The following morning in the White bungalow was surprisingly calm. It was 7 o'clock on a Saturday, one hour before Margaret had to go to work. The spindly woman poured herself a cup of raspberry tea, hands shaking slightly as she lifted the cup to her lips. Her back was turned to her daughter, who seemed to be worried. She had good reason. Victor wasn't at the table. She was just about to wonder where he was when Margaret sudden;y spoke.

"Where is he, Carrie?"

Carrie's back straightened and her blue hues widened as she looked to the spot where he would be sitting. Worry gripped the blonde.

"I-I don't know..." she replied honestly. She hadn't seen Victor since earlier that morning, after he'd hugged her and told her to go to bed. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a teacup slamming onto a tea platter. Margaret whipped around, glaring daggers at Carrie. Carrie's breath caught in her throat as the woman skulked closer to her. Her voice was an icy whisper.

"Are you lying child?" The tone belied something threatening.

Carrie's head shook quickly and her lips trembled. "N-No! I promise I'm not! I don't know where he went. I haven't seen him since he went to bed." Her eyes met her mama's then averted then darted back.

Margaret sneered and lifted her hand, which caused Carrie to instinctively flinch. She eyed her daughter for a moment before turning on heel to finish getting ready for work.

The blonde whimpered and slowly opened her eyes when she never felt the sting of a hand on her cheek. She looked around and sucked her lower lip into her mouth as her head withdrew into her shoulders. Tears stung at her eyes. She was alone again? She didn't want to think about that. Victor wouldn't just leave her, right? Not after he said he loved her. Not after they... She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, doing all she could to keep from crying. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't! He said he wouldn't...

"You fool," her subconscious snarked, "you trusted a boy, let him in, and he left you. Pfft. He might be your brother, but that doesn't mean he isn't laughing at you right now wherever he is." Carrie whimpered and shook her head, beginning to rock back and forth. The taunting got louder. "He's no better than those boys at school. He got what he wanted and left. He's laughing. Laughing at yo-"

"Shut UP!" Carrie screamed. Several objects crashed to the floor and the lights above her head exploded. She covered her ears, tears falling in large drops. She paid Margaret no attention when she came running in to see what the noise was. She didn't stop crying, even as she was shaken. Only when she was slapped did she snap out of her stupor. She looked to her mother then briefly to the fallen items and the light up above. Moist blue hues fell on Margaret then shut as she roughly pushed away from her. Carrie made her eyes upstairs. Past her room. Past Victor's. She walked until she was outside the attic door. After wiping at her eyes, she opened the door and scampered in, wanting nothing more than for Victor to come back.

Margaret sat downstairs in the kitchen alone. Her wide eyes examined all that was broken. How in the world... She bit into her lip and began to pray silently. Blood flowed from where her teeth broke the skin. The Devil has begun to work His way into her house. She was sure of it.

Victor seethed and winced as he looked down to his slashed arm. Old and new blood was caked on his pale skin. He had taken care of his back, which was the worst and hardest part. His eye twitched and pain was etched on his features as, one by one, the wounds were forced closed. His breathing came in quick, rapid pants and sweat poured from his brow. Now for the hard part. He took a deep breath and focused. Sizzling lines began to crawl along the closed wounds. He inhaled sharply then screamed as slowly, gradually, his wounds were being burned closed. Several times, he had to stop and catch his breath as the pain became too much. When he was ready, he took another deep breath and continued. This process was time consuming and painful, but after a while, he finally got all of his wounds closed and cauterized. He silently thanked his father for teaching him everything he knew. He used his good arm to wipe the tears and sweat from his face then sighed heavily.

"Crazy bitch..."

He looked from the window of an abandoned house as medical gauze and aloe floated around him. The aloe globbed itself onto his arm and back and the gauze soon followed, wrapping tightly around his torso and the length of his arm. Once he'd told Carrie to go to bed, he waited until he was sure she was sleeping before sneaking out of his window. He wandered to town and, after a bit of searching, found a small pharmacy. Breaking in and taking what he needed was hardly a problem. Once he'd found the items, he came to the house he knew was abandoned. He and Carrie passed it every day walking home from Ewen High.

His mind returned to his younger half-sibling. Maybe he should have told her what he was going to do. His brows furrowed slightly and he gently banged his head against the dilapidated wall his back was rested against. He needed to get back to her. He had no idea what time it was, but the sun was rising. Carrie and Margaret would wake up soon. He glared slightly. Margaret. He tried lifting himself into a stand, but his energy was gone. He'd hardly slept the previous night. A small smirk played on his lips at the fresh memory. Carrie, sweaty and panting beneath him. Victor chuckled and closed his eyes. He would see her again soon enough, but first, he needed to rest. His chuckling faded into silence.

He was asleep for just over an hour when he was awoken by a strong, telekinetic shock. It was mental and came in a sudden, sharp wave that threw his eyes open. Victor pushed away from the wall and stared straight ahead.

"Carrie."

He jolted up into a stand, wincing hard at the pain shooting through his upper body. He ignored his shirt, deciding he'd find another later. He ran from the back of the house and jumped the wooden fence. Dashing through the adjacent back yard, he noticed a line of clothes hanging up. He examined it quickly before running and grabbing a grey polo shirt. He wormed his way into it and shuddered. It was still wet. He threw himself over another fence and was soon running the streets towards Carrie's house. Towards Carrie.

"D'you think we'll catch the guy breakin' into these stores?" the young deputy glanced over to the mustached officer next to him.

The burly man shrugged and took a long sip of coffee. "Probably. Probably not. It's pretty petty, I mean, all the guy took was some medical gauze and aloe cream." He went to take another sip of coffee, only to stop as he saw someone running by on the other side of the street. Gauze was wrapped around his arm. He set his cup down and started the car. "That might be our guy. No one got a good look at him though." He turned the sirens on and began to drive.

Victor glanced back to see a police car gaining. He didn't want to stop. He didn't. He turned forward and tensed, eye twitching.

"Should we tell him to stop?" the deputy asked.

"This guy's runnin' so obviously he's got something to hide. Don't worry. Kid can't outrun a cop ca-holy shit!" The officer slammed on the breaks as the hood was torn from the car. Both he and the deputy scrambled for their seat belts as the engine was wrenched from the vehicle and slammed into the windshield before being thrown onto the road. The deputy trembled then squealed as the engine soon after caught fire. He ducked behind the car, shaking, as the older officer stared at the engine then Victor's back, which was gone when he rounded a corner. "What... What in God's holy name..." With shaking hands, he reached into the car and turned on the radio, beginning to signal the other cops. "A-All units. Be on the lookout for a suspect. He's-gah!" The small talk box exploded, causing minor burns to the officer's mouth.

Victor peeled his injured back from the wooden fence and sighed before continuing to Carrie's house.

The trip took him almost forty-five minutes, but eventually, he'd made it. Margaret's car wasn't in the driveway so he assumed she had gone to work. He tried the doorknob and when he noticed it was locked, he flicked his wrist and waited a moment before trying again. He turned the knob and went inside, laughing to himself. Who needs keys? He wandered through the house, but stopped when he was in the dining area. The light above the table and several objects were broken. It must have happened when he felt that shock. Victor frowned and called out for her.

"Carrie!" He waited for a moment, but there was no response. He started to panic but he went through the house. "Carrie!" He checked her room but found nothing. His brows furrowed and his heart began to beat more erratically. "Carrie! You're here, right?" His voice broke just the tiniest bit. Margaret wouldn't have taken her somewhere right? Carrie didn't do anything. Victor groaned. He'd hate himself forever if something had happened to Carrie because of him.

Carrie sat, curled up in her little alcove in the attic, allowing tears to stream down her cheeks. Victor was gone. Of course he was gone! He only wanted to use her and laugh. Just like everyone else. He made her feel special. She trusted him. Her mother was just a reason for him to leave. Her fingers clenched against her ears and the tears flowed more quickly. Why?! Why would he leave and not tell her?! He said he wouldn't leave her... Why would he-

"Carrie..."

Her eyes snapped open. From where she was, the voice was faint. It sounded again.

"Carrie...!" It was closer this time. Carrie sat, stunned for a moment, before she gasped and quickly scrambled to her feet. She pushed her way through the attic, towards the door.

"Carrie! You're here right...?"

She pushed through the attic door just in time to see her brother's back. He was walking towards the stairs. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she stared. He came back. She watched him turn and saw his face light up. She stood, motionless as he dashed towards her and wrapped her in as tight a hug as he could manage. Her body moved automatically. Her arms locked around his waist and she pressed her cheek to his chest. His chin rested on her head. The way the two were hugging, one would think they'd been separated for much longer than a mere few hours.

Victor felt his shirt get wet with tears. He buried his face into golden tresses and tenderly kissed at her scalp. She squeezed him, which caused his upper body to mildly protest, but he ignored it and let her do what she pleased. After what seemed like an eternity, Carrie pulled away enough to look at her brother. Her eyes were glassy. Her voice was husky from crying.

"Wh-Why did y-you leave...?"

"Because," he wiped at her eyes, "if I was here when Margaret woke up, it'd be a lot harder to convince her that last night was only just a dream. Plus, I had to be somewhere quiet to take care of the knife wounds she gave me." He shuddered and shook his head. "Not a pleasant experience." He noticed Carrie looking to his wrapped right arm. He gently pulled away from her to pull up the shirt, revealing his wrapped torso. "It's my upper back that got it the worst." He lowered his shirt and shrugged, quickly drawing her back into another embrace.

Carrie whimpered and clenched her eyes shut. Her voice sounded quietly, "I'm sorry... F-For what she did."

Victor waved a hand dismissively and shook his head saying, "Don't worry about it." He kissed her forehead and finally turned his attention to the now half opened attic door. "So, you wanna tell me about that place there?"

She whipped her head around to look to the attic door. As much as she trusted Victor before, she still didn't tell him about her little place in the attic. She took his hand and led him through the threshold of the door.

"This um... This is where I go to escape my mama and the world sometimes."

"What do you do in here?" Victor asked.

"I usually come up here to read or make small accessories," she led him to her alcove and sat him on her small makeshift chair before taking a seat in his lap, "or even just think and forget about life. It's my little haven." She leaned back against him and closed her eyes.

Victor nodded understandingly and shifted his position slightly before he locked his arms around her. He watched as Carrie levitated a large photo album as well as several pictures over. He smiled, impressed. Her telekinesis had gotten considerably stronger. She set the pictures down at her feet and opened the album. There were lots of pictures of her mother and father and grandparents, both maternal and paternal. His chin rested on her head as they looked over and commented on the various pictures. Ralph seemed far more amused in his pictures than Margaret did. Carrie was in very few and Victor even less so. Margaret hated cameras. Eventually they began laughing, which turned to talking, which caused the two to discover even more about each other. He learned more about her hopes and dreams, the biggest of which was that she would like to have her own little dress shop once she grew old enough. Being her older brother, he told her that he'd help her try to keep that dream alive. The conversation eventually faded and the two sat in silence. Victor's hand traced Carrie's stomach through her clothing and the two would share the occasional kiss. These kisses were nothing like the previous night's. They were innocent and almost shy. He gently took her hand in his and looked down to her.

"I love you," he said softly.

Carrie leaned up to brush her nose to his before she said, just as softly, "I love you too."

Margaret stared at the blood red cocktail dress and tuxedo in front of her. The dress was rather revealing. Her mouth twitched as the thread knife cut into her pale flesh. Blood beaded and slid down slowly. She dabbed her finger in the trail and exhaled shakily as she blotted her finger lightly to the lapel of the tuxedo then on the strap of the dress.

"May God watch over these sinners," she whispered, "let Him show them the way or may they be cast into the lake of fire for all eternity."

The sound of a bell dinging out front alerted her to the presence of customers. Undoubtedly the ones who ordered the blood red ensemble. With a twitchy lip, she picked up the clothes by their hangers and set them into plastic protective covers. Blood and fire! Margaret clenched her jaw and jerked the clothes up, turning on heel to bring them to their owners.

The Godless heathens will burn. Burn forever.