It was just a sandwich. Whole grain bread. No butter, a slice of ham and lettuce leaves and a smear of mustard , cut in half, and a cup of coffee, black, veside it. Roy had sat her down, on the table hidden away abs placed the plate in front of her. That was thirty minutes ago.

She tried to relax her rigid body, taking in slow, deep breaths. You can do this, she whispered to herself. But she felt the nausea roll in and the sensitivity in the back of her throat, that feeling that she was about to be sick. She glared at the sandwich, willing it to appetize her, but instead her mouth went dry and the familiar dizzy feeling returned, her heart racing.

She leaned forward and examined the sandwich with a scrutiny she knew was unnecessary. She knew she needed to eat it but her hands wouldn't respond. They sat tensed, one on each knee, palm down, knuckles white, fingers curled. She wished Roy had given her something else, Soup, Fruit salad. Just the cup of coffee

She swallowed the tingling in the back of her throat and finally reached out to pick up half the sandwich. The spongy bread squished underneath her fingers, taking a bite with her eyes closed, and she knew it was pitifully small, but it was the best she could do. The sandwich dropped back on the plate, eyelids squeezing shut. Her teeth squished the bread, crushed the meat, sharp mustard scraped across her unsuspecting taste buds, the wad of mashed up bread and meat and condiments went to the back of her throat and she forced it past the twitching muscles trying to push it back the other way, once then twice until it had definitely gone down her throat, sliding down slowly, her stomach gurgling at the unwanted disturbance

"Carla?" It was Gary. A welcome distraction from what sat in front of her "Can I have a word? "

"Sure" she smiled, pushing the plate away from her

"I've tried to find Nick, with Sarah being in hospital and all..."

"What's wrong? " She asked, confused as Gary reached from his pocket

"Bethany, she was at the gym today and I found these on her" he sighed, passing her the contents of his pocket

"Diet pills?"

"She was with some of her mates, you know what young girls are like with how they look"

"Right... " Carla trailed off, examining the small bottle that her hand tightly gripped. She was slightly aware that Gary was still speaking to her. Her mind was racing, her breathe catches at her chest and makes her throat tighten. A muscle twitches in her jaw.

"...Anyway, if you could just let Nick know?"

"Oh, yeah, course" Carla murmured, getting to her feet and scraping the chair along the floor as she rushes towards the cafe door, glancing back at Gary and giving him a small nod as she pulls the door open.

The rain lashes down as she marches towards the factory, the raindrops sting as it hits her uncovered skin harshly. She rubs a hand up and down her arm, trying to will some heat into herself as she quickens her pace. Finally she reached her destination as she grabbed the cold metal handles, pulling the door towards herself, relishing the rush of heat that hits her

"Mrs Connor? " Carla inwardly rolled her eyes at the sight of Sally, she had hoped everyone would be on their lunch break by now

"Sally, why are you still here" She didn't mean to snap, she just wanted to be alone

"I forgot my bag " Sally replies, looking at Carla with a mix of confusion and concern as she takes on her form. Carla's hair is dripping wet, her arms small and thin with a slight blue tinge

"Let me make you a cup of coffee " Sally smiled as she places her bag on the nearest chair

"No" Carla snaps again "Go. Tell everyone they can have the afternoon off. I have things to do "

"Carla..."

"It's Mrs Connor, I'm still your boss you know"

"Right. Of course " Sally dropped her gaze away from the woman she barely recognised in front of her "See you soon Mrs Connor " She added sadly as she pulled the factory door open, Carla followed behind her as she pulled the door closed behind her, locking both doors before swiftly making her way towards the office, she spots a discarded cardigan she had long left hanging on the back of her chair, Its navy colour shines a little underneath the glow of the soft lamp, she quickly grabs it as she wraps it tightly around herself, it hadn't fitted her when she wore it for a few months and it now drowns her, but she relishes the warmth it gives her, she places her hands into the pockets and finds a simple black hair band which she uses to pull the wet hair that is now sticking to her neck and pulls it up into a messy bun as she pulls her chair out and collapses into it.

She let's out a little breath and rubs a tired hand across her face, turning her attention to one of the drawers of her desk, taking the key, which thankfully she had kept in her bag she inserted it and tugged the drawer open. A small bottle of whisky sits upon folders stuffed with loose paperwork. Carla pulls it out as she unscrews the lid, instinctively taking a gulp of the smooth liquid that instantly burns her throat, the familiar warmth hits her stomach. She reaches for a glass and knocks her bag which she left open laying on her desk, the contents spill across the desk but only one thing catches her eye as she reaches for the small container which she rolls between her fingers with a frown, she glances over at the door, half expecting Nick to be standing there with that disappointed look on his face. The uncontrollable terror hits her that she may have finally lost him forever, the feelings blow up inside her like a hurricane. She thought she would be alone forever, and foolishly thought she would be OK with that, but then Nick came along, and now she got too close and she doesn't know how to carefully balance the delicacy of her feelings for Nick along with her own fearful ones about herself. Carla starts panicking because she doesn't want to lose him, but she needs the control and she feels so annoyed with herself for letting this situation spiral far in the first place.

She pops the lid of the container open and lets the small round pills lay in the palm of her hand for a while, they are tiny yet weigh her hand down, she knows that it's just the guilt and shame of what she has stooped to. She picks one of them up and slowly places it between her lips before reaching for the bottle of whisky and letting the pill slide down her throat along with the golden amber liquid. She leans back into her chair, a handful of the elicit diet pills in one hand, the bottle in the other as she sighs and closes her eyes before shoving the pills into her mouth and takes a few large gulps of drink. Hate rose up in her throat like bile, burning its way up so forcefully she almost choked