Tw: Descriptions of mental illness, suicidal thoughts, self-harm and sexual assault.
Carla raised her tongue without a word of complaint, allowing her nurse to check she'd swallowed her medication. Carla usually got on with her, the kind-faced one with the grey bun who'd she'd learned was called Nurse Penny, not Penelope. Once given the thumbs-up, she slumped back down against her pillows. She hadn't said a word all morning. She'd not even left the bed.
"Not yourself today love, are you?" She sighed, giving her shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Ey, look, your friend's here though." She added, nodding towards the door. Carla didn't even glance. "We were just talking, weren't we?" Penny called across to Carla, her tone still cheery. "She's not feeling herself, Michelle."
The other brunette's face dropped slightly, and she peered over at the bed in concern.
"Carla?"
Carla kept her gaze on the bedside table, the same spot she'd been gazing at all morning. She couldn't be bothered to talk, or move. She didn't want visitors or the watery cups of tea that nurses were forcing on her. But she didn't have the energy to snap, or shout, or even let them bother her after a while. She'd zoned them out, counted the stems in the vase; the bouquet was just starting to droop, the leaves curled into themselves.
"Hey, look." The nurse gestured to the newer ones that Michelle had brought in with her. "Come on, these are lovely."
Carla remained unresponsive. She hadn't even acknowledged anyone had come into the room. Michelle bit her lip.
"Is she…Okay? I mean is that-?"
"Oh, it's normal here love. Don't won't worry. It happens sometimes, they'll have off days." She nodded, reaching out to take the flowers from her. "All of them get through though. Let me get these sorted for you, they'll look lovely."
Michelle watched her pick up the old ones in the plastic water jug and carry them out.
"Hey…" She attempted to greet Carla again, moving to sit in the padded visiting chair. "You not feeling like talking today?"
Carla blanked her, Michelle wasn't even sure she'd seen her blink yet.
"Hey, those other flowers lasted a good nine days, didn't they? Tracy's going to have a fit. She'll be out of business."
Realistically, it hadn't been convenient for Michelle to keep bringing them during every visit, owing to the fact she'd been there almost every day for the last three weeks, but she'd brought them often enough for her to always have them fresh on her bedside table.
"So, I reckon I'm going to go a bit shorter at my next hair appointment." Michelle said, pulling the ends around to inspect them. "But maybe a few more highlights, to keep it soft." She glanced back across at Carla, who was still refusing to look at her. "Or maybe I'll go darker? You can help me figure it out when you're feeling better." She nodded. Michelle plucked one of the magazines from the ever-growing stack and started to flip through it. "Sort of like that, maybe?" She commented, flashing the page at Carla. She didn't act fazed by her lack of response, but continued to flick through it, chatting quietly to the other brunette about certain articles, or pausing to show a picture.
"Oh ha, listen here—" Michelle started. She glanced over the top of the pages and saw tears on Carla's cheeks. But she wasn't making a sound. With a saddened hum, Michelle got up from her seat and moved around the bed. She slid in behind Carla and shuffled against her, wrapping an arm across her waist. She pressed a kiss on top of her head.
"Hey, I've got something really funny to show you from the other night." She murmured, retracting her arm for a moment so she could wrestle her phone from her jacket pocket. "So Jenny had a go at making this risotto thing…" She grinned, pulling up her camera roll. "But it was so dense. She went back in the kitchen for wine and we were all seeing how any spoons we could stand in it." She spluttered, revealing a photo of what looked like thick porridge in an oven dish, with an odd array of utensil handles sticking out of it. "We couldn't get them all out before she came back in and she was so mad!"
The photo blurred as her eyes swam, more tears sliding over her face. She wasn't even sure what they were for. There'd been nothing bothering her all day, she'd just woken feeling—Well, nothing. No voices, no visions, no worries; just a vast numbness that had suddenly turned into a blanket of misery, crushing her chest. The phone timed out and Michelle's lock screen slid down. Carla remembered that photo, the selfie the younger woman had taken of them both. They'd stayed late, sorting files, and tidying after a busy week, congratulating one another on secured orders. They'd had one of Carla's desk drinks that Michelle said she definitely disapproved of all the while smirking and accepting the tumbler. It might have been one of those rare moments in her life where she'd genuinely felt closest to happy. Then their faces blurred too, and Carla suddenly turned over and wordlessly tucked herself into Michelle.
This might have been worse than the wracked sobs she'd grown accustomed to dealing with. Carla trembled and shook, but she wasn't making a sound. Michelle stopped talking too. She put her phone away, settled her arms around her and held her. There was nothing else she could do, but there wasn't anything else she needed to. They just stayed there, silent, while the front of Michelle's top became soaked with tears.
|X|X|X|
"You said twenty-eight days! Four weeks!" Carla snapped viciously, bringing her knees to her chest. "You can't keep me any longer!"
Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his seat, reaching out to place his hand over hers.
"I know your disappointed love, but—"
"This place is what's making me crazy!"
Johnny sighed, unsure of what he could say that would be of any comfort. He moved the carrier he'd brought with him to the bed and pulled out a box of chocolates.
"Peter got you these."
"Well, I don't want them." She huffed, kicking them slightly towards the end of her bed. "I don't even like them."
"Yes, you do, he said they're your favourites."
She glanced back down at them. They were. But she wasn't in the mood.
"Ah, look." Johnny nodded towards the door, looking relieved at the appearance of the Doctor.
"Oh, chocolates and flowers? You're popular this week, aren't you?" She greeted cheerfully, only to be met with Carla's scowl. "More popular than I'm about to be, anyway."
She took one of the hard seats and moved it closer to Carla's bed, sitting herself onto it. "I know we're coming to the end of your four weeks but—"
"You said I've done well. I've not heard anything for ages. Why do I need an extension?"
"Hey, you have done well." She assured her. "But usually we like to release patients when we know they've already got access to further treatment."
Carla closed her eyes, taking a breath to try and keep herself calm. The last thing she wanted was to allow herself to become so worked up that they came back.
"But from all the assessments, we really think you'd benefit from a good course of Trauma-Focused Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Now, there's a waiting list for this kind of treatment. We'll try and do what we can to bump you up, but—"
"But I'm stuck here until then?"
"Until we believe you're no longer at risk." She corrected.
Carla grit her teeth together.
"I didn't mean to burn myself with that tea. It was an accident. I told you."
Doctor Lopez just nodded, and Carla could tell she didn't believe a word. But it had been a genuine accident. She'd graced the dayroom with her presence at the Doctor's request; they'd hinted it might be good for her to get used to being around other people again. But someone had had a complete meltdown and their screams had caused her to jump and spill hot tea all over her hand. It hadn't even been that hot, there was barely a mark.
"I'll leave you to spend some time with your dad."
Johnny took it upon himself to tear open the box of chocolates. He shook the tray at her encouragingly. She didn't take one.
"How's Kate?"
"She's… Not bad. Insists that she wants to stay at the flat. Ryan and Ali have moved out, too. They got a flat together." He added. The pub had been a lot quieter in the last week.
"Did Michelle go with them?"
"No, she wants a bit more time to look."
Carla nodded. She shoved the chocolate back into its box as soon as Johnny had had his fill. The smell of them were making her nauseas.
"You'll be home soon, love…"
"Mm." She mumbled, her fingers picking at the edge of her blanket once more. "Okay."
|X|X|X|
Michelle was sat at the bar in the Rovers, elbow resting on the surface, head slumped in her hand. She had her iPad in front of her and was staring hard at the screen. Johnny could see her eyes glazing over, the way she swayed slightly on the stool to keep her balance.
"Michelle, love…" He sighed, going over to her and placing his hand over hers. "You look exhausted."
"I'm alright." She insisted, though had to clap her hand over her mouth to stifle a huge yawn. "I need to go over this staff rota. I want to make sure I can fit visiting hours around my shifts."
"You look dead on your feet, you work every hour Robert sends and when you're not visiting Carla, you're taking dinner across to Kate. You're going flat out."
Michelle sighed, opening that coming Saturday's proposed shifts. "Right, visiting hours are all day Saturday aren't they, but Robert will need me for at least two, it's our busiest day." She clicked her tongue as she decided where to put herself. "If you and Kate could be there with her the rest of the day?"
Johnny raised his brow. He had absolutely objections about seeing Carla. Michelle rolled her eyes.
"Look, Johnny, I'm fine. Okay?" She promised. "I like keeping busy, keeps my mind occupied." Michelle shrugged, though it didn't nothing to comfort him.
"Yeah, that's how Carla started." He murmured, though looked apologetic when her face fell. "Sorry, love… I just mean, I'm worried about you too, as well as Carla and Kate. And then Jenny's worrying about me worrying and—"
"Yeah, I get it." Michelle held up her hand. "We're all worried." He shot her a sympathetic smile and went back to restocking the glasses from the clean pile.
Michelle put herself down to work from two 'til closing and then closed the app, pulling up the NHS website which she'd frequented just as often.
"Did you say you could visit Carla from two?"
Johnny turned back around. "Yeah, course love."
"Because I don't want her on her own more than she has to be. She hates it there."
She scrolled down a few pages, chewing her lip as though in thought. Her phone lit up with a text message.
1 new Message
From: Ali
She's really good, I'll send you her contact details. Have you spoken to Johnny about it? X
Michelle glanced up shiftily. She hadn't said a word, but now seemed a good of a time as any.
"Johnny…"
"What're you planning?"
Michelle was about to swivel her screen around when the doors opened. She managed to keep in her groan but her distaste must have shown on her face.
"I'm not here for trouble, I just want an orange juice and some peace." Peter sighed, slotting himself onto one of the stools. "I've just had a clown threaten to put my mirrors in over a cab fare."
"Have you reported them?" Johnny asked, as Michelle scrolled disinterestedly through her phone. She'd been getting brilliant offers from the florist website she'd signed up to, courtesy of her recent purchases and from when her wedding planning business had taken off. She scrunched her nose at the garishly bubble-gum pink assortment that was on her screen now though; Carla would hate them.
"What did you want to tell me?"
Michelle glanced up, realising Johnny had finished speaking to Peter. He was nursing an orange juice, his eyes on his own phone.
"Um… Well, it's sort of private. It's about Carla."
Peter looked up.
"How is she doing? I'm nipping up tomorrow."
"Ah, that'll make her entire week." Michelle muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Actually, she really enjoyed my company last time."
Michelle shot him a look of resentment.
"Hm. Well. She's not in her right mind at the minute."
Peter raised his brow, eyeing her pointedly. "Clearly."
Michelle's lip curled in anger, but there was no way she could say anything to him, not when Johnny was already doing a stellar impression of a table tennis crowd member.
"Michelle?" He prompted. "Carla?"
"Oh. Well…" She turned her iPad screen around to show him, refraining from the sudden childish urge she got to throw her arm around it to block Peter's view. "If we go private, Carla won't have to wait for therapy."
Johnny's eyes scanned the screen for a moment.
"I've spoken to Ali, he's recommended someone who has a ton of exp—"
"Me and Jenny spoke about it." He admitted, but he looked glum. "We're looking well into the high hundreds per month for something like this. Maybe even pushing a—"
"Yeah. I know. I'm going to pay for it." Michelle decided.
Johnny stared at her for a moment, as though he was struggling to process the words.
"Hang on—"
"I've worked it out, I can afford—"
"Michelle, I can't let you pay for my daughter's therapy." Johnny cut across. "Me and Jenny were going to see if we could shuffle around some—"
"But you won't have to shuffle anything, just listen." Michelle stressed. She'd almost forgotten about Peter's presence completely, despite the fact that he was listening intently as though he was part of the conversation. He had a frown across his face.
"Well don't you think you should speak to Carla before you empty your bank account for her?" He asked, taking the liberty of plonking himself on the stool next to Michelle's. He even had the audacity to peer at the iPad screen.
"Er? What's it got to do with you?"
"Well, it's as much to do with me as it is you." He argued.
"You what? How did you work that out?" She snapped.
Johnny rolled his eyes. He'd started to get really sick of their bickering whenever they were in one another's presence; the snide remarks and cold glances.
"I'm her friend, too."
Michelle scoffed. "Yeah, that's what you've got on your mind. Friendship."
"Do you really want to go there, Michelle?" He fired back, allowing his anger to get the better of him. It had been a tense time for all of them. Everyone was tired, emotion's running high and Michelle felt the flare of panic in her chest, suddenly desperate to steer the conversation into safer waters.
"Look, I've got the money and I want to pay for it! This is about getting her home. Where she belongs."
"How have you got that much money?" He asked bluntly.
"Is it any of your business?" She snapped, but realised Johnny was looking curious as well. Or was it suspicion? Or was she just paranoid? He couldn't possibly suspect what Peter knew about her. About her and Carla.
"It's… I was saving again. For a dress and things…to marry Robert." She mumbled. She picked up a beer mat and started to pick at the corner of it, a nervous trait Johnny had seen in his own daughter often enough. He placed his hand over hers.
"'Chelle, love," Johnny offered her a sympathetic smile. "…Are you not being a bit rash? What if you and Robert decide that—"
"I don't want to marry Robert, Johnny. I don't even want to be with him." Michelle stated firmly. "I was going to use it to secure a flat but, well, if you don't mind me lodging here a bit longer…"
"Michelle…" Johnny looked hesitant. She looked him straight in the eye, her face set.
"Johnny, let me pay for Carla's therapy."
She pressed her lips together, blinking away the moisture that pricked the corners of her eyes. Johnny could tell that arguing with her would be pointless. It was a trait that ran strong through them all; once they'd set their mind to something, there was no changing it. That, and Jenny had been less than enthusiastic when he'd talked about dipping into their retirement fund. He finally relented, giving a small nod. He enveloped Michelle's hands in his own and squeezed them gratefully.
"If love could cure her, she'd have all the health and happiness in the world."
"It's what she deserves." Peter suddenly put in, looking shocked that he'd said it himself.
"Isn't that what you promised her?" Michelle snapped, turning to glare at him. She'd almost forgotten he was there; he'd been so quiet. Good things never did last. "At the altar. Before you went and screwed—"
"Er, alright!" He snapped straight back. "Do I constantly drag up your past mistakes?"
"No, you're always right in front of me!"
"That's enough!" Johnny raised his voice, silencing the pair of them before it could escalate.
"I need to get back to the Bistro." Michelle muttered, shoving her iPad back into her bag. "We can talk this through later." She nodded at Johnny and got up from her seat, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Yeah, I better get back to the grind too." Peter sighed. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and made his way towards the door with Michelle, stopping to let her go first.
"Cheers." She mumbled, pushing it open and stepping out onto the street. The bitter scent of tobacco smoke drifted beneath her nose and she gave an exaggerated cough.
"Could you not have waited until I was further away?"
"Oh, don't start. Why do you despise me so much, Michelle? We're going to have to learn to get on if we both want to be in Carla's life." He pointed out, not missing the way Michelle blanched at knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere. "Carla's forgiven the past, why can't you?"
Michelle folded her arms. It might take her a lifetime to explain all the reasons why she couldn't. "Because I had to pick up the pieces you smashed her into, Peter." She said bitterly, though embarrassingly a lump had formed in her throat. "And she was in so much pain. I can't bear to see her in anymore. Not now, not after this… It kills me."
Peter narrowed his eyes, watching her for a moment. It was as though something had clicked. His eyes lit up in realisation, his mouth opening slightly, though it took him a moment to get any words out.
"You… You love her, don't you?"
Michelle swallowed. She wondered why her brain wasn't sending itself into overdrive, why it wasn't telling her to open her mouth and defend herself quickly. She just looked at him, the shock on his face. In his hand, the cigarette he'd lit was burning out, a long line of grey ash ready to disintegrate.
"More than you ever did."
|X|X|X|
"Michelle I really don't know how to thank you for this." Johnny stated for the fifth time that day as they made their way down the corridor of the hospital, with Peter slightly ahead. He reached the reception desk first and pressed the buzzer to let someone know they'd arrived.
"Johnny, I told you. It's your money—"
"But it wasn't, was it?" He argued.
"As far as I'm aware, it was yours. I gave it to you. I didn't want it. You used it to pay for Carla's therapy." Michelle affirmed. It seemed like the easiest way; they knew she'd have never accepted the offer otherwise, despite the fact that she'd helped Michelle out of countless tight spots over the years. "The important thing is, she's coming home. Although I really could have drove." She frowned, eyeing Peter miserably.
"Yeah, well, I wanted to come and see her too." He shrugged, tapping his foot impatiently as they waited. He hadn't had a cig all morning. "Besides, I thought you'd be happy for me to drive. You can cosy up together in the back seat." He muttered, causing Michelle to shoot him a glare. There wasn't much she could say in front of Johnny, though.
"Oh, it's your Ali, look." Peter nodded towards the door. He waved at them all, holding up his access card to buzz them in.
"Quite a fan club." He laughed, accepting a hug from Michelle, his face scrunched slightly when she kissed his cheek. "She's in high spirits."
Carla was sat on her bed with her bags packed. She had a smile on her face and was chatting to nurse Penny almost cheerfully. When she was handed her medication, she took it without complaint and showed her that she'd swallowed.
"Right, well." The nurse nodded towards Johnny, Michelle and Peter who were making their way up the corridor. "In the nicest way possible, I hope I don't see you again Carla."
Carla smiled at her. She'd been okay, really. She was really good at just continuing on and cutting through the glum that sometimes set in; honestly, Carla had wondered how Penny hadn't gone insane herself.
"Thank you." Carla suddenly said, her tone genuine.
"You're welcome." She replied just as sincerely, patting her shoulder.
Johnny was the first one through the door. Carla leapt off her bed and gave him the best greeting he'd had from her in weeks. He accepted the hug all too gratefully, patting her back. "I'm so glad you're coming home, love."
"I'm just waiting for Doctor Lopez to give me my medication and some other bits and then I think we can go." She said happily, turning her attention to Peter.
"Chauffer duties?" She guessed, holding out her arms. He laughed and pulled her against his chest, giving her a gentle squeeze. "More or less. But it's good to see you."
"You better not have brought anymore chocolate." She warned. "There's no gym in here and I've been bored."
"You look amazing." He assured her, kissing the top of her head. "Really."
Michelle thought Johnny might have caught the way her jaw clenched. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face straight.
Carla turned to her now, her smile widening, and she pulled her in close. "You're in trouble if there's no flowers in my room at home." She whispered, feeling herself get teary at the word. Home. She was going.
Peter moved further into the room to gather her bags for her. Michelle watched him lift her travel one and effortlessly sling it over his shoulder. He didn't need to. They weren't going anywhere just yet.
"Think we've time for a brew?" Johnny suggested, but Carla shook her head.
"No, look."
Doctor Lopez was hurrying through with her clipboard, looking slightly flushed.
"Ooh, sorry I'm late. One of the lift's upstairs has jammed. We've had to all maintenance." She laughed. Her hand dipped into her white lab coat pocket.
"You've got your medication, here. You'll be picking up future prescriptions from Rosamund Street Medical Centre, I believe, where you'll start your therapy sessions on Thursday." Doctor Lopez reaffirmed, hanging her a packet and a couple of leaflets. "You've got your emergency contacts; the number for the crisis team—"
"Yep, got it all." Carla nodded, tucking it all securely into her bag.
"And… You know this is another big adjustment. It might take a few days for you to settle in, but you look like you have a good support system and I'm confident you'll manage." She smiled, before stepping aside. "So, you're formally discharged."
For the first time in weeks, Carla felt such a sense of pure joy that she could have jumped. She settled for another hug from Johnny, who looked slightly teary.
"You big softie." Carla murmured, brushing her hand over his back.
"What's the first thing you want to do when you're home?" Peter asked, curiously, as he started to lead the way out of the room.
"Hmm… I want a bath. A proper one. Undisturbed, untimed and unsupervised. I'll see you all again in five to seven days." She laughed, absentmindedly linking her arm through Michelle's as they walked. "And you can get me some of Roy's lasagne." She nudged the younger woman gently. "The one here looked like throw-up."
"Listen at her, giving orders already." Johnny chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I don't think it'll take her that long to settle in."
|X|X|X|
"She's not coming down." Johnny sighed, dumping cash into the till with a clatter. "I just don't know what to do. I thought she'd be ecstatic to be home. I mean, she was. I don't know where it's all gone wrong."
"Well it's an upheaval for her, love," Jenny murmured sympathetically, patting his shoulder. For once she was cautious about keeping her voice down. "They said it'd take her time to settle in."
"Did you tell the rest of the staff that the back room is family only for now?"
"Yeah, they understand." Jenny said, before walking over to take a lunch order from a customer.
Johnny puffed out his cheeks, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he walked towards a spillage on the surface of the bar. He supposed he'd been a little naïve in thinking that normality would resume to easily. Carla's first couple of nights had been okay, she'd not done much other than sleep, or stay on the sofa watching tv. They'd coaxed her out for a walk around the street to the garden, but she'd been tense. Since then, she'd confined herself to her room. Michelle had worked double shifts over the last few days to make up for all her absences, though she'd sat with Carla whenever she'd had a free moment. They'd all been hounding Ali for advice, panicking they were doing something wrong, weren't doing enough, and he'd reassured them until he was blue in the face that as long as Carla wasn't in any danger, her mood would pick up again. But it wasn't enough for Johnny. How could it be, after everything? He'd already one child to mental illness; he wasn't sure he'd survive losing another. He was so caught up in his own worry that he hadn't even realised Michelle had come back on her lunch break until she was calling out to him.
"Any luck with Carla?"
Johnny shook his head, his expression bleak.
"She hasn't moved. It's been three days now, 'Chelle. I'm worried…"
Michelle bit her lip and nodded. She flipped the latch on the bar and made her way around, patting his shoulder.
"Well she has to move, tomorrow, doesn't she? She's got therapy." Michelle was hoping it would give her something to get up for. "I'll nip up and check on her again."
She slung her coat over a hook and dumped her bag down on the floor, before making her way up the stairs. It was quiet, not even the television was on. Carla's bedroom door was still cracked open and Michelle could see her form hunched under the duvet. She was laid on her side, her back to her, still in the exact same position as when she'd left. There was a plate with cold, soggy toast that hadn't been touched and a full cup of tea. The water glass beside was thankfully half empty.
"Carla?" Michelle called her name softly, but the other woman didn't react. She moved around the bed to the side she was facing and crouched down. Carla was staring straight ahead, her expression blank. Her eyes were glazed and pink, like she'd been crying for hours, but she wasn't now. She looked pale, lips dry, a clump of hair falling awkwardly across her cheek. Michelle fought to keep her expression neutral and carefully moved it back from her face. "Hey, darlin'. Do you want to try and have something to eat?"
Carla shook her head. She didn't want to move. She didn't see the point. She was exhausted and sick of Johnny and Jenny's attempts to get her to talk, or get up, or eat. She felt nauseas at the thought.
"Is there anything at all you need right now?"
The older brunette didn't even answer this time. Michelle checked her watch; she still had forty minutes left of her break. She stood back up and moved behind Carla, slipping under the duvet with her. She moved cautiously at first, but when she didn't protest, wrapped her arm around Carla's waist and pulled her closer.
"I don't know what kinds of things you're thinking right now, or what your head is saying to you…" Michelle murmured, carefully stroking back her hair. "But I promise you, none of it is true." She leant over further and pressed her lips to her temple, dotting a couple of gentle kisses against her skin. "You are so loved, my darling. So loved."
Tears gathered in her sore eyes once more and trickled down her cheeks.
"Don't." She suddenly choked out, her voice cracking. Michelle was about to pull away, thinking the other woman didn't want to be touched but she turned to face her, eyes laced with pain. "It just makes it so much worse."
"Makes what worse?" Michelle asked gently.
"The way I feel…In my head." Carla answered.
"You can tell me-if you feel comfortable. I'm listening to you."
Carla watched her for a moment. Her eyes were filled with so much genuine care and she could feel the guilt tearing up her stomach. She didn't want to say it, she couldn't. How could she say those words to her after everything?
"You'll think I'm crazy. I'll have to go away again." Carla whispered fearfully, her voice shaking.
Michelle shook her head.
"That won't happen."
"Michelle, I don't want to be here."
The younger woman swallowed, moving her hand down to tip her chin. "You mean…Here? In this room? The pub—"
Carla shook her head, and she knew, she knew really. She just didn't know if she was prepared to hear the words.
"I am so sick of feeling this way. I'm sick of waking up in the morning." Carla gulped. Her body was trembling with the effort to keep back the emotion that was building in her chest. "I don't want to be alive anymore."
Michelle didn't speak for a moment, a huge lump had formed in her throat and it was squeezing painfully. Carla was watching her, eyes wide and glassy, her whole body tremored with the effort it had taken her to force the words out. Fear threatened to seize her completely. A tiny part of her was relieved the words were out, but she was terrified of the outcome.
"Is it the voices? Do you hear them again or is it how you're feeling?" Michelle asked. The hand that wasn't by Carla's face was clenched, her nails digging into her palm as she fought to keep herself calm, her voice steady.
Carla shook her head.
"No, they've gone. I haven't heard them since the hospital…"
"And nothing is telling you to harm yourself? You're not seeing anything?"
Again, Carla shook her head.
"It's all gone. Everything. I just feel—Like there's no point—" Her voice broke and she let out a sob. Michelle instantly held out her arms and the older brunette fell against her, winding her fists into the material of her top.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" She started to cry, but Michelle shushed her gently, stroking over her hair.
"Don't you apologise, sweetheart, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault." She held her tighter, her hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Carla had tucked her head beneath her chin and she could feel the tears against her skin as she cried into her chest.
"Carla, do you think you're going to act on it?" Michelle asked softly; there wasn't a hint of accusation or disappointment in her tone. She was looking at her the way she always had, with a face full of care and concern and it made her feel like she didn't have to be scared of being honest.
"I don't think I would." She shrugged, accepting the glass of water Michelle had taken from the side and taking a few sips. "I don't feel like I can do anything right now."
"Okay," Michelle murmured soothingly, replacing the drink back on the side. She grazed her thumb against the corner of her mouth, erasing the water that had spilled due to her shaking. "And you won't hurt yourself?"
"I don't have the energy." Carla muttered, a slight scoff sounding from her mouth. "How pathetic am I? I feel like this but I'm even too lousy to—"
"Hey, no." Michelle jumped in, bringing both hands to hold her face. "You're not pathetic. Carla, you're so brave…"
The older woman shook her head again, her face crumpling once more. Michelle guided her back into her chest, securing her arms firmly around her.
"And strong. You're fighting this, you're doing it." Michelle murmured, rocking her gently. "Everything you've just told me, you tell the Doctor tomorrow, alright?"
Carla tensed in her arms.
"No… No I don't want to go." She whimpered, shaking her head.
"I know, but this is so important, baby. It's going to get to the bottom of why you feel this way. It's going to make you better."
Michelle kissed the top of her head and allowed her a few moments to compose herself. She was still crying.
"I don't think I want to know. There's so much up here—" She choked, clutching onto her tighter. "I'm scared."
"I know, I know," The younger woman nodded, combing her hand carefully over her hair. She had to be gentle because it had become so knotted again she was worried she'd hurt her. "I'll come with you, though. I'll hold your hand and wait outside while you're in the room, or I'll even come in if you need. I'll hold you all way through it if I can, if that'll make it better."
"If I tell them I want to die, they'll lock me away again. And I can't do it—I can't—" Carla's chest heaved, and she was overcome by another fit of crying. She clutched onto the younger woman as though afraid to let go. Michelle pressed her lips together to keep her own emotions at bay and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat that kept rising and falling, but never completely disappeared.
"They won't, baby, not if you aren't planning to go through with it."
Carla shook against her, she'd completely soaked through a patch of Michelle's blouse, but the younger woman continued to hold her, brushing her hand over her hair, down her back.
"I'm so sorry you're in this much pain," Michelle whispered, lacing kisses against the top of her head. "I wish I could take it all away from you. I would if I could, in a heartbeat."
Carla drew back slightly, glancing up at her. She looked devastated, she could see it in her eyes but her expression was so soft and there was a gentle smile across her lips that offered her reassurance. Michelle reached out and wiped the tears that had pooled in the crevices beneath her eyes. They were deeper than usual due to her lack of food and dehydration. Carla leant into her palm, her skin was warm.
"You know, my kids and—and you…" Michelle began, letting out a gentle sigh as she watched the other woman nuzzle into her. "You're who I care most about in this world."
Carla's lip trembled and she tried to blink the moisture away, but her eyes filled again. Michelle's were sparkling with unshed tears, too.
"I know your mind might be trying to convince you otherwise right now, but please listen to me and believe me…" Her voice was quiet, and she'd dipped in, so her lips were pressed tenderly against her forehead. "I love you so much."
Tears splashed down Carla's cheeks again and she nodded, trying and failing to keep back the sob that had built up in her throat. The words were a relief, after she'd spent two days in bed convincing herself otherwise, thinking she'd be better off out of everyone's hair. But Michelle was stroking over hers once more and holding her like she really did care and Carla believed her.
"I'm so glad you're here, baby." Michelle promised, reaching out to hold her properly again. "I swear to you. I'm so glad you're here."
It was too much for her, Carla broke down again. She was crying harder than before, her arms wrapped tightly around the younger woman. Michelle let her, let her cry it all out. She rocked her gently, murmured soothingly, whispered to her that everything would be okay. A tear managed to escape and slide down her cheek, falling into Carla's hair and she nuzzled into the top of her head, keeping up her comforting gestures until her shaking had slowed and her breath was even. Too even, it was deep and slow and when she pulled back a fraction, she realised Carla had cried herself into exhaustion. She was asleep. Michelle slowly extracted herself and checked her phone. She was already five minutes late and Robert had called her. Rolling her eyes, she stowed it in her back pocked and settled Carla more comfortably against the pillows. She murmured a little in her sleep but she was flat out. Michelle smoothed the duvet over her and watched her for a moment; she looked almost peaceful. Her lashes were clumped with tears and her cheeks were red but there was no frown across her features, she didn't look lost. She looked comfortable. The younger woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"You just hold on for me, sweetheart. I love you."
|X|X|X|
1 new message
From: Johnny Connor
Just checked on her love she's still fast on. Not to worry x
Michelle had placed the plates on the bar to check the message, letting out a relieved sigh. She'd tried to ask for the rest of the shift off but she was already working a double to make up for the last couple of days, so Robert had shouted her down. She'd been relying on half hourly updates from Johnny or Jenny to make sure Carla was alright.
Thank you. If she wakes up, see if she will eat x
"Michelle!" She jumped as her name was snapped, finding Robert directly over her shoulder. "Put your phone away and serve!"
"Alright!" She snatched the plates back up and placed them unceremoniously in front of the customers sat at the nearest table.
"Enjoy—"
"Hang on, we didn't order this." Came a gruff reply. A broad man with a heavy moustache and a pin striped suit was scowling down at the plates.
"You did, I took the order." Michelle argued.
"No, I ordered without shellfish. I'm allergic. I've told you twice and this is the second time it's come back wrong!" He shouted. "Are you trying to kill me off? What sort of establishment is this? I've never seen staff so incompetent! Is he hiring just for summat pretty to look at while you're choking to—"
"Oh, stick it!" Michelle snapped straight back, turning on heel and stalking off towards the kitchen. "I hope it does choke you."
"What!" She heard him bellow, then heard Robert trying to diffuse the situation but she'd already disappeared through the doors. She untied her apron and threw it down, placing her hands on the counter. One of the trainee chef's shot her a sideways glance but she ignored him.
It wasn't long before the doors flew open again and Robert stormed in looking thunderous.
"What the hell are you playing at, ey?" He shouted, rounding on her. "Are you trying to put me out of business?"
"He was an idiot."
"That's three orders you've messed up now! I've actually lost money!" He continued to scream at her. "Are you not satisfied with dumping me and ruining my life, you want to sabotage my business, too?"
Michelle stared hard at the ground. She didn't want him to think she couldn't cope, didn't want to break down in front of the rest of the staff.
"Well?" He suddenly demanded, slamming his hands on the counter either side of her, effectively hemming her in. She'd jumped slightly, her gaze snapped to meet his and she could see the anger swirling in his eyes. He was fuming with her. Part of her couldn't blame him either, she hadn't seemed to get much right recently. His hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, and he was louder than before. "Explain yourself!"
"Oi!" The kitchen doors opened again just as Michelle had let out a sob and started to sink to the floor. Knees against her chest, she dropped her head against them and cried. Ryan crouched down next to her.
"What did you do?" He snapped, turning to Robert with a glare. The chef looked guilty; he'd backed away from her.
"I didn't mean to I just—I shouted at her—"
"You had your hand on her!" Ryan wrapped his arms around a trembling Michelle and coaxed her into him. "Come on, it's alright…"
"I didn't hurt her! I was just mad, she's messed up all these orders." Robert tried to defend, looking more sheepish by the second.
"She's got a lot on." He turned back to her. "Mum, did he hurt you?"
Michelle shook her head, trying to control her crying.
"It's not him." She managed to choke out, leaning into the comfort of her son. "It—it's Carla. She's so ill. She's so ill and I don't know what to do anymore." She couldn't get anything else out after that, she was wracked with sobs and it was all Ryan could do to try and calm her down.
"Don't come near her." Ryan warned, pointing his finger a Robert who had gone off to get her a glass of water and was shuffling cautiously back over.
"I'm okay. I'm fine." Michelle insisted, swiping her hands over her cheeks and wincing at the grey smears of mascara clinging to her fingertips. God she must look a state. Her face flushed in shame at the way she'd gone to pieces in front of everyone.
"No, you're not. You're taking too much on." Ryan sighed, pulling a clean towel from the side, and gently dabbing at her face. Robert looked like he was about to protest on the improper use of kitchen equipment, but seemed to think the better of it.
"She hasn't left her bed for days. She won't move. She won't eat anything. She—" Michelle broke off, feeling the panic squeeze in her chest. "She says she doesn't want to be alive anymore." She whispered softly. "And I'm so scared that I'm going to get that call—like with Aidan—or—or find her and she's—" She shook her head, unable to say the word, instead another cry forced it's way from her body. "I can't lose her, not her…I can't."
Ryan looked devastated. He pulled her in and rocked her gently, allowing her to cry. He shot Robert another harsh look, but he himself was looking extremely sorry now.
"I didn't know…" He excused himself. "I didn't realise she was still that bad."
"Mum, you're doing everything you can. You're doing it all right. Ali said so earlier." He assured her, squeezing his arm against her shoulders gently. "You need to look after yourself, too."
"She's more important right now."
Ryan glanced around the kitchen quickly, but Robert was clattering around in the fridge and the other chef had tactfully moved across to the other work surface to continue preparing orders. He leant in closer and searched her face, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mum, I know you love her. I know-"
Michelle started slightly, wide eyes scanning the kitchen in fear but Ryan gave her another gentle squeeze. "Hey, it's okay. Honestly, it's alright…" He reassured her, as tears gathered in her eyes once more. "You don't have to talk about that, or anything. I'm just saying, I get how hard this must be for you. But you really can't let your own health suffer. You know Carla wouldn't want that."
"How can you know? I don't even know…" Michelle suddenly whispered, her brow furrowed.
"I think you do though mum, don't you?" Ryan spoke gently. "It's just not the right time, is it?"
Michelle closed her eyes and swallowed hard, shaking her head.
"I just want her to get better."
"I know, and she will." He promised, brushing himself down as he started to get up. He offered his hand out to Michelle and helped her to her feet. "You'll get through this." He stated firmly, before nodding over to the staff toilets. "Go and get yourself sorted, I'll have a word with Robert."
"Ryan—"
"I'm not going to start any trouble." He promised, but when she moved forward for a hug he realised that wasn't her intention.
"Thank you. I love you." She murmured, kissing his cheek.
"I love you too."
|X|X|X|
Michelle exited the toilets twenty minutes later. She'd just about managed to calm herself down and fix her make-up the best she could. Her eyes were still pink and she wondered if she'd be better off collecting plates and serving dishes rather than taking orders for the rest of the evening, her mind still wasn't working. She was surprised though, when Robert walked up to her, holding out her coat.
"Here," He offered her a smile, his voice gentle. He looked guilty. "You should get off, don't worry about the rest of the shift."
"What?"
He placed the coat around her shoulders and she pushed her arms through, still looking confused.
"Here, take this." He was holding out a metal flask.
"Robert, what-?"
"It's a soup I made, fresh. You know, full of vitamins, nutrients, a decent amount of calories. Might be easier for Carla to get down."
Michelle hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out and accepting it.
"Why?"
"Because I'm sorry for earlier, for shouting." He admitted, shuffling his feet slightly. "I don't like seeing you upset. I know she means—a lot to you and—Well, you still mean something to me so—" He nodded towards the container in her hands. "Should still be warm by the time it gets to her."
"Thanks…" She nodded at him, shooting him a small smile. "I better—Go…" She finished awkwardly.
|X|X|X|
It was quiet in the pub, Jenny was flicking through a magazine by the bar and Johnny was absentmindedly drying the same glass. When Michelle walked in, she shot them both a smile and judging by the saddened one Johnny returned, Carla was still upstairs.
"I'll go and see to her." Michelle assured him. She deposited the flask in the kitchen and slung her coat over the hooks by the back door, kicking off her shoes before making her way upstairs. She knocked on the door, though it was partially open and walked in anyway when she received no response. She hadn't expected one.
Carla was bundled up in the duvet, her eyes closed. Michelle could tell she wasn't sleeping.
"Oi, madam." She spoke gently, giving her a little prod. "I know you can hear me."
Carla reluctantly opened her eyes. She was still so drained; more than she thought she'd ever felt in her life. Maybe she could just lay here forever until she disintegrated into a blissful nothing. Not likely with Michelle on the scene.
"I'm going to run you a bath, okay?"
She started to rummage in her wardrobe. She pulled out a dressing gown and placed it next to her. "Put this on, I'll be back in a second."
Carla watched her leave and closed her eyes again. She didn't think she could sleep anymore. But how was she still so exhausted? She was about to roll over and pull the covers over her head, but Michelle was back. She let out a frustrated little groan at her appearance.
"Hey, come on. You'll feel so much better." She promised, peeling back the corner of the duvet. Carla shivered slightly. She was bundled up in pyjamas she usually wore in the dead of winter. "And you can't see the Doctor like this, your hair is a state." She pointed out, which caused Carla to throw a scowl in her direction.
"Carla." Michelle spoke more firmly. "Come on, otherwise they'll think you're not able to look after yourself."
That struck a chord with her. A tiny flare of panic cut through the vast nothing and she seized the hem of her top, pulling it over her head.
"Okay, I'll—" Michelle stood abruptly and hurried towards the door again. "I'll check your bath."
Michelle was sat on the edge of it, swirling bubbles around with her fingertip when Carla finally came in, wrapped in her dressing gown.
"I've used the last of my good bubble bath for you." She teased, and Carla tried to smile back but it was more of a grimace. "You get in and have a soak and then… I'll come back in a bit and do your hair for you if you want?"
Carla shrugged.
"Can I… Leave the door unlocked? Please? I'll make sure no one knows to come in."
"If you want." She muttered. Michelle allowed her hand to linger on her shoulder for a moment before leaving the bathroom. The door clicked shut and Carla didn't lock it. She pulled off her dressing gown and lowered herself into the water.
It was nice.
The warmth of the water was comforting to her stiff limbs, and whatever bubble bath Michelle had tipped in had the most relaxing scent, the one she realised she associated with the younger brunette herself. She closed her eyes and leant back, allowing herself to become fully submerged in it. Maybe this was a good place to ride out the rest of her existence. She could just lay here forever…
"Carla? Can I come in?"
She pushed herself up slightly, finding it easier to do so now she'd loosened up a bit in the warm. She didn't feel as heavy with fatigue anymore. Actually, for the first time in a while she suddenly found herself dying for a brew.
"Yeah, come in."
There were several hair product bottles tucked under her arm and she was carrying a mug.
"Oh my god, did you read my mind?" Carla murmured, instantly reaching out for it, though Michelle pulled it away and set it down by the sink.
"Hang on, let me do this first and you can drink it while this is on."
"What is it?" She asked, eyeing the tub that Michelle was holding.
"Fancy hair mask. Maria recommended it. It costs a fortune but it's salon quality, it'll do your hair the world of good."
Carla glanced up at her. The warmth that settled in her chest had nothing to do with the water. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Michelle's hand, giving it a squeeze.
"Thanks, 'Chelle…"
Michelle gave little squeeze back in response and then nodded towards the shower. "Right, swivel around."
She should have hated it, in theory. Carla had never liked anyone fussing around her. She'd hated every timed shower in that horrible ward, some nurse always sat just outside waiting for her, calling out to her. The loss of independence, not being trusted, feeling like she wasn't in control, having absolutely no privacy… But it didn't feel like that now. The fingertips massaging her hair were so caring and gentle; nails grazed against her scalp and she let out a quiet hum of satisfaction, her eyes fluttering shut.
"I will literally pay you to keep doing that." Carla mumbled, causing the younger woman to laugh. But that was just it, Michelle was caring for her because she wanted to, not because she had to. It wasn't a job, it wasn't like being back on the ward and yeah they might care for her wellbeing but at the end of the day they cared about their pay packet too and she couldn't blame them; a lot of the times their days must have been gruelling too.
"Here, love…" Michelle handed her the still-hot mug of tea when she'd rinsed her hair and finished applying whatever it was that she'd got from Maria. It smelled good. "Finish your brew and then you can rinse it out. Will you come downstairs when you're done?"
Carla nodded, another murmur of relief leaving her lips at the first sip. Michelle's cuppa's outranked Jenny's milky excuses by far.
"Robert made you soup."
She coughed slightly.
"Robert? Robert…Preston?"
Michelle laughed, shrugging her shoulder.
"Yeah. It looks good, actually. I've got that fancy bread for you as well."
Carla reached out to her again and Michelle crouched down. She reached out and placed her hand against her cheek.
"I'll warm it up for you." She told her, before leaning in and touching her lips against her forehead. Carla closed her eyes, leaning into her palm.
"Love you…" She murmured, without opening her eyes. That was something she could feel.
"Love you too, sweetheart."
|X|X|X|
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Michelle asked her for the hundredth time the following evening. They'd walked to the medical centre together, Michelle's arm linked with hers and Carla had contemplated allowing Michelle in to wait with her, but then she was worried she'd not be able to go into the room without her and she really didn't want the younger woman to have to listen to some of the things that had gone through her head.
"Michelle. I'll be absolutely fine, I promise." She assured her. "Get to the Bistro and don't forget to ask Robert for that soup recipe."
Whether because it was the first substantial thing she'd eaten for three days or whether it actually had been that good, Carla had enjoyed it immensely the night before and she was sure she'd almost reduced Michelle and Johnny to tears of relief.
"The recipe?" Michelle laughed, absentmindedly stroking Carla's hair back behind her ear. "Are you going to make it? Or Jenny?"
Carla spluttered with laughter at the thought.
"Yeah, maybe not. Just ask him for another flask of it."
Carla looked at her. She could still see the worry swirling in her eyes.
"I'm fine… I'm going to tell them everything, I promise." She whispered, reaching out and wrapping her arms around the younger woman's waist. She pulled her in for a hug, chin resting on her shoulder. Her stomach swirled with nerves, but she was determined to make a go of it. She had to.
"Text me, when you're done?" Michelle asked, and Carla nodded. She checked her phone. It was five to four. Almost time.
"I will… I'll see you tonight." She moved in and kissed her cheek and Michelle reluctantly let her go. She was almost at the entrance when the younger woman called out to her.
"Hey, Carla?"
"Yeah?"
"Your hair looks nice."
An endearing grin spread across her face, and she waved to her before pushing the door open. It was quiet, which was a relief. She didn't much feel like sitting in a waiting room full or groaning patients and screaming kids. She walked straight up to reception and addressed Moira.
"Carla Connor. I'm here for my four o'clock appointment."
|X|X|X|
Carla tucked the edge of the sheet under the corner of her mattress, letting out a sigh of relief. Five full minutes she'd battled with it, trying to get one corner to stay on without the other popping off. It was almost nine, and she'd messaged Michelle hours ago to let her know she was out of her session but she wasn't due to finish her shift for another couple of hours. She picked up the diary sheet she'd been given and looked at the list of tasks she'd set herself over the following week. Apparently, it was to motivate her to get up in the morning, to get dressed, to go about her day. She still couldn't see how it was going to work if she didn't feel like moving, but she'd promised to try and stick to it.
Well, she could cross make my bed off. Almost. She glanced at the duvet that was heaped on the carpet. It was a new one, something about it being weighted to help calm anxiety. Jenny had suggested it. All it had caused her was a load of hassle trying to stuff it into a cover. She picked up a handful of it and threw it up onto the bed.
"Need some help?"
"I thought you were working until eleven?" Carla frowned, as Michelle walked into the room. She picked up two corners of the blanket and shook it out slightly.
"Robert let me go early." She shrugged. "You've made a right mess of this." Michelle laughed, shaking the duvet again to uncurl the corner. Carla grabbed the other two and they both laid it over the mattress. "How was therapy?"
Carla puffed out her cheeks and sat on the edge of the newly made bed.
"Tough. Tiring." She mumbled; her hands clasped in her lap. "She said my… Low moods were a normal symptom of…"
"It's okay, you don't have to go through it all again here." Michelle assured her, laying her hands over the other woman's. "Those sessions are your business."
"No, it's okay… I mean, at first I was just banging on about how I couldn't get out of bed so she gave me these…Diary things but then… I don't know where it came from. I was suddenly spilling my guts about Tony and Frank…And my affairs…And Aidan and Paul and Liam…Just all of it is so—" She looked up at her apologetically. "Sorry…I know you lost them, too. I just didn't realise it was all so jumbled up there.
"Hey, I've told you, no apologising." Michelle smiled, moving one arm to slide around her waist. "You've done so well."
"Hmm…"
"Look at me. I mean it." Michelle's hand left hers and she gently turned her face. Carla twisted around; the younger woman's thumb grazed over her cheek. "Baby, I'm so proud of you…"
Carla wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. She could feel Michelle's hand stroking over her hair as she nuzzled into her shoulder.
"The way you've come through these last few weeks have been amazing, you're incredible."
She could feel her eyes growing wet and blinked to keep her emotion back.
"I wouldn't be here without you, 'Chelle. If anyone's been incredible, it's you." She pulled back slightly, looking the younger woman in the eye. "I know… I know what you did."
Michelle narrowed her eyes.
"I overheard Jenny talking to Dad."
Michelle closed her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. The words flamin' Jenny were uttered under her breath and Carla had the urge to laugh.
"Carla, please don't be mad—" She began, but that wasn't the emotion that darkened the green hues in front of her. Carla raised her hand and tipped her chin.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because it's just money." Michelle insisted, her voice soft but tone firm. "I can't take it with me, can I?"
Carla moved closer, until her forehead bumped lightly against the other woman's.
"It was just… Sitting there. And I'd rather have you here, getting healthy, than a load of cash in the bank. There wasn't even a decision to make." Michelle stroked over her cheek and Carla wanted to lean in further to her touch. But she couldn't, she was already so close, so close to the person who had been thrown into all of this with her and had somehow managed to help her keep her head firmly above the water even when she'd been too exhausted to swim. Carla nudged her nose against the younger woman's, tilted her head and then her lips were suddenly nestled against hers. She kissed her softly, winding a strand of Michelle's hair around her finger and she was so sure that Michelle was going to kiss her back—
"Carla." She pulled away abruptly, holding her at arm's length. "This isn't a good idea." It had taken every last bit of her strength to pull away. Her heart pounded madly in her chest as she stood up, putting a few paces between them. "It's too soon…"
A weight settled in the pit of Carla's stomach. Of course she hadn't been about to kiss her back. What a stupid, stupid thought. She'd just spent the last month and a half practically babysitting her. She couldn't think of a situation less appealing. Carla nodded, standing up herself and turning away from her. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm just tired."
"Carla…"
"Will you just go? I want an early night. Today was draining." She tried not to snap, already in defence mode. It was the third time the other woman had reacted badly to any intimacy between them and Carla thought she was starting to get the picture.
"Wait, can't we just—"
"Michelle!" Carla turned to face her, and this time there was anger in her expression. "Just leave me alone."
Worried about aggravating her further, Michelle just nodded and left the room. She fell back against the wall once she was on the landing, running her hand over her face. It had been so unexpected, but she'd already sworn that there was no way she was going down that road until Carla was under less strain. Still, she wasn't able to stop the way her chest fluttered, the way her lips tingled, or the way part of her brain screamed at her to march straight in again and kiss her back. She didn't, though. She just shuffled along to the next room, feeling utterly miserable.
|X|X|X|
Carla was devastated. And terrified. She could feel it building in her chest as she watched him. He looked so angry. He had every right to be. But there was something else about his looming presence the cold in his eyes, the sense of danger. She was back in her old flat, but something felt off.
"I trusted you. I opened up to you like I never had with any other woman and you…You were using me?"
Carla shook her head, her voice cracked as she spoke. "I wasn't-"
"Using me to make your boyfriend jealous. A smoke screen for your sordid little affair—"
"That's not true—"
But he was shouting now.
"And now you think you can just chuck me away? Job done?" He demanded.
"Okay." Carla choked, walking across to the flat door. "I want you to go. Now."
She unlocked the door and attempted to open it for him, but his body was suddenly pressed against hers. He slammed it shut again. She felt him roughly spin her around and then her back collided heavily with the door, knocking the breath from her. He looked at her with so much hatred in his face, twisted anger and his grip on her arms tightened.
"You're hurting me."
He didn't respond, he just dragged her away from the door and pushed her down onto hard floor. His hand tore at her shirt, she heard the material rip and suddenly he was straddling her body, the weight of him crushing. And she was frozen. She couldn't move. His hand moved along her thigh roughly and gripped the top of it with bruising force. She couldn't breathe. Or fight. But she needed to. She couldn't let it happen again. Not again. She struggled, but she couldn't shift his weight. He was going to get her, it was going to happen again—
"No!" Carla shouted, kicking frantically at the heavy duvet. "Get off me! Don't touch me!" She tumbled out of bed and crawled over to the corner, tucking her knees to her chest. The door burst open and a dark presence, backlit by the landing light, loomed in the doorway. It was him.
"Stay away from me!" Carla screamed. She struggled to gulp down air.
"Carla, love, it's me—" Johnny tried, but he was drowned out by another cry.
"Don't come in! Don't come near me!"
"What's going on?" Jenny poked her head around the bedroom door, an eye mask across her forehead that ruffled her hair oddly.
"Get Michelle." Johnny instructed, but her room door had opened, and she stepped out onto the landing too, a satiny dressing gown around her frame.
"What's going on?"
"I don't know… Carla's freaking out."
Carla was still tucked into the corner of her room, curled up tightly with her arms clamped around her knees. She was crying and muttering to herself. "Please don't hurt me…Please…"
Johnny moved aside to Michelle could step around him. She flicked on Carla's bedside lamp and cautiously crouched down a little away from her.
"Carla?"
She shook her head. Her eyes were scrunched tight. Her face shone with tears and her entire body jolted with tremors. She was absolutely scared to death, like a cornered, frightened animal.
"Carla, it's me. It's Michelle. What's happened, sweetheart?" She asked gently.
"He was going to hurt me. It was happening again… I couldn't stop it…" She choked, tangling her hands in her hair. "I could see him…I could feel him…" Her chest heaved; her breaths became rapid. "He was—going to- again—Don't let him, don't let him, don't let him—"
"Okay, okay, darling." Michelle moved closer and stretched out a cautious hand. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. No one's here who could hurt you."
Carla dared to open her eyes, she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She was in her room; Johnny was stood by the door with concern plastered across his features. Michelle was on the floor in front of her, her hand inches away from her knee. She realised then. She'd been dreaming. Just dreaming. But it had felt so real, she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her. Her face crumpled and she dropped her head down into folded arms, breaking down completely.
"Should I call someone?" Johnny spoke quietly from the door. Michelle shook her head.
"It's okay, go back to bed. I'll settle her." Michelle assured him. He threw one last saddened look at Carla and reluctantly left the room.
"Come here, it's okay." Michelle whispered. She slid herself along the floor until she was next to the trembling woman and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Carla slotted herself between Michelle's knees and curled into her.
"I could feel him… I could feel it…The pain…He was hurting me." She shuddered, barely able to force the words out through her crying. "I was so—so scared."
"I know, darlin', I know," Michelle soothed, combing her fingertips through her hair. "You're safe, now, I promise. It was a dream. No one's going to hurt you."
"I can still—" She broke off, her body overcome with tremors again and Michelle shifted them into a more comfortable position. She wrapped an arm around her waist, curling the other around her shoulders and cradled her, cradled her like she used to hold Ryan when he was a kid, when he'd run into her room screaming about fairy-tale monsters under the bed. But Carla's monsters were real.
"I can still hear his voice."
Michelle's fingertips wound into her hair, stroking against the back of her head. "Listen to my voice instead." She whispered, rocking her gently. "I'm here, no one else. And you know I'd never hurt you. Ever."
Carla gripped onto her. A dark patch of damp soon spread across the front of her dressing gown. She wondered how many items of clothing had become sodden with the other woman's tears over the last few weeks. She knew she'd let her go through every single last item in her wardrobe if needed.
Michelle was humming softly; occasionally she pressed soft kisses in her hair. Carla didn't recognise the tune, but it slowly started to drown out the sound of Frank's screaming. The gentle rocking motion soothed her, the way she couldn't ever remember having been soothed as a child. She thought she could probably sleep here on the floor, wrapped in the younger woman's comforting hold better than anywhere she'd slept before. Even after her cries had subsided, they stayed there a while longer, until Carla's breath stopped hitching and her body had stopped shaking. Carla felt her pull back a fraction and glanced up. Her thumb brushed over her brow and then swooped down to carefully erase the tears that lingered beneath her eyes.
"We should get you to bed, sweetheart."
Carla winced and shook her head. "I can't stay there."
"Okay," Michelle nodded, kissing her forehead once, then a second time. "It's okay, you can stay with me tonight."
|X|X|X|
Michelle opened her eyes blearily, letting out a hum of confusion until her brain took in her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was getting back from a shift at the Bistro and finding Carla lounged on the sofa. She must have dozed off on it with her. Neither her nor Carla had gotten much sleep the night before after her night terror. Carla had been restless. But she'd seemed surprisingly alright today, just tired. There were muffled voices coming from the bar even with the door shut; she realised that's what probably woke her up. Though, if they didn't quieten down they'd probably wake Carla, too. She was still tucked under Michelle's arm, fast asleep. The film they'd settled down to watch had long since ended and the news was playing to itself now. The weather section was about to start. Carefully, Michelle unwound herself from her hold and gently laid her against the cushions. She laid the throw back over her and exited the room.
"Well if you don't serve me, I'll just go somewhere else. You're a business, aren't you? Don't you want my money?" A slurred voice came from the gaggle of customers by the bar, one she recognised. It definitely woke her up, seeing Peter Barlow, barely managing to hold himself upright. His eyes were glazed and Johnny was trying to talk him down.
"Oh God, he's smashed." Michelle whispered, horrified. Johnny narrowed his eyes.
"You look really concerned."
"I… Carla's in there, asleep." She muttered.
"Oi! Am I getting this drink or what?"
"Let me talk to him." She went to move around the bar, but Johnny stopped her.
"What's going on?" He hissed, flicking his gaze over to where Peter was spilling change on the bar, struggling to count it out.
"What?" Michelle asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"You and him? You think I haven't noticed? The snide remarks and bickering? The glances? Michelle, what are you both playing at?"
Michelle's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe what Johnny was suggesting. It was so absurd that it forced a laugh from her throat.
"Are you serious?" She scoffed. "You think-? Really?"
"Well, I don't know! It's been really weird between you both and you and Carla had all that falling out months back—"
"I can't stand the man!" She was so outraged she forgot completely to keep her voice down. Peter glanced up.
"Oh, well, Michelle, that breaks my heart that does. How will I cope?" He slurred, laughing to himself. He was pushing coins across the bar, but Jenny refused to take them. "Look I just want half. Then I'll go."
"How the hell have you managed to get so tanked up?" Michelle shook her head, completely aghast. "Have you been doing a shot each time something stupid comes out of your gob?"
Peter let out a delirious laugh, clapping his hands. "Nice one, Michelle. Witty."
"Has anyone phoned Ken? Or Tracy?" Jenny suggested.
"Tracy's on her way." Beth piped up from a booth, waving her phone.
This time Johnny didn't stop Michelle from walking around the bar, she'd whipped past him before he had the chance. She went straight up to him and placed hesitant hand on his shoulder.
"Look, come on," She tried a gentler approach, desperate to get him out of the way. "I'll walk you next door. You need to be in bed—"
Peter let out a low chuckle, glancing her up and down. "Hey, thanks for the offer love—"
Michelle snatched her hand from his shoulder and stepped back in disgust.
"You wanna make your mind up which side—"
"Peter!" Michelle cut across him, waving a warning finger at him. "You need to go home, now." In a frantic attempt to get him to the door faster, she placed her hand on his shoulder once more to try and steer him in that direction. He pulled himself away from her so abruptly that she stumbled.
"Get your hands off me!"
"Whoa, mate!"
Michelle whipped around at another familiar voice; she hadn't even realised Robert was in the pub. He looked like he'd been dying to intervene, and Peter's aggression had finally prompted him. "Easy, fella. You need to sober up."
"Oh, let him go off the rails." Nick's voice came from the other booth, and Michelle couldn't think of three people she'd less like to be in a room with in that moment. "It'll give us all a laugh."
"You know what is funny?" Peter grinned, stumbling slightly and having to grip hold of the top of the booth to keep himself from tumbling. "Every single one of us here…" He gestured to himself, Nick, swivelled around to point at Robert. "Has slept with Carla." He dipped his head, his finger suddenly flicking pointedly at her. "Right, Michelle?"
All the air left her lungs. The pub was silent, she could hear ringing in her ears. Her eyes slowly filled and her head was screaming at her; deny it, deny it, but she was completely frozen. The silence was broken by a shout of laughter from Nick.
"Seriously?" He asked Peter, amusement in his tone. "Michelle?"
Peter nodded. "Yep."
"What?" She heard Robert whisper behind her; he'd stepped back slightly from the protective stance he'd taken.
"Wow," Nick nodded, unable to contain another cackle of laughter. "Wow, she really has gone around the twist, hasn't she? Carla's gone absolutely cuckoo—"
There was a sudden shout of anger, a blur of a hand and Nick was knocked completely off his feet. It happened so fast that no one had been able to stop her, she hadn't even been able to stop herself. She'd thrown herself at him and her fist had connected with his jaw with such force that her knuckles were throbbing.
"She's ill! She's seriously ill you vile bastard!" Michelle screamed at him. It had been building; the anger, the fear, the panic and then it had burst from her before she could stop it. Johnny hastened to get to her, wrapping his arm around her to try and pull her back.
"Michelle! Calm yourself down!"
Nick's eyes were scrunched in pain. He was slumped in the booth, nursing the underside of his jaw in the palm of his hand.
"Jenny—" Johnny gestured to Michelle and she nodded, quickly coaxing her away from the group. "Come on, love. Let's get your hand sorted."
"She needs her head looking at as well!" Nick shouted after them. Michelle was almost tempted to turn around another swing at him, but Jenny's hand was firm and she found herself steered towards the back room.
"Right, ice, ice…" Jenny muttered to herself, making her way through into the kitchen. "Sit down, love."
"What's going on?" Carla's sleepy slur came from the sofa. She sat up and worked out the kink in her shoulder, letting out a satisfied hum when it clicked. Her face soon turned to concern when she saw Michelle sat at the table, cradling her hand.
"'Chelle?"
"She's just decked Nick Tilsley." Jenny told her, as she came back through with ice wrapped in a towel. Michelle took it and placed it over her throbbing knuckles, wincing slightly.
"What?" Carla jumped up in shock, sliding herself into the chair beside Michelle. "Why?"
Carla lifted the towel slightly to inspect her reddened hand, letting it rest in her palm as she took the ice and allowed it to rest back on the swelling.
Michelle was trembling, she looked pale. "He said… Something awful." She muttered; her teeth clenched. "I can't believe he'd—"
The door opened and Johnny walked through it. He slowly closed the door behind him.
"The bar—" Jenny started.
"Sean's looking after it." He said. His eyes swivelled to Michelle, then Carla. "Peter's gone home. Tracy took him."
Carla glanced up, confused.
"He's drunk."
Her face fell. "Oh my God… He isn't?" She bit her lip, looking upset. "He was doing so well. How did that happen?"
"God knows." Johnny shrugged. "He came to see you a couple of hours ago, but you were fast on. Both of you, actually." He pointed towards the sofa. "Then he came back, and he was… Off his head."
Michelle didn't say a word. Her eyes were fixated on the black and white striped towel that Carla was holding against her hand.
"Well? Is it true?" Johnny suddenly blurted. "What he said?"
Carla narrowed her eyes; she was definitely missing something. "Nick? Yeah what did he actually—"
"No. Peter." Johnny directed the comment at Michelle. She didn't respond and he nodded. "Of course it's true, it's written all over your face." He mumbled, looking between the pair once more. "When? How? I mean not—Not how, I don't want details. Just—How long…Is there something going on?"
"I wish someone would tell me." Carla muttered, irritated, though she was looking slightly concerned at the way Michelle suddenly dropped her head into both of her hands, the bundle of ice dropping to the floor.
"Can I just have a word with Carla alone, please?" Michelle asked, her tone eerily steady.
"Yeah come on, love, let's give them a minute." Jenny sighed, giving Michelle a gentle pat on the shoulder. Johnny looked like he didn't want to leave, but his wife firmly steered him back out of the room.
"'Chelle?" Carla asked, when she still didn't speak. "What happened out there?"
Michelle pushed her hair back, wincing when her hand throbbed painfully at the movement.
"Peter…" She started, but didn't seem to know how to carry on. "He said that—me and you…"
Carla gave her a few seconds and then her patience started to thin.
"Michelle, just spit it out, for god's sake."
"He told everyone in the pub tonight that me and you slept together."
She waited for Carla to kick off, to throw a fit, to panic, to do something but she just sat there. Her face creased.
"But… Hang on, how would he know?"
Michelle's eyes filled with tears and she let out a little whimper. "I'm so sorry, it was my fault. He—He overheard me talking to Kate about it at the hospital. I had no idea he was there."
"But—Why didn't you tell me that you knew Kate knew? Why didn't you tell me Peter knew? Why haven't you said a damn word about it all this time?" Carla fired off. She was annoyed now, and she couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone.
"Why do you think?" Michelle whispered. She wasn't looking at Carla. Her gaze was fixated on the reddened knuckles of her right hand. It really had been a hard smack. She flexed her fingers slightly, wondering if there was more than just bruising. "I didn't want you stressed, or panicking, or paranoid that people were talking. I should have denied it, I'm sorry."
"Denied—" Carla broke off, letting out a humourless laugh. "Michelle, I knew you were uncomfortable about it but I didn't realise you were so ashamed."
"I'm not ashamed!" Michelle defended instantly, unable to keep her tears at bay. They spilled from her eyes and she swiped at them impatiently.
"Why did you hit Nick?" She suddenly demanded.
"Because when Peter blurted it out to everyone, he wet himself laughing. He said—" She broke off, reluctant to relay the information to Carla. But she was stood with her arms folded, a stern glare on her face. "He said… that you must really be around the twist. Absolutely cuckoo." She mumbled.
The words barrelled into Carla and she was at a loss for words for a moment, trying to take in how someone she'd once planned to spend her life with could say something so hurtful about her.
"Which is what people are going to think, now, isn't it? I wanted to wait until you were better to talk—"
"Wait, hang on." Carla was pulled back to reality. "What did you think?" She asked, and for the first time Michelle saw something like worry across her features. "Why do you think it happened?"
"I… I don't know…" Michelle whispered, biting down hard on her lip. "I mean I knew you were stressed at the time…And that's when things started-"
"Oh my god." Carla dropped against the arm of the sofa, pushing her hair back. "So you… You thought—"
"I don't know what I thought! I still don't!" Michelle stressed, also getting up from her seat. "I didn't want to talk about it because it's so confusing, and it's the last thing you need and I'm panicking too—"
"About what?"
"Everything! About… What happened and why? And if you were feeling okay. I should have checked. I— I was scared I'd taken advantage or some—"
Carla let out a volatile laugh, she was smiling but her expression was dangerous. "Of course, yeah, because I forget now my decisions aren't my own anymore." She walked towards the door and threw it open.
"Carla—"
"No you're right Michelle, I actually don't want to talk about it." She snapped.
"Wait, where are you going?" Michelle followed her out, but she had already snatched up her coat and was throwing it over her shoulders.
"Roy's. I'll text Johnny when I'm there safe."
a/n: Thank you for reading! This was super draining to write actually but I just made han listen to me complain and debate over everything so big love & thank you to thelyricsaremystory! I did enjoy how it all came together in the end, and the fluffy parts made up for some of the harder scenes. I'm definitely looking forward to working on what's coming next. Which is a lot more drama…
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