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The Chariot Square Hotel. Carla’s never had any complaints. The restaurant serves quality food, the bar is always top notch, the conference facilities are more than adequate, the spa is to die for, the rooms are comfortable, and the staff is exactly how you’d want them to be. The bed she was lying in now certainly beat her accommodations for the past few weeks.
She was safe. She was free. She was exhausted.
She was wide awake.
She’d fallen into a restless sleep not too long ago, but the nightmares had woken her up. No stranger to bad dreams, Carla had certainly had some doozies over the years with her traumatic experiences, but this was different. She dreamed of her family, their bodies broken and shattered, lying dead while still wearing their seatbelts.
Lisa and Betsy.
When her and Kit pulled up on the accident scene the night before she had never been more terrified in her entire life. Before her brain could even catch up, she was out the car and running. Running towards Lisa. Running towards Betsy. As if there was any way she could possibly save them. When their vehicle was struck the second time she was sure that was it. They were both so deathly still. Betsy in the backseat, her head turned to the side, eyes closed, wound on her forehead. Lisa in the front passenger’s seat, head hanging forward and to the side, her body held in place by the seatbelt, cuts all over her face.
In Carla’s dream that was it. They were both dead.
It was so shocking, she bolted upright in bed screaming, struggling to get air in her lungs. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, but it took a few moments to fully remember where she was and why she was there. Ever since then she’d just been sitting there, crying, trying to remind herself that they were fine. Lisa and Betsy were fine. They weren’t dead. They’d survived.
But her brain wouldn’t let her fear rest. What if they weren’t fine? They’d both been checked out at the hospital, but what if the doctors missed something? It was busy, chaotic, there were a lot of patients to be seen. What if they’d missed something on one of their scans, something serious. What if one of them has a more serious head wound than they thought? A brain bleed? Carla knew how serious those were, how you could feel just fine and then end up on the floor.
She was picturing Betsy lying down in her bed, closing her eyes and never waking up. What if Lisa got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and collapsed dead in the kitchen?
Carla’s body shook with anxious energy and her vision blurred as she continued to sob, her knees coming up to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them to try to comfort herself. She closed her eyes tightly, but the visions behind her eyelids wouldn’t go away.
She’d been held against her will for weeks, tormented by Becky’s sick, evil taunts. She’d barely been given enough food and water to survive on and, eventually, the other woman stopped giving her the life saving meds she needed to take on a daily basis. When she was moved from that flat to the shipping container, she knew that was that. Becky wasn’t coming back for her. She was just going to let her die, her body giving out from lack of water, food, meds, take your pick. It would’ve been one of those.
But she didn’t die. She’d come close, though it was hard to say who came closer, her or Lisa and Betsy. In the end, Carla decided she didn’t care what happened to her, as long as her girls were safe. Maybe that’s why her nightmare had been about them and not some dark, tight space where the walls were closing in on her.
She rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to erase the images, the real ones and the ones from her dream. They were becoming interchangeable now with what her imagination was conjuring up about what could be going on at Number 6 tonight. Was Betsy okay? Would she wake up in the morning? Was Lisa lying dead on the kitchen floor like her imagination had suggested?
The unknowing was too much.
Flipping the sheets off of her, Carla got out of bed and threw on a pair of joggers and a hoodie, laced her trainers on her feet, grabbed her keys, and marched out of her hotel room with a purpose. She needed to lay eyes on them. She needed to make sure they were alive. It was the only way she was getting to sleep tonight.
Carla’s heart was pounding in her chest when she approached the front door. This wasn’t her home anymore, but there were pieces of her inside and probably always would be. Plus, she still had her key. There were no lights on. They were probably asleep, she thought to herself. Still, she couldn’t stop from putting the key in the lock, turning it, and opening the door to step inside.
The first thing she saw when she stepped into the living room was the back of Lisa’s head and shoulders from where she was sat on the sofa. It momentarily started her. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be up. But Lisa didn’t move an inch when she came in and, even though Carla had tried to make as little noise as possible, she would still have expected anyone sitting that close to the door to be able to hear her.
“Lisa?” she whispered softly, heart in her throat. Carla walked around the sofa and saw that Lisa’s eyes were closed, her head tilted forward as though she couldn’t lift it any higher. She was probably just asleep, Carla told herself, but the agony of her nightmare lingered and she needed to make sure.
Kneeling close to her but not touching, Carla looked for the rise and fall of her chest to indicate she was still breathing. She was.
Carla sat back on her heals and took a deep breath, hanging her head in relief. She knew she was probably being stupid, paranoid. But, she thought she deserved to be a little paranoid for the time being. After everything.
She closed her eyes for a few moments while her breathing steadied, her hands still in fists at her sides. She loosened them and placed her palms on her thighs as she prepared to stand, but movement caught her eyes when she opened them and she raised her head. Lisa was awake and looking back at her.
“I’m dreaming,” Lisa said softly. Carla was caught in her sleepy stare and found she couldn’t respond right away. She watched as Lisa blinked and moved slightly, wincing at the pain in her sore body. It was in that moment that Lisa realised she was indeed awake, looking back at Carla with wonder in her eyes.
“You’re here? You’re really here?” she said, hopeful.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Carla said, feeling like an intruder. She didn’t move. Lisa didn’t move. It was like they were stuck in a moment they couldn’t or wouldn’t get out of. Carla looked at her, really looked at her. The cuts. The bruises. She closed her eyes against the flash memory of Lisa unresponsive in the crushed car and opened them again when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here,” Carla started to explain.
“This is your home,” Lisa said without thinking, without considering that maybe Carla didn’t feel like this was her home anymore. That maybe Carla didn’t want it to be her home anymore.
“Is it?” Carla asked, then she shook her head as if shaking off the thoughts that followed. “I just…I had to see,” she tried to explain.
Lisa nodded, her face softening. She knew. She didn’t need any more explanation than that. She already knew. It was why she had fallen asleep sitting up on the sofa in the first place. Having been unable to sleep in her bed…their bed…she came downstairs and fell into a light sleep on the sofa where she dreamed of Carla, picturing her bound and gagged, locked up and being tormented by Becky. She’d woken up gasping. After that, Lisa had sat up and decided to just stare into the darkness the rest of the night, alone with her thoughts. She must have drifted off.
“I’m going to go check on Betsy,” Carla announced as she finally stood, her bones aching as she did so. She wasn’t sure how much of that was just the aging process and how much was because she had been tied up for so long.
Lisa nodded and watched her make for the stairs and head up to Betsy’s room. She understood what Carla was doing, of course she did. She herself had popped her head into Betsy’s room before coming downstairs earlier. Watching the rise and fall of her breathing was a comfort. She was glad the teen had been able to sleep at all. It was going to be a long time before that kid trusted anything again, before they could go back to some sort of normal, if they ever could.
“She still asleep?” Lisa asked when Carla came back down.
“Yeah,” she said. “I just needed to check,” Carla tried to explain, though to her ears it didn’t really explain much of anything. Still, Lisa didn’t ask for more, apparently understanding completely.
“Carla, I…” Lisa started to say, standing up and facing her, the sofa between them.
“I know,” Carla said. “I do know.” She knew. She knew Lisa was sorry. She knew Lisa would do things differently if she had the chance to do it all again. She knew Lisa had regrets. She knew Lisa would never have slept with Becky if she hadn’t already believed it was over. She even knew there was manipulation at play, that Becky was the puppet master and Lisa and Betsy were both also victims in this. She knew. But she still needed time.
“Goodnight,” Carla said as she walked out the door, sparing one last glance at Lisa, who smiled sadly at her and watched her leave.
The nightmares continued for the both of them after that, although that was to be expected. Carla returned to Number 6 the next three nights in a row. Lisa had been on the sofa each time, as if she knew to expect her. The brunette would let herself in, smile at Lisa as the sight of her was reassuring, then head up to check on Betsy. She would leave once she was satisfied that all was well, that they were both alive and breathing. Each time, Lisa hoped she would stay, but she never did.
On the fourth night after the first one, Lisa sent Carla a text message. A picture of Betsy tucked in her bed, sleeping, with a message that said “We’re all safe and sound over here, but please feel free to come over and check for yourself. Maybe we could have some tea and talk? Or we don’t have to talk at all. Just to share the same space with you would be enough to settle the nightmares for me.”
It made Carla’s heart stutter and before she knew what she was doing she was standing in front of the house feeling full of nervous energy. She let herself in like always. Lisa was sitting on the sofa in the silence, waiting. She turned to look at Carla and nodded.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” she said, getting up and walking to the kitchen. Carla took her coat off and laid it over the banister. She made her way to the kitchen, watching the way Lisa’s shoulders stiffened as she made their tea. She sat at the kitchen island, hands folded in her lap until Lisa brought the mugs over and sat opposite her.
“Thanks,” Carla said, hands wrapping around her mug to feel its warmth. “So, you’ve been having nightmares, too?”
Lisa nodded, feeling the lump in her throat grow.
“It was a horrific car crash, Lise, it must have been terrifying,” Carla reasoned, trying to make the other woman feel better about not being able to rest easy even though it was all over.
“It was,” Lisa said. “A lot of it’s a blur, to be honest. I remember headlights and I remember not being able to move and thinking, this is it, you know? I thought that was it.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “But, Carla that’s not what my nightmares have been about.”
Carla looked confused for a second, then said, “Oh. Becky, then?”
“Sort of, but no not directly,” Lisa answered. “When I go to sleep I dream about…” she swallowed against the lump in her throat, her eyes watering. “You. I dream about you being scared, alone, dying before anyone could get to you. Before I even realised you were taken. You could’ve died and I…” Lisa’s voice broke.
“It’s not your fault,” Carla assured her. Normally she would say that kind of thing just to make someone feel better, but she found herself believing it.
“Of course it’s my fault,” Lisa insisted.
“Listen,” Carla leaned her elbows on the island. “I don’t really want to get into who’s to blame and who isn’t right now if that’s alright?”
Lisa nodded and bit her tongue, her desire to take all the blame, to take all the pain, on the tip of it. She wanted to be punished for her ignorance, for her lack of faith in Carla and how Carla had tried to warn her. She wanted Carla to lash out at her. She knew she deserved it.
“I’ve been having nightmares about the crash,” Carla admitted. Lisa wasn’t surprised. The way the factory owner had been showing up in recent nights, her desire to check in on them, it made sense.
“Only in them, you and Betsy, you don’t make it,” Carla said, sadly, feeling as though her heart was bleeding all over herself. “There were moments that night where I thought you hadn’t.”
Lisa looked at her, really looked at her, and could see that the pain she was carrying wasn’t all about Becky or the kidnapping or the deterioration of their relationship. It was so much more.
“Tell me,” Lisa said, hoping that Carla would open up, share what she was thinking and feeling.
“When Kit and I first got there I thought you were dead. You weren’t moving. Neither of you,” Carla wiped at a tear on her cheek as she spoke, looking down into the cooling tea in her mug. “Then the minibus nearly hit you and Kit pulled me out of the way. But a second vehicle came and pushed the bus into you. God, I thought…” Carla wiped at more of her tears while Lisa watched from the other side of the kitchen island, desperately wanting to comfort her.
“I remember that,” she said. “I remember hearing you yelling. I opened my eyes and I saw it. Headlights. You. The bus flipped and I couldn’t see you anymore. I tried to call out for you, but it was like no sound was coming out. Then it all very quickly went black again.”
“When your car got hit the second time I couldn’t imagine you surviving,” Carla said. “And you were so still, so very still. Your head was dropped off to the side and I thought…well, you looked dead. But I chose to focus on Bets, you know she was coming to and I knew she was the priority. James helped me get her out through the window.”
Lisa started crying thinking about how scared Betsy must have been. She made a mental note to thank James the next time she saw him.
“And then the fire,” Carla said. “Lisa, you would be dead now if we hadn’t been able to move the car out of the way. All of those people, some we knew but some that were complete strangers, they all helped. When I took your hand and you looked at me…I’d never been so relieved in my entire life.”
Lisa, head tilted and tears in her eyes, looked at her, reliving the moment from her own perspective. She choked on a sob and covered her eyes, her shoulders shaking as she remembered the relief, Carla and Betsy looking at her through the car window. The relief at knowing she was alive, that they were alive. She had been terrified, but she walked away. They all did. Everyone except for Billy.
Lisa found she couldn’t control her sobs now that she’d allowed them to break free. She tried to apologise, but couldn’t speak, a hand still covering her eyes as she slumped forward. Very suddenly and unexpectedly, she found herself wrapped in a warm embrace, Carla’s arms pulling her in. It made her cry even harder, her head slotted against the brunette’s shoulder, face in her neck. She didn’t deserve this comfort.
“You shouldn’t be comforting me, Carla, I don’t deserve it,” she said.
“Shhhh,” was all Carla said in response, her hand holding Lisa’s head against her. It may be too soon, and she still needed time, but it felt right to hold her like this. That meant something. At the end of the day, the love was still there. That absolutely meant something.
“Are we going to get through this?” Lisa asked, her sobs subsiding.
“I think this is a good start,” Carla said. She wasn’t going to say yes or no at this point, but the hope was there. She wanted Lisa to know that the hope was there.
They stayed like that for a while, Lisa wrapping her arms around Carla as they held each other. Eventually, Carla became overwhelmed and pulled back, giving Lisa a smile as she put her mug in the sink and said goodnight. Lisa asked if they could talk more later and Carla nodded on her way out the door.
It felt like the beginning of something and perhaps it was. Maybe this was how it all started, their way back to each other.