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"There's a place that I know. It's not pretty there and few have ever gone. If I show it to you now, will it make you run away? Or will you stay, even if it hurts, even if I try to push you out will you return?"

Carla stood by the door of her bedroom for a long while that night, inwardly fighting with herself. Eventually, she left the light on and climbed into the comfort of her bed. The dark had always been a welcome friend but tonight it felt more like a fearsome enemy.

The flat looked as though nothing had happened, but it didn't feel like home. Then again, it never had. It didn't have memories within the walls that filled her with a multitude of emotions. The walls didn't sing to her with years of laughter laced with fights and anger and heartache. She couldn't hear Pauls grunts to pass him a cold beer when she opened the door. The buzzer never rang with Liam at the other end, leaving Carla with butterflies in every part of her body. There weren't even marks on the walls where plates had been thrown or glasses smashed in anger.

She missed it. The grief, the pain she had experienced in her old flat. That's the thing about grief, it has a way of fading. You hardly even notice it. One day you think you'll never breathe again but then slowly you learn to live. You almost forget you're missing something and then when you remember it hits you like a tonne of bricks. But then it's not just grief, it's guilt too. Guilt at forgetting, guilt for smiling, for being happy. How can she be happy without them?

The grief made her feel less alone. It reminded her on the darkest days that somebody had loved her once. Twice over. They had loved her enough that their absence took a part of her with them, that once upon a time she had fight in her very being. So she held onto that grief, she kept it close because to feel pain was better than to feel numb. She was different back then, fiery and in control. She wasn't sure even they would love her any more. She had let them down, and now she was letting Peter down too.

She'd pushed him away. Almost as soon as she got home, she asked him to leave. He'd insisted on staying to tidy the place, even suggested he slept on the sofa so she wouldn't feel alone but she had shouted and her sharp tongue sent him packing. Even after how cruelly she spoke to him, he'd sent her a goodnight text and told her he was just a call away. It broke her heart.

"Please Peter you can go now, I'm fine." She watched as he cleared the remainder of the mess up, "I can stay, I don't mind sleeping on the couch, I don't think you should be alone." The way he cared about her almost knocked her barriers straight back down again.

"Please, just go home Peter." She sounded as though she had no fight left and he wished she'd let him cradle her like he had done when he found her, however briefly. "Just go! Don't you get it, I don't want you here. I don't want you. You're not what I want right now. He took me because of you y'know. To get at you. Why do I always get the brunt of everyone else's shit." She banged her hand against the door in anger, "I wish I'd been in the front of that car when Paul died all them years ago. I wish he'd taken me with him." She slammed the door of her bedroom shut and realised as she did she'd never said that aloud. Maybee she hadn't realised just how true that was until now.

Carla pulled the duvet around her neck, letting it swallow her up. She didn't want to be alone, her thoughts were tangled with fears and worries and yet she wouldn't let herself go to Peter. She wouldn't give in to her ache. Her hand found her way to her tummy, stroking the skin softly, instinctively. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to imagine her like nine months from now. Would she be a mum? Was she really cut out for that? Would Peter stay, would he love her and their baby? More than that, would she love their baby?

She shut out her thoughts and curled up closer but her hand never left her non existent bump. She tried to imagine Peter holding her, imagine his arm draped her her tired frame, the sound of his heart lulling her to sleep. She never was very good at pretending.

What scared her the most wasn't what might be lurking in the shadows or who might be waiting to torment her next. What scared her so intensely was how empty she felt inside. Her skin felt hollow, pointless.

She felt alone.

If she had lost this baby too, how would she ever smile again? How could she live when living meant to feel and all she would feel was numb.

Tomorrow she would find out and tomorrow she would go back to him. Maybe Peter could tape her pieces back together.