"Anne, just put the knife down." Carla quivered, watching this older, unpredictable woman stand in front of her with a sharp kitchen knife.
"I can still remember the sound of the smashing glass, and then him falling..."
"...I killed Frank."
Anne's confession was circling through Carla's mind so fast, she couldn't concentrate. Franks mum had killed him? The woman seemed all talk, wouldn't really touch a fly. But now she was stood in front of her, holding a kitchen knife and threatening to wound her with it. She could have three deaths on her conscious; Frank, Sally and Carlas.
But another thing that took Carla's breath away was the harsh stinging pain going through the palm of her left hand. Anne had gotten frightened and defensive when Carla tried to take the knife away, resulting in - what looked like - a superficial wound. It bled a lot and was hurting her but she knew she'd be okay. It was what could come after that worried her more.
Anne was ignoring Carla's pleas, instead, she was dangling the knife in front of her still whilst talking about Frank.
It seemed like she'd completely lost her mind, at this rate she wasn't making any sense. Loud, uncontrollable sobs escaped the older woman's lips as she tried explaining the story.
Carla almost felt sorry for her; Anne seemed so hurt by the crime she'd committed. But Carla was so thankful she'd killed him. But no matter the history of Carla and the Fosters, she felt a lot of sympathy for her and didn't wish this kind of upset for her.
"And I felt his wrist, and I couldn't find a pulse. It was then I realised what I'd done."
"I'd killed my own son!"
I didn't mean too. I loved him so much."
Tears filled Carla's eyes as she tried reassuring Anne that it wasn't her fault, but it seemed an impossible task as Anne carried on shouting in anguish and brought the knife up to Carla if she tried to step closer, although she just wanted to comfort the woman.
"I know, Anne. I know." She croaked. "It wasn't your fault. The police will understand that!"
"No, no, no, I can't! I can't go to the police!"
"Anne, you have to," Carla said. "You can't live with this. I'll come with you, I will explain, they will understand. Okay? They will, I promise. Please just give me the knife."
Anne started letting her barriers go down, she inhaled and exhaled deeply and watched as Carla slowly made her way towards her. Her eyes not leaving the younger woman's frame.
Finally, Carla had her on side and could get the knife off of her. Then she could get help for Sally and escape from this mess.
Just as Carla stood right in front of her, Anne raised her head and gave an icy look at Carla.
All sobs, harsh breaths and remorse had disappeared and that's when Carla got an unsettling feeling.
"This is all your fault."
"What?" Before Carla had time to even process what was going on, Anne implanted the knife into Carla's abdomen and stood back.
As she pulled the knife out, Carla's breath hitched sharply. Her eyes widening and filling with tears.
The first thing Carla registered was the feeling of warm red liquid, coating her top and her hands as it dripped to the floor.
The next thing Carla noticed was the pain. The excruciating, sickening pain that overpowered her entire body. It was too much to bare. Her knees buckled beneath her and she fell onto the floor, unable to support herself.
One bloody hand was flat against the floor boards whilst the other went across the slash on her stomach. Her head was leant forward, chin to her chest and her eyes were squeezed shut.
Anne stared in total shock, she still held the knife which now had Carla's blood all over it. She looked as if she was feral, her lip was twitching and her eyes were so wide and evil looking.
What had she just done? She could not be a serial killer, all because of Frank.
"Anne..." Carla whispered, wheezing. "W-why...did you...do t-this?"
"I don't know." Anne mumbled, reality beginning to set in. "It was like my body wasn't my own anymore...I don't know."
"Get help..." Carla cried, now unable to support herself so she crumbled the the floor.
She just found the slightest bit of energy to push herself on the floor and to lean against drawers.
Both hands pressed down onto her stomach, it scared her how her hands were completely red now and how her blood-covered top clung to her body.
"No, I will go to prison." She shook her head, adamant she was not letting Sally or Carla get any help.
"Please..." Carla painfully exhaled. "This isn't you...Anne. T-think about what you're doing."
Anne's mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to come up with a response. She knew she stabbed Carla out of emotion and unpredictability, she didn't mean too. Something was going on mentally and it overwhelmed her, consumed her.
"Y-you can't help Frank now but you can...you can help me...and Sal." She added, talking become a huge challenge.
"It's too late for that." Anne swallowed.
"No...it's not." Carla breathed, shallowly. "You're a good p-person."
"I'm a bad person. I've killed my own son. I've killed my friend and I've killed his rape victim."
"It's not too late to...to change." Carla murmured.
"No more." Anne scrunched her face up in despair, unable to watch the life drain out of Carla.
Outside Anne's house, Kevin and Peter park up and race out of the car.
Kevin had originally gone to the pub to look for Sally, who'd actually gone to Anne's house. He had been asking about when he found Peter arguing with Leanne at the bar.
"Have any of you seen Sally?" Kevin asked, tutting as Peter and Leanne carried on bickering.
"No, Peter! You're out of order. You're a pathetic drunk and as for Carla-..." Leanne ranted.
"Can you two have your domestic later," Kevin groaned. "Have you seen Sally?"
"I think she went back with Anne. Bless her, she got so upset at the service apparently and had to go early." Stella pipped up.
"Oh no..." Kevin exhaled, going to exit the pub when Peter grabbed his forearm.
"Is everything alright, mate?"
"No. I just have a bad feeling about Sal. That Anne Foster is bad news, I need to get over there." He explained, rushing out the pub.
Peter narrowed his eyes, following Kevin out of the pub.
"I'll come with you."
"You?" Kevin frowned. "What's this got to do with you?"
"I know how bad Anne is, I've not been Sally's biggest fan recently but it's safer for me to come along."
"Kev, how are we going to get in?" Peter scrunched his face up, looking at the rather large house.
The streets were gloomy, with it being cold and late, they couldn't see much of their surroundings. This made the window at the front of the house very forefront. The light was on, the pair could see very clearly inside...and it immediately concerned them.
"Peter..." Kevin mumbled, walking closer to the window and seeing Carla hunched over on the floor and clutching at her stomach, her hand a deep red colour whilst her skin was chalk white and clammy. "Peter! We need to go inside!"
"Wha-..." Peter frowned, walking up to the window and stopping dead in his tracks.
"Carla!" He shouted, making his way to the front door.
"Shh!" Kevin grabbed his arm, turning the distressed man so he was facing him. "Do you really think banging on that door shouting all sorts is going to help her? Anne has lost her head! We need to get in somehow, without her knowing!"
"I should've gone with her. Why didn't I ask her where she was going!" Peter cried. "First Frank, now this..."
"Save all this for later. We need to get in there."
"The garage..." Peter murmured. "Go through the garage!"
The two men worked on opening the garage door before carefully walking through. To their luck, the door connected to the house was unlocked so they slipped in easy.
They walked through the hallway, and stopped at the open door where they could see Carla, who at this point kept losing consciousness as she wheezed and lay next to the set of drawers on the floor.
Giving eachother a look, Kevin stepped nearer to Anne, ready to grab hold of the knife that she'd just left on the table next to her. Peter was getting ready to make his way to his lover, to hold her in his arms and reassure her that it'll all be okay.
Before they had a chance to go to Carla's rescue, they overheard Anne talking - motionlessly - on how she'd killed her son. How she was now going to kill Sally and Carla.
Kevin looked over at Peter, panic written all over his face.
In a daze, Carla's eyes fluttered shut. She knew she couldn't close them. Not yet. She had to fight until she couldn't any longer. She couldn't let a Foster win. As she forced her lids open, that's when she saw him.
She would've let out a gasp if she could, but she had no energy. She believed she was hallucinating for a second, seeing her soulmate before she was brutally ripped away from him altogether.
When suddenly, she heard Anne yell and then she felt him...
His securing arms wrapping around her. His soft kiss planted on her forehead. The soft reassuring voice.
"You're gonna be okay, baby. You're gonna be okay." He repeated, placing her head on his lap before looking up at Kevin. "Call an ambulance!"
"What have you done to Sally!" Kevin screamed as Anne crumbled beneath him.
"Kevin, call an ambulance! She's bleeding out!" He yelled, crying out as Carla loses consciousness once more.
"Okay, okay..." Kevin muttered, getting his phone out of his back pocket and calling them. As the call goes through, he makes his way round the house in search for Sally.
"What have you done! Was your son raping her not enough! Did you have to kill her too?" Peter shouted, watching the older woman slide down the wall as she violently sobbed and gave in to her fate.
"Carla, baby." He whispered, gently stroking her cheek. "Wake up for me. Show me that you're still awake."
After a couple of seconds, Carla makes a very quiet moan.
"I love you, Car. You hold on. I need you."
"P-P...Pe..." She murmured, inaudibly.
"You don't have to talk if it's painful, love. Just keep your eyes open." He replied, swallowing a sob that threatened to overtake him.
"I...I...love...y-y..."
"I love you too, baby. I love you so much." He interrupted, knowing what she was meaning to say.
"Sal's up here! She's unconscious!" Kevin yelled from upstairs.
"What have you done, Anne?" Peter stared in the cold eyes of hers, desperate for answers.
"I don't know," Anne quivered. "I-It just happened!"
"Oh yeah, that makes it alright then!" He sneered, sobbing when he heard Carla's raspy breaths as she hung on life by a thread.
"Hey, baby, you can't go yet. Remember all those plans we have. All those places we need to visit. You said you'd take me to LA, to meet Susie and show me the casino and your favourite beach there. I told you I'd take you on a boat and we'd sail the Caribbean. And we were going to move weren't we? Somewhere where we could make happy memories, just the two of us. You've got to stay for that, love. I'll look like an idiot going alone!" He sobbed, watching Carla's lips faintly smile.
"Y-you'll...look like an...idiot e-either way..." she whispered, weakly.
"Oi you." He laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Hey, do you hear that? The paramedics and police are now, baby. You're going to be alright." He added as the crew raced to Carla and Sally's aid.
"I promise you, you'll be alright." He reassured her.
And he was right.
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