resentful that they could end up sickeningly happy together while she was so full of grief, but after everything that had happened, she couldn't bring herself to wish more of it into the world. From the other brunette's expression, however, she was suddenly anxious; it didn't look like Michelle was about to say anything remotely good.
"I didn't speak to Carla for weeks. She was overworking herself, she had all that stuff with the factory and after she—" she still couldn't bring herself to confess it, not even when Kate already knew what had happened when Carla had confronted her in the flat. "When you shut us both in the cellar, I asked her why she did it." Michelle swallowed; her hair covered her face, but she raised her hands and swiped at her cheeks. Kate refrained from reaching out to her, she didn't want to interrupt in any way.
"She said she just missed me, that it literally drove her mad." Michelle finally looked up at Kate, as if expecting something to click.
"Yeah, because she absolutely adores—"
"Not like that, she doesn't. What if it was the only way she could think of to keep me close?"
"I really don't get where you're going with this. Do you—do you regret it or something?"
"I regret what I caused her to do." The older brunette spoke in a trembling voice; she pressed her fingertips to her cheeks and pushed the tears away once more. "The night it happened, we were arguing again; she'd been working late, she was so stressed, I didn't even know at the time that Robert had threatened her. What if her head was already wrecked? What if she was just doing it so I wouldn't leave her again?" She was working herself up, her chest burning with shame. She was finally confessing what she'd tortured herself with nightly, what she couldn't bring up before because it wasn't about her, but she couldn't stand it any longer, because maybe she'd done something terrible.
"Your head is wrecked right now too, Michelle, I promise that's not why she-"
"What if she was already getting ill, Kate?" She let out a dry sob against her hands; they were shaking, her eyes pooling once more. She forced herself to look up, allowing the younger brunette to see the utter devastation in her pained expression. Her throat burned; she took another hard swallow and a deep inhale.
"What if her mind wasn't right and—and that's the only reason me and Carla ended up sleeping together?"
Kate opened her mouth to argue furiously against Michelle's ridiculous theory but before she could make a sound, one from behind them caused her to freeze.
"You and Carla did what?"
Michelle felt her heart turn to ice and fall into the pit of her stomach, sharp and heavy. She'd been so wrapped up in her guilt and Kate too invested in trying to argue her defence that neither of them had heard the door to the ward open.
"No. No that wasn't what it—" Kate tried to speak for Michelle, who had lost the ability to. She was staring at Peter looking completely terrified and whatever excuse Kate thought she could come up with died on her tongue; her answer was written painstakingly obvious across her stricken face.
"You? You slept with Carla?"
"It's not what you think—" Michelle attempted, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. Peter let out a scoff of disbelief.
"I just heard you practically admit to messing with her head!" He argued, though quickly glanced through the glass and lowered his voice significantly; Carla was fast asleep, hair fanned over the pillow, her injured arm resting carefully over the sheets. "After all the aggro you gave me."
"That's not what she meant, Peter. She was just laying into herself. We've all been sat here blaming ourselves—"
"She's been blaming me." He snapped, pointing at Michelle who had yet to speak another word. Her brow was creased, and she was watching her friend through the glass, mortified that she'd been stupid enough to start running her mouth with no guaranteed privacy. "Telling me I should have known she was getting ill; did you not stop and think there might have been something amiss when she decided to jump into—"
"Will you both just shut up with that?" Kate sounded angry, she was looking at Michelle and Peter as if they were the one's who'd lost grip on reality. "How do you think Carla would react if she found out what you were both insinuating? She didn't do it because she was mentally ill, do you know how insulting that is? She did it because she wanted to."
"Is that why you didn't want her to stay with me? After you accused me of only helping her so I could get into bed with her; what is it you were doing, ey?"
"Don't." Michelle turned away from the window, her eyes fixed darkly on his. Her voice had found its strength again, it was low and dangerous. "Don't you dare."
"Were you jealous?" He looked genuinely curious, confused, but he continued to taunt her. "Did you want to keep her all to yourself?"
"I wanted her safe!" Michelle seethed, and she advanced on him suddenly, her teeth grit together. She could smell stale cigarette smoke and mint. "Not all to myself! She's not a toy, Peter!"
"Is that what I said?" Peter snapped; the pair of them shrugged off Kate when she tried to move them away from one another. "You'd love that though, wouldn't you? Being able to keep her in a box, control her every move—"
"Oh, we're back on this again. Change your tune—"
"You're a flamin' hypocrite, Michelle!"
"Are you jealous? Or is there another reason you're acting so pig-headed?" She retorted; her hands clenched into fists at this point.
Peter let out a bark of laughter and she was close enough to see the chewing gum lodged in his back teeth. "You are kidding? Of your midlife crisis?" He laughed again and Michelle's hand twitched. "I can see why it happened; you'd just split up with Robert, you were lonely and probably a bit down on yourself. Carla's your friend, she didn't like seeing you upset and it was probably something to take her mind off of things as much as it was her taking pity on y—"
"Michelle, don't!"
The brunette woman's hand had swung forward but Kate grabbed hold of her arm and stopped her from delivering what was probably going to be an almighty slap across his face.
"Get him away from me!" She struggled against Kate's grip, her fingers still itched to land heavily on his cheek but she knew in that back of her mind that as much as she felt like it, she'd regret it if the younger girl released her.
"Both of you calm down! Neither of you are thinking straight." Kate cried desperately. She continued to drag Michelle back, putting a good few foot of distance between them and Peter. "Have either of you even slept?"
Peter didn't answer, he just snatched up his coat from the chair and slung it furiously over his shoulders. Michelle suddenly cast a worried glance back towards the ward, but either the commotion hadn't been loud enough, or her medication had knocked her clean out, because her eyes were still closed.
"Where are you going?" Michelle still shook with anger, but her chest flared in panic. He hadn't said what he was going to do with the news.
"None of your business."
"And what happened with me and Carla isn't yours. Or anyone else's."
Peter caught the desperate look in her eye and shook his head. He scoffed, stormed by her and Michelle could only watch as he wrenched the doors open and disappeared through them. She sat back down and let out a shaking exhale. Her eyes filled and she slammed then shut, refusing to let her emotions get the better of her. Kate approached her tentatively. She took a breath and opened her mouth, but before she could say a word Michelle cut her off.
"It's fine. I'm okay. I don't want to talk about that."
"None of what he said was true—"
"Kate, what he thinks isn't important." She pushed her hand through her hair and sat up properly. Kate watched her apprehensively, but Michelle reached out at settled her hand over the younger girls. "Carla's ill and you're in the middle of grieving; getting you both through the other side is the only thing that matters right now."
|X|X|X|
Michelle stepped out of the Kabin, stuffing the wad of magazines she'd purchased for Carla into her bag as she made her way back to the Rovers. She'd left the hospital half an hour ago when she'd decided to go back to the Rovers and sort out a bag for Carla. She hoped that if she provided her with a few home comforts, it might make her stay easier. Michelle didn't expect her friend to see her, but she could at least give Johnny her things to take with him. Carla had allowed her dad a couple more minutes before she'd announced she was tired again and had fallen back to sleep. She was just about to push the door open when Peter rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw her. He stumbled slightly, unable to stand on one spot and Michelle narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"What are you looking at?" He snapped, his words slurred, eyes unfocused.
"Oh, god." She whispered; her eyes wide with fear. "No you haven't, please tell me—"
"I'm not telling you anything. Why should I?"
The brunette glanced anxiously over her shoulder and scanned the street for prying eyes.
"Worried what I'll say?" Peter laughed; he pressed one hand against the wall to hold himself steady and with the other dug about in his pocket for a crushed packet of cigarettes. He used his thumb to flip the lid only to growl in frustration and launch them into the road when he discovered they were empty.
"No, I'm not. I know you won't say anything."
He laughed again and the booze really was his demon, she could see the darkness clouded in his eyes, ridding him of any ounce of warmth he might have had before.
"Won't I? Are you sure about that? I could stand in the middle of the road and scream it for everyone to hear!" He made a clumsy move as if to do just that, but Michelle suddenly moved forward and grabbed his arms. Taking advantage of his lack of balance, she shoved him without much care back around the corner and pushed him hard against the wall.
"Yes, I am sure." She hissed, giving his shoulder another shove when he tried to wriggle his way up off the hard stone. "Do you know why? Because it's not just about me, I'm not the only one you'll be throwing under the bus."
He tried to focus his gaze on her, blinking hard and squinting, rubbing one hand hard over his face which was twisted into a furious scowl.
"Peter, please, listen. Please try to get this through to your alchy addled brain." Michelle spoke slowly through gritted teeth, breathing hard. "If you go running your big, fat gob, have you any idea what that might do to Carla?"
He stayed silent; his brow pulled into a livid grimace.
"The state she's in, she's already paranoid, she already thinks everyone's talking about her. Do you think she needs this on top of everything else? We barely had our head around it, don't put it back in hers." Her tone was urgent, her grip on his jacked turned her knuckles white. "Do not bring it up, do you hear me?"
"Yes. Get off." He raised his arms and shrugged her off, hand pressed against the wall to keep his balance again. "Your dirty little secret is safe."
"Dirty?" Michelle shook her head. "You know nothing! Shall I tell you what I know, though? That it won't be long before everyone here realises you've fallen off the wagon again."
The reality was almost enough to sober him up. He blinked, as though he had just received a slap in the face. Michelle was still half tempted to deliver one. He glanced around the street, his expression fearful. "Oh god, what am I doing?" He whispered to himself, his words muffled as he covered his face with his hands. "My dad, Si… They can't know."
Michelle seemed to struggle with herself for a moment; her mouth opened as though to throw an unhelpful retort his way, but then she let out and exhausted sigh. "For God sake," She muttered under her breath, before seizing his sleeve. "Come on, we can sneak around the back."
"Ey?"
"Well you can't go home in that state if you don't want anyone to know. You need a coffee, or something." Her tone was firm and she left him unable to argue as she pulled him down the ginnel and peered over the fence to make sure there were no punters outside smoking. When she found the place clear, she nudged the gate open and let them both in through the back door.
"Is that you, love?" Jenny called from the bar, and Michelle quickly ushered Peter into the back room.
"No, it's me." Michelle hoped she wouldn't come through, but there was no such luck. She shot daggers at Peter and nodded towards the chair to indicate he should sit down. She prayed he had the sense to keep his trap shut.
"Hey. How's Carla?"
For the first time since leaving the hospital, Michelle's expression faltered; a wave of sadness invaded the hard anger she'd been caught up in.
"I don't really know; she's not letting many of us see her." She mumbled, unable to even offer Jenny a grateful smile when the landlady patted her arm. "I'm going to get some of her stuff together and let Peter take them to her."
Jenny peered into the back room. "Oh, hello."
Peter nodded to her and raised his hand. Both he and Michelle held their breaths, but Jenny seemed satisfied with the update and trailed back into the bar.
"Thanks…" He murmured; he looked awkward as she flicked the kettle on and poured him a glass of water while it boiled. "Why are you helping me?"
Michelle dumped copious amounts off coffee granules into mugs; she needed the boost herself. She was exhausted but knew her day was far from over. "God knows." She muttered; she stirred the contents with such force that liquid sloshed over the sides and she hissed as it burnt her skin.
"Are you okay?"
"Yep. I'm grand." She carried them over to the table and placed them down non-too-gently.
"Look, after what I said you've every right to be mad at me—"
"I'm fuming!" Michelle snapped, disgust in her eyes as she turned to face him. "She needs us! And you've gone to pieces."
"That's not fair. She'll only see me; do you know how much pressure that is? How much strain I've been under since she went missing?"
"Pressure?" The brunette whispered; her voice shook. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes. "I had to bring her out of that house. I had to calm her down at the hospital and walk her to that ward. I had to let her go—" She glanced down at the back of her hand; there were still angry, half-moon marks embedded into her skin from where Carla had clung to her so desperately.
"You're not an alcoholic, Michelle. I'm not saying it's easy for any of us. But this just pushed me over the edge."
She considered the words for a moment, wrapped her hands around the coffee mug in front of her. It burned her skin, too hot to sooth her. "Then why didn't you speak to someone?" She asked, and he looked surprised at her calm manner. "You must have felt yourself slipping. I get that it's an illness and it's not your fault, but it is your responsibility to learn to manage it. Why didn't you go to a meeting?"
"I was weak. I wanted a drink."
Michelle sat back in her chair; they were both silent. Peter took advantage of the quiet, relieved she hadn't started shouting and blew over the hot liquid in his mug. She was tired, too, not that she'd admit it. But she couldn't bring herself to feel any sorrier for him. As much as she'd wished for help when she'd been alone in the house with Carla, she'd give absolutely anything to be the person the other woman wanted to see right now. That's all she wanted. She missed her best friend; she missed her reassurance. Johnny had two daughters who needed him; Kate was grieving; the rest of their family had gone. It was always Carla she'd turned to. She knew she'd have to wait a long time before she got her back, and even if she did, she wasn't sure things would ever be the same between them again. What would Carla think of her? What if she hadn't wanted that night with her? What if she had? The thoughts whirred around at such a rate it caused her to drop her head into her hand. She pressed her palm firmly against her forehead in an attempt to stop the dull ache. She wanted to go back to that morning so badly; she'd wake up next to her, pull her in and talk to her. Really talk. Ask her if she was okay, what was going on in her head. Or maybe she wanted to go back before even that. Back to the when Carla had come to see her at the flat; then instead of kicking her out she could sit her down and find out what had been going on. She wore guilt like a second skin; she was trapped and it itched.
She was dragged from her thoughts when Peter placed his mug firmly on the table. He'd finished his drink, but his eyes were still glazed.
"Did Carla say anything to you at the hospital?"
"Not really, I just asked if she knew where she was, what had happened." He shrugged; he patted his pocket only to wince in disappointment as he remembered he was out of cigarettes. "I mainly spoke to her. I told her she was safe and that she was going to get better."
"Do you know why she won't she see me?"
"I think… Well, you were the one who brought her out and told her she was going somewhere safe. In her head it's like you left her, you were the one who let them take her. She's angry with you. And upset."
Michelle had suspected as much, and she knew it wasn't Carla's fault. She didn't blame the other woman in the slightest, but her heart still clenched painfully.
"It won't be forever."
"I know." She stared down at the contents of her untouched mug, watched as bubbles formed around the edges and burst one by one. "But it kills me knowing she's suffering like that and there's nothing I can do to help her. I'd trade places with her in a heartbeat."
Peter shuffled awkwardly in his seat and Michelle realised what she'd said, how it must have come across. Her head was clouded with stress and she was too tired for another argument.
"She's my best friend, I care about her."
"I know you do."
There was silence once more and Michelle wished she could disappear into it, but then Peter spoke again.
"I'm not going to tell anyone what I overheard."
Michelle's head snapped up and she finally met his gaze. She was lost for a response for a moment.
"Really?"
Peter nodded and pushed his chair back. He rose to his feet, adjusted his jacket and made sure his phone and wallet were still safely stowed in his pockets; thankfully he'd not managed to lose them while he'd started to drown his sorrows.
"It's not my place, it's your private life." He nodded down at the empty coffee mug. "Thanks for not telling anyone mine."
"You should tell someone, though."
"I will. I'm going to get my fags and then I'm going to call my sponsor and arrange a meeting."
"Good. Make sure you do." It was awkward again when Michelle stood up to see him out. She still wasn't a hundred percent convinced he was going to do what he said, but she wasn't about to add him onto the list of people to be concerned about. He had his own family to turn to. He told her he'd probably see her again later at the hospital and she just nodded as she watched him leave. Michelle still hadn't forgotten what he'd implied back on the ward, and she wasn't sure she could excuse him for shock.
She turned to go upstairs but realised she didn't know if Carla would have any of her belongings there. She'd been split between Roy and Peter's, and now Kate was staying where she had been, and it didn't feel right to go routing through her things to see if there was anything of Carla's left. So she couldn't even do that. She couldn't help her in the only way she'd been able to think of. Defeated, she made her way up the stairs regardless. The weight that settled in her chest was unbearable. As soon as she reached her room, she flung herself onto the bed, grabbed hold of one of the pillows and poured her heart into it.
|X|X|X|
The café was loud and Carla flinched as soon as she was lead through the doors. Even Peter's arm around her shoulder didn't provide much comfort. She stared at the floor and froze.
"Come on, love, nearly there." He coaxed, and she took another step. The voices of customers sounded distorted to her, like the was underwater. She felt heavy, each step was effort but at the same time she felt as though she wasn't really there. It was an odd sensation, like she was passing through in her dreams.
"Do you need any help?" Roy came from behind the counter and hovered by them. He looked uncomfortable but concerned. They were all out of their depth.
"I think we'll be okay. I'll just take her up and get her settled."
Roy nodded and went to open to the door for them. He allowed Carla through first. "If you need anything at all…"
"Thanks, Roy."
He coaxed her up the stairs, and she followed without word. She'd been unresponsive the entire journey home, she hadn't said a word. Only when he'd asked specific questions had he got a nod or shake of the head in response.
Carla glanced disinterestedly around the flat and made a beeline for the sofa. She slumped down onto it and pulled her sleeves over her hands. The oversized jumper she was wearing covered the heavy bandaging on her arm, but she settled her hand over the material and raised her knees to her chest. When Peter attempted to sit beside her, she flinched away.
"Hey, it's just me."
"I know. I want to be alone."
"I don't think that's a good idea." He sighed. She looked small and dishevelled. He dug around in her hospital bag and pulled out a wad of leaflets they'd been sent home with, along with her medication and instructions. "Do you want anything to eat?"
Again, Carla shook her head and continued to stare blankly at the wall opposite. It was disconcerting.
"Is there anything at all you want?"
"To be alone."
Peter let out a long breath stood up. He nodded over towards the kitchen area. "Tell you what, I'll go over here and put the kettle on."
|X|X|X|
Michelle thundered down the stairs in a panic. She'd woken up in a darkened room, with a damp pillow and swollen eyes and realised she must have passed out. She wrenched open the back room door to grab her bag and stopped short, confused. Johnny was at the table with a mug in his hands. Kate was there too.
"Why aren't you at the hospital?"
"Carla got discharged."
"What?" Michelle stumbled in shock, her brow furrowed. "When? How?"
"About two hours ago."
Michelle glanced at the clock. It was already almost five o'clock in the evening. Her stomach lurched; she'd been asleep for nearly six hours.
"Why the hell didn't anyone wake me up?" She suddenly fumed.
"Because you needed the sleep!"
"Where is she? Is she in her room?" Michelle pointed towards the stairs and Johnny shook his head. She felt her stomach drop again.
"She's at Roy's."
Michelle dragged her hand over her forehead and winced slightly. Her headache had returned already.
"I don't get it. She was in a secure ward, how have they let her out? Did they not see the state she was in? Why is no one with her now? Someone tell me something!" She fired off, her voice climbed in volume and Johnny sighed as he rose from his seat. He looked burdened, of course he was. Michelle felt bad that she'd shouted at him, but she was desperate for answers.
"They gave her medication; treated her for dehydration and they said they didn't see her as a danger to herself." He began, but Michelle cut in once more.
"Not a danger? She… Her arm… What are they playing at?" She snapped, though her anger wasn't directed at her family. Her bag was slumped on one of the kitchen chairs; she hurried over to it, snatched it up and slung it over her shoulder.
"They're arranging therapy—" Johnny began, but Michelle scoffed.
"This is absolutely ridiculous. I don't believe—Did Roy take her home?"
Johnny shook his head. He looked even more reluctant to answer given how wound up she was.
"No… Peter—"
"Oh my god." Michelle covered her mouth with her hand, completely panic-struck. "Right." She snatched her coat off the arm of the sofa. Her hair was still rumpled from sleep and her make-up had been completely cried away.
"She shouldn't be overwhelmed—" Johnny began, but Michelle ignored him and ran through the bar. She threw the hatch up with such fierce disregard that she very nearly knocked out a punter. He retaliated by throwing a few choice words at her, but she was already out of the main door.
There were barely any customers in the café when she pushed the door open and Roy had already started to sweep behind the counter. He looked up when the door chimed. He offered her a sympathetic smile that she found she couldn't return. The corners of her mouth twitched but wouldn't stretch any further. She felt sick with worry.
"Is she here?" Michelle whispered, and the café owner gave a sombre nod. "Can I see her? I've got a few things for her…" She indicted to her bag. Roy looked hesitant for a moment but relented at the woman's tearful expression. She thanked him and quickly dashed up the stairs. The worry intensified the closer to the flat door she got and when she reached it, she suddenly hesitated. Her heart thumped and she had to take a slow breath to try and calm herself. She raised her first and knocked on the door.
Muffled footsteps came from behind it and then the door swung open to reveal an agitated looking Peter. She barely looked twice at him, her panic and anger forgotten momentarily as she tried to peer straight over his shoulder. How she'd been let out, Michelle had no idea. Her heart sank and tears pricked in her eyes when she caught sight of her. She looked much like she'd done when she'd visited her at the Barlow's; bunched up on the sofa, shrouded in clothes too big for her with a mug clasped in her hands. She hadn't reacted at all to her appearance.
"I don't think she's up for visitors."
"I'm not a visitor." Michelle snapped as she dragged her eyes to his. She scrutinised them; they were no longer glazed and red as they had been that morning. He was stood straight, steady and his words hadn't been slurred but she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"I've sobered up." He hissed.
She fixed him with a hard stare. "Did you drive her home?"
"Of course I didn't!" Peter fumed.
"Swear to me? Swear to me that you didn't get behind the wheel with her in the car?"
"Michelle, we got a taxi."
"You better not be lying. You can cause as much damage to yourself as you like but you are not putting her at risk." She thought she believed him, not even he would be stupid and selfish enough to put Carla in danger like that. But she was still angry, angry that he'd assumed responsibility of getting her home after the state she'd found him in that morning.
He clearly didn't want another showdown, because rather than answer he reluctantly stepped aside and allowed her into the flat. If Carla had realised she was there, she didn't react. She walked over tentatively and perched herself on the arm of the sofa.
"Carla?"
The other woman's head snapped around.
"What're you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you, see how you were doing…"
Carla shot her a scathing look and then turned back to stare straight ahead once more.
"I've been worried about you, darling." Michelle tried again, but it only angered her further.
"You weren't worried when you left me there, were you? To be poked and prodded and have my head completely messed with." She bit out. Carla pressed her fingertips against her temples. She felt oddly empty; she expected to hear whispers in her ear and when they didn't come it left her both confused and frustrated. They'd been her only company for days; her only sense of guidance and they'd melted away to nothing. She felt nothing, unless it was anger or frustration.
"I would never have left you if I didn't have to. If I could have stayed with you, I would have. You know that..." Michelle cautiously reached out and attempted to place one hand over Carla's, but she snatched it away.
"Don't touch me. I want to be left alone. Why can't you both just go away?"
"Because I've missed you and I thought we could… Have a chat or—Or watch a film?" Michelle tried, but her attempt at getting through to Carla was shunned again.
"Just go away."
Michelle got up from the sofa and made her way over to Peter, who offered her a sympathetic grimace.
"What did the hospital say?" She murmured quietly, her eyes still on the other woman, who continued to stare directly at the wall opposite.
Peter gestured to the kitchen counter, where a wad of leaflets sat. "Sent us home with those and her medication."
"And therapy?"
"They're going to contact her in a couple of days. She's on the waiting list."
Michelle scoffed to herself and snatched up the medication packet. She quickly scanned the outline of the contents. "Waiting list." She muttered darkly, placing them back down with look of contempt. "Maybe it might be worth looking into how much it'd cost to go priv—"
"What are you whispering about?" Carla suddenly snapped.
"We're just talking about what the Doctors said." Michelle answered, meeting the other woman's eyes. They were cold and stern.
"I'll tell you what they said." Carla growled, jumping up from the sofa and over to where Michelle was stood. "They said I'm crazy. They gave me a ton of pills that make me sick. I can't do anything without him babysitting me." She spat, jabbing her finger over her shoulder towards Peter. "And it's your fault. It's all because of you." She turned and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. A few seconds later, they heard the spray of water from the shower.
Michelle let out a slow breath.
"She doesn't mean it—"
"I know, Peter."
They were both silent, until Peter's phone rang out from the counter. He picked it up and jumped in realisation.
"I've got my meeting. It's in fifteen minutes, but…" He sounded hesitant.
"You're going to it. I'll stay here with Carla."
"Michelle, are you sure?"
"I can handle her. Besides, Roy's downstairs. Just go, before you're late."
She watched him leave and then glanced aimlessly around the flat. There wasn't much she could do but wait.
But when over twenty minutes passed and she'd channel surfed the television of its entirety, she started to worry that Carla should have been finished by now, and so made her way over to the bathroom.
"Carla?" Michelle spoke through the door and knocked firmly. "You've been a while, are you okay?"
There was no answer, but the water was still running. After trying the handle and finding it turned easily, she realised the other woman hadn't locked the door behind her. She bit her lip; the last thing she wanted to do was invade her privacy, but she had started to panic. "Look, I'm going to come in so if you don't want me to, tell me…"
At first, when she pushed open the door, all she could see was hazy white. Steam had filled the room so thickly she could barely make out anything in the room. It was stiflingly hot, the air cooled instantly on her skin and dampened her face. Carla was sat on the floor of the bath, knees pulled to her chest, head bent She barely reacted as the water rained down onto her. Her neck and shoulders were an eye-wateringly painful scarlet and she wasn't making any attempt to get out of the way.
"Oh my God— Carla come on. Come on, you need to move!" But she wouldn't. Even when Michelle took her hands and attempted to tug her from under the shower. The younger brunette leant over and battled with the dials, but it was so foggy and, in her panic, she didn't know which way to twist it to turn it off or at least cool the water down. She winced when the scalding water sprayed her own skin, spit against her cheek and soaked through the shoulder of her top. Her hand wrapped around the shower head and she yanked it from its holder, threw it down onto the ledge and directed the spray against the back wall of the bath. With her other, she stretched over and pulled the towel that was hanging over the radiator and placed it over her friend's shoulders to protect her from spitting droplets while she moved across the room and pushed the window open. Steam billowed out and she dropped to her knees. Her heart thumped rapidly as she adjusted the towel better around the other woman. It was only when the steam cleared better that she saw the tears down her face.
"It's okay, I'm here," She whispered. It clearly wasn't. She carefully peeled back the towel; her skin still looked angry and sore. When the room cleared, she was able to see how to adjust the temperature and allowed the water to run cool. Michelle hoped it was soothing; Carla didn't react at the sensation when it washed gently over her heated skin. She was worried and contemplated phoning someone but then the older woman suddenly leant forward and dropped her head into the crook of Michelle's arm. Her breaths were gulpy and uneven and her body shuddered, but Michelle cradled her head gently and whispered to her. "I've got you, darling. I've got you…" She continued to run water over her skin and pressed her chin against the top of her head. Her own tears fell into Carla's hair as she rocked her. Carla loosened her arms from where they had been wrapped tightly around her knees and instead gripped onto the younger woman's arm that held her, her fingertips pressed firmly into her skin.
"I don't know how to stop it." She whispered, her voice scratched her throat as she spoke, and it sounded gravelly.
"Stop what?" Michelle asked. She shut the water off and pulled back from her slightly. With both hands free, she cupped the older woman's face and directed her gaze towards hers. Her eyes were red and glassy, droplets clung to her clumped eyelashes.
"Feeling like this." She looked pleadingly at her, as though she had the answer. Michelle wished she did.
"I know," Was all she said as she leant in closer and touched her forehead against Carla's. "But you will, soon."
"Can I get out?"
"Yeah, course you can. Here…" Michelle got to her feet and held out the towel for her. She turned her head and didn't look forward until the other woman had taken the towel from her and wrapped herself up in it. She reached out and held her face in her hands, brushed her thumbs beneath her eyes and erased the remnants of her tears that had gathered there. "Can I stay with you for a little bit? Even if you just want to sleep…"
Carla nodded and allowed Michelle to lead her through to her bedroom. She could feel her skin burning and she focused on it, focused on the feel of something. The younger woman sat her on the edge of the bed and placed a pair of pyjamas in her lap. She rummaged through another drawer until she found one of the other woman's t-shirts. The one she wore was uncomfortably damp.
"Can I borrow this?"
Carla glanced up and nodded. She made no attempt to move herself. She didn't want to. She didn't see the point. She wanted to sit there. But she didn't want Michelle to go. Because there had been something else. When she clutched onto her, through the numbness that had frozen her mind, there'd been something calming, something gentle.
"I'll let you change…" Michelle folded the t-shirt over her arm and left the room. Carla heard her go into the bathroom and she glanced down at the clothes in her lap. It was cold, but as with the burning she welcomed it. Goosebumps appeared over her arms and she watched the tiny hairs stand on end, watched her body react. She was real, she was there. There was a gentle knock on the door and Michelle was back, a concerned frown across her face.
"Carla, you need to get dressed." She indicated to the pyjamas that were still half in her lap; the top had fallen to the floor without her realising. "You're absolutely freezing, can you not feel that?" Carla just shrugged in response and Michelle grabbed another towel that was folded on her dressing table. She placed it around her shoulders and brushed her hand over the material, absorbing the moisture from her skin before using it to wrap around her hair. The water had turned it into a sodden clump at the back of her head and Michelle carefully rubbed it between the towel to soak up the excess water. Her skin still looked pink and was still warm to the touch when she pressed her palm between her shoulders, despite the fact that Carla had started to shiver with cold. She flinched at the contact, the coolness of Michelle's hand against it had been unexpected. But it was soothing and comfortable, and Carla needed to grasp onto everything she knew she could feel.
"Does it hurt?"
Carla shrugged. She didn't think she was in pain, but her experience with it was different now.
"Carla, please talk to me." Michelle suddenly begged. This eerily tranquil version of her friend terrified her. She brought a hand to her cheek and coaxed her around to face her. "Tell me how you feel, what you're thinking about…" She stroked her thumb over her brow and Carla blinked slowly, a frown etched onto her features.
"I don't know." She whispered; voice hoarse. She met Michelle's gaze and was hit with such a rush of familiarity it jarred her. The saddened hues in front of her were full of care and Carla felt her own eyes fill. "I don't know," She repeated as her lower lip trembled. "I can't think… I just feel—Everything's foggy." Carla clutched her head in her hands, a dry sob leaving her lips. "I'm so tired. That's how I feel. I'm tired."
"Okay," Michelle gently pulled her hands away and tipped her chin. "It's okay, we'll get you dressed and sorted, then you can sleep if you need to."
The other woman nodded and allowed Michelle to help her; she carefully eased the pyjama top over her head and tactfully continued to dry the ends of her hair while Carla struggled into the bottoms. Her limbs were oddly stiff and the bandage on her arm was damp and had half unravelled.
"Here, I can change that for you."
Michelle rifled through the bag Carla had been sent home with and dug out the spare dressings. She held out her hand and waited for the other woman to stretch out her arm; made sure to be careful as she peeled the rest of it away. Her injuries were clean but still stark against her pale skin; several of the deeper cuts held together with butterfly stitches. She used a gauze pad to pat her skin dry and then wound the fabric around her arm. Her hand lingered over Carla's when she'd finished.
"Why are you doing this?" Carla suddenly choked out. She met Michelle's eyes with her own glazed ones.
"Doing what?"
"Taking care of me." She looked genuinely confused, it was etched into her brow.
"Why wouldn't I?" Michelle laced her fingers through the other woman's and squeezed softly. "You're my best friend."
"Am I?"
"Carla…" Michelle frowned, raised her hand to her cheek and allowed it to settle there.
"I just mean—I don't… I don't know who I am," she stressed. Carla pulled away from Michelle and dropped her head into both of her hands. "Everything's just so hazy. I don't feel… I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. I can't stand it. I can't…" She rubbed her temples and concentrated hard, trying to summon the voices from before. "I feel like there's nothing here anymore to tell me what's safe." Her voice cracked and Michelle shuffled forward, cautiously resting a hand on her shoulder.
"You're safe here, with me, I can promise you that. You do feel safe, don't you?"
Carla shrugged and Michelle had to blink away tears. She stroked over the older brunette's hair; careful not to snag any of the tangles. "Hey, I brought something for you."
That finally made her look up and she watched as Michelle picked up her handbag. With difficulty, she extracted the stack of magazines she'd stuffed into there. "Go through those and see if you can spot the ugliest outfit." The older woman's lips twitched slightly as she took them into her hands, stroking her finger over the glossy pages. The woman on the front was grinning widely and her teeth were too white; she looked jarring. She moved that one aside and flipped open the next one. The words wriggled around on the page and she couldn't read them, so she focused instead on the images, but they blurred into splatters of colour. Michelle had shifted behind her and she felt the younger woman begin to comb through the ends of her hair. Carla let her and continued to stare hard at the magazines. But the grinning faces felt malicious, they watched her, confused and in turmoil and their sadistic smiles made her think they knew she deserved the misery. Her tired mind played tricks on her and she swore now that they were scowling. With a defeated sob, she suddenly pushed the pile off the bed.
"Hey, hey… What's wrong? Am I hurting you?" She froze mid stroke and leaned over Carla's shoulder. The older woman scrubbed her fists hard into her eyes and shook her head. "Carla, it's okay—"
"It's not!" She suddenly shouted, causing Michelle to jump. She sprang up from the bed and turned to face her, green eyes wired. "Look at me! Look what they've done to me. Look what you let them do!"
"I couldn't leave you in that house! It wasn't safe! Michelle stressed, climbing from the bed so she was stood in front of her. She caught her gaze, looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Carla, you're not well. Please try to understand that. Hearing those voices, it's not healthy. What you did to yourself—" Michelle reached out to try and take her hand but she pulled it away once more.
"You left me there. You were the only one I trusted. I begged you not to go."
"If I could have stayed with you, I would have. I wouldn't have let go of your hand." Michelle whispered, taking a step closer to her. "I stayed in the hospital all night. I made them clear me to visit straight away. Look—" She reached for her bag again and rummaged in the bottom of it, eventually extracting the visitors pass that had cleared her onto the secured ward. The younger brunette held it out for Carla to inspect. "As soon as they let me, I was outside your room. Waiting."
Carla took the pass from her hand. Tears swam in front of her eyes and blurred her vision, preventing her from reading the words.
"I was so scared." She whispered, her voice cracking.
"I know, baby, I know." Michelle spoke gently. "Do you still feel scared?"
"I feel lost. I can't stand it anymore." Carla slumped down onto the bed and dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders trembling.
"You have every reason to feel that way, I can't imagine what you're going through right now." Michelle crouched down in front of her, placing a tentative hand on her knee. Carla didn't push her away this time. "You know this medication, it's going to take some time to settle into your system. You're not going to feel this way forever, you're going to get better." She started to brush her thumb over her knee in circles. "But until then, I'm going to be here for you. Whatever you need, however you feel. You'll always be safe with me."
Carla nodded, a sob sounding form between her fingers at the younger woman's words. Michelle got up to sit beside her once more. As soon as the older woman felt the bed dip, she fell into her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her frame. It was as though the last twenty four hours had suddenly barrelled into her and all she could remember was how the only thing that felt solid was her presence, how tightly she'd clutched at her and how terrified she'd been when she'd been taken away. The memory or nurses pinning her to the bed while her panic rose until her vision grew dark, how she'd woken alone in a room with foggy pieces of the last week jumbled in her brain, the intense feeling of being in danger but not knowing what from. Confused and exhausted, Carla cried until she couldn't anymore, until her throat ached and her eyes stung and Michelle's shoulder was damp again.
"Is there anything you need me to do?" Michelle asked as her crying subsided. She'd been tracing patterns over her back and murmuring soothingly to her.
"Make it all go away." Carla sniffed, finally sitting up. Her eyes were swollen, cheeks pink and glistening.
"We will," Michelle assured her, carefully brushing away the tears that glazed her face. "The doctors are going to ask you some questions, find out what made this happen, and then we can help you make it stop."
"What if I'm just weak?" Carla whispered, shrinking back on herself.
"Hey, you're not." Michelle gently tipped her chin upwards so she could meet her eyes. "You're the bravest woman I know."
"I don't feel brave. I'm scared."
"Being brave doesn't mean never feeling scared, it means you fight through even when you are. That's what you've always done."
Carla looked at her, the burning care in her hazel eyes and she almost couldn't stand it. Even if the voices weren't there anymore, she remembered what they'd said. And part of her couldn't shake the feeling that they might be true. She let her hand drop to the bandage on her arm, her brow furrowed. "What if I don't deserve to get better?"
"What?" Michelle frowned, wondering if she'd heard correctly. "Carla, why—" She watched the other woman tug her bandaged arm further into her chest. "Are you in pain?" At the shake of her head, the younger brunette remembered what Carla had said to her before she'd coaxed her from the squat.
"Is that what they tell you? That you deserve to be like this?" She asked, softly.
"They said… I deserve the pain, for all the bad things I've done. They said if I did it, they'd go away." Carla choked, no longer able to look the younger woman in the eye due to the devastation plastered across her features. "Only they kept coming back, and I had to hurt harder."
"Sweetheart…" Michelle whispered, barely managing to blink the moisture from her own eyes. She reached out for Carla's hands and gently held them in her own. "Is that what happened in the shower?"
Carla shook her head. "I didn't know I was hurting myself. I just…I couldn't feel anything, and then I could feel that."
"If that happened again, if the voices came back or you felt numb and didn't know what you were doing… Do you think you'd be able to tell me? Would you be able to call me, or anyone, if you were alone and it happened?"
"I… I don't know, I'm sorry—" Her voice cracked again, and her skin stung when they were dampened with salty tears once more.
"Hey, it's okay, come here." Michelle shuffled closer and used her sleeve to gently dab at her cheeks. "You don't have to apologise. I was just trying to understand a little bit better, that's all." She cupped either side of her face in her palms when she'd dried her tears. "Thank you for being honest with me."
She searched rapidly for a different topic; she hadn't meant to work Carla up again and was worried that she might send her spiralling once more. She'd probably had more than enough for one night. Her eyes fell on the abandoned brush by the pillow and she picked it up. "Will you let me finish your hair? Then you can sleep… You look exhausted."
Carla nodded and turned around so she had her back to the younger woman. She listened to her talk softly about nothing in particular; she was telling her about her last shopping trip, listing off the products she'd bought and reviewing them. She told her she'd probably like the new lipstick she bought and Carla allowed her voice to soothe her, to give her focus on something other than the empty. Michelle made short work of the tangles in her hair and soon the soft bristles of the brush were gliding smoothly in long strokes, massaging her scalp and it took her a moment to realise it was something she was feeling. Something good. She let out a content sigh and tilted her head back slightly, leaning further into her movements.
"I like that."
Michelle continued a while longer, until the other woman's eyes started to droop and she could barely keep herself upright.
"Come on, you need some rest." She spoke gently, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before placing the brush down. Carla climbed beneath the covers but didn't lay back.
"Are you alright?" Michelle asked, as the older brunette reached out for her hand.
"Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
Michelle's expression softened further, she felt like she might burst into tears of relief at her request. Surely that must mean she did feel safe around her.
"I'll stay as long as you want me to stay." She assured her, pulling back the corner of the duvet and sliding into bed beside her. Carla moved closer. She seemed hesitant at first, as though unsure it was okay to do so, but when she met the warmth in the younger woman's gaze she knew Michelle was going to allow her the comfort. And it was. Burying herself into the crook of her neck, she was surrounded by that familiar perfume, the scent that had soothed her since she'd stared to lose herself. It felt like something she could hang onto, to stop herself floating away. She curled into the other woman and felt her arm slide around her waist. A hand stroked over her hair and she let out a content sigh. Her mind was so blissfully blank, she tried to remind that there was something to worry about, tried to force herself to remember what it was but then gentle nails scratched lightly across her scalp and any thoughts she might have been forming ebbed away again.
"I like this too," Carla murmured, without even opening her eyes. Michelle was almost certain she was seconds away from sleep. Whether it was the medication she was taking or complete exhaustion, this was the closest thing to normality that they'd gotten in weeks.
"Like what?" She whispered, preparing herself to make a mental note of whatever else made her feel comfortable, something she could use again to settle her. She wasn't naïve in thinking that every night after this was going to be as easy.
"When you're close to me."
A/N: Thank you for reading. I just wanted to make a note here that the next chapter(s) will have some really intense issues. There'll be scenes covered surrounding self-harm, suicide, depression and mental health. I'll put appropriate warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but I just wanted to make sure people were aware so you could decide whether this story is safe for you to continue to read.
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