There are all kinds of people in the world. Those that are good, and those that are evil. Those that live by the way of God, and those that revel in the sins of Humanity and of the Devil himself. It is said that there is no way to be in between. You live for one, or you live for the other. Those who are said not to care at all for either will inevitably burn in hell anyway. Be a good child and the blessings of God will always fall upon you. Be bad, and the fires of hell will forever engulf your eternal soul.
"Bullshit..."
The heavy door swung open, casting light onto the burly figure on the ground. He sneered. Though he couldn't see, he knew who was there. *They* were coming again. Why he didn't burn the place to the ground, even he didn't know. Maybe one day. One day soon...
Carrie White swallowed hard and hurried from her mother's vehicle. It was another incredibly rough day at school that she just wanted to forget. And to think, she had one more torturous year to sit through. The name calling, hurtful words, mean spirited pranks. The shy blond whimpered as tears stung at her eyes. She wanted to run to her room and just hide from the world, but her mother's voice stopped her.
"Carrie!" Margaret half shouted.
Carrie snapped from her thoughts and straightened up, stiff as a board. She turned to face her mother, who was standing in the doorway.
"Y-Yes Mama...?" She wiped at her moist eyes and heavily exhaled.
"Go put your things away. It's time for you to forget those kids and pray." Margaret's tone was fairly authoritative, though she didn't expect and kind of hesitation or reluctance.
"Yes Mama..." Carrie turned on heel and scaled the stairs to her room.
Once inside the small room, the shy girl dropped her bag on her bed and sat, somewhat curled into herself. She shook with unshed sobs and turned her eyes towards the small nativity statue on her dresser. Her eyes trained on the baby Jesus, which caused her lower lip to quiver.
"Where are you...?" She whispered with a shaky voice. The sharp sound of her mother's voice caused her to jump and hurriedly push into a stand.
Carrie scampered down the stairs and joined her mother in the living room. Margaret was kneeling in the midst of several candles. A statue of the crucified Jesus was in the center. Carrie knelt down in front of Margaret and the statue and bowed her head. She held her hands forward and tensed only slightly when she felt her mother's cold grasp. She closed her eyes as her mother began to speak.
"Our Father, which art in Heaven, hollowed be thy name..."
The prayer session lasted several long hours, as usual. Most of the candles had either burned out or were very low. When Carrie stood, she grimaced as her aching muscles protested to the movement.
"I'm going to take a bath," she told Margaret.
The older woman didn't look up or even open her eyes, only acknowledging her daughter with a near silent "hm" sound.
Carrie swallowed quietly and turned to head up to the bathroom. Once there, she turned on the water and grabbed a towel. Dull blue hues watched clear water fill the tub. Her mind wandered. To where? Various places. Anywhere to escape reality. While just thinking, her body was on autopilot. She removed her clothing and set the towel down before she climbed into the heated water. Carrie's eyes closed as she let her mind wander forward and her body cleanse itself.
After twenty-five minutes in the bath, Carrie got out and dried herself off. Wrapping up in the towel, she meandered to her room and dressed herself in a pure white night gown. She glanced to her bed, but wasn't yet tired, so she went to her other haven, the attic. She bit her lip and checked around for her mother before pulling open the small door leading to the attic. After carefully closing it behind her, she turned on the light and shimmied her way towards the little cove she had spaced out amongst the various boxes and clutter. She stepped over discarded clothing and seamstress mannequins, wincing hard when her shoulder collided with a large box. She squeaked and stepped back when the box came crashing down, spilling its contents everywhere. She refused to move for several long moments, thinking her mother may have heard, but when the sounds of footsteps never reached her ears, she breathed a sigh of relieve and looked to see what had fallen from the box.
"Pictures?"
She bent down to get a better look at them. Most of them were of her mother and some man, which she assumed to be her father. He looked similar to the single picture Margaret kept on her nightstand, albeit younger. She gathered up a good armful and carried them to her sitting area. Her eyes widened with interest as she looked through the old photos. Most were of her parents. Some were of them both individually. She kept them categorized by their content.
She was looking through them for half an hour before she started to come across photos of a young boy. He had thick strawberry blond hair and piercing blue-green eyes. He was smiling in most of the pictures. The boy looked to be anywhere from four to six years old depending on the picture. He was alone in most of his pictures, but what caught her attention were the pictures that featured him and her father, Ralph. She could see the facial similarities they shared. Same nose, mouth, eyes. She looked for more of these pictures and froze when she came across one of the boy, looking to be six, holding a toddler. His chin was rested on her head and he was smiling wide. The toddler was giggling as something to the side. Carrie set that one in her lap and saw another of the same boy and toddler. He was on his back and holding the child up in the air. They seemed happy. She recognized the toddler as herself based on the pictures her mother kept, but who was that boy? She turned the picture around and saw "Victor - 6" and "Carrie - 1" written on the back. Victor? Biting her lip, Carrie gathered up the other photos and put them back, but she held on to the pictures of her and the boy.
She quietly exited the attic and padded towards the living room. Unsurprisingly, her mother was still knelt down. Carrie inhaled deeply and steeled herself. She knew her mother hated being interrupted, but she needed answers.
"Mama?" Carrie's voice was small.
Margaret gave an annoyed grunt before responding, "Carrie, how many times have I told you not to interrupt me while I'm praying?" Her tone was sharp.
Carrie flinched and gulped.
"I-I know, but I need to ask you something? It's important."
Margaret sighed and opened her eyes, turning her head to look to her daughter as she stepped to her side.
"What is it that's more important than the Lord?"
She sounded impatient. Carried decided to get right to the point. She held up the two pictures and asked, "Who is this boy?" Curiosity laced her voice.
Margaret's eyes widened upon seeing the pictures and in a flash, she smacked them from Carrie's hands before scrambling back. Her eyes were wild.
"Wheredidyoufindthose?" Her tone was hurried, angry.
"I-I just found-" Carrie was cut off by a swift slap to the face.
"We are never to bring up that Satan spawn in this house Carrietta White, do you understand me?!"
Carrie's lower lip trembled as she held her stinging cheek. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she managed a near silent, "Why...?"
Margaret exhaled sharply through her nostrils and growled, "Because that child came from the loins of your father and a soiled woman!"
The blonde's eyes widened upon hearing that. Her attention was no longer on her cheek.
"D-Does that mean that wh-whoever that boy is, he's-"
"Your half-brother," Margaret finished quickly. Her eyes darted to the photos and she snatched them up, walking away, intending on burning them.
Carrie sat, stunned by the news that she has a sibling, or rather half-sibling, out there, somewhere. Was he still even alive? She knew his name, Victor, but nothing else. How would she find him? Maybe her mother knows. Asking her about him again though... That was going to be tough...