10 Years Ago

Chamberlain, Maine

THEY'RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU! THEY'RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU!

Momma's words echoed in Carrie's ears. The foul aroma and the metallic taste of copper slipped into her mouth as she gasped at the sight in front of her. Her arms. Her hands. Her fingers. All completely drenched in crimson as droplets of scarlet poured down the top of forehead, down her cheeks, and soaked against the silk fabric of her homemade prom dress that now bunched up around her body. Shock shot through her skin, rendering her speechless as she quickly glanced down to see her date, Tommy Ross, lying motionless near her on the gym stage with a deep, bloody gash across his head from the fallen, rusty bucket that had been attached to the ceiling. Instantly, she knew he was dead.

"Carrie…"

Still frozen in place, she recognized the voice. Coach Desjardin slowly approached her. Was she offering comfort? Support? She was the one that convinced her to try to be more outgoing. She had hoped to win the approval and support of her peers. She had hoped to be finally accepted. They even voted her Prom Queen. Carrie played her cards right. She followed the rules and look what happened. They were still cruel. Still heartless. They did not care about her; otherwise, they would not have dropped animal blood on her. Anger bubbled up inside of her.

"Carrie…"

Coach Desjardin reached out her hand. Carrie refused to budge. Instead, she listened to the commotion stirring. A snicker. A giggle. Through the stinging of the red liquid burning her eyes, she saw them. All of them. The jocks. The cheerleaders. The popular crowd. The nerds. The band geeks. The outcasts. They were all laughing. Cackling even at her misfortune.

PLUG IT UP! PLUG IT UP!

FREAK! WEIRDO! DUMB BITCH!

CREEPY CARRIE! CREEPY CARRIE!

The chanting swelled. It would not stop. The faces mocking her, treating her as worthless. Even Coach Desjardin blended into the mix with a bit of smile and a snicker. And she was supposed to be her friend.

It was all too much. Why won't they leave her alone? The anger spilled over. She wanted them to hurt like they always hurt her. She wanted them to feel her pain. She wanted them to pay.

God has seen your sinning. Pray for your salvation. Save yourself from damnation…

She could not, would not pray for them any longer. God had seen their sins and it was now their time to burn for them. The rage was building up inside her. She could feel it rise to the top and she knew she had to let it out. She screamed and let all fury release until there was nothing left.

Then she blacked out.

The White Residence

Flashbacks appeared on and off as Carrie washed the last remaining remnants of animal blood from her body. She did not remember much of tonight nor how she arrived at her house by midnight but all she could recall was the screams of her classmates and the smell of fire filling the school and the gymnasium.

Her recollection was vague, almost like a bad nightmare, but she sensed the fading images of all the prom attendees swallowed up in a massive blaze, bodies piled everywhere, and her school reduced to nothing but rubble and ash.

Then there was the town itself. Chamberlain hit with a string of bizarre natural disasters that turned the half the area into almost nothingness. However, it was the visual of remembering her biggest tormenter, Chris Hargensen, and her boyfriend Billy attempting to run her over on the road that brought the biggest satisfaction. Their Chevrolet Cavalier gunned it, but Billy lost control causing the car to overturn and crash off a steep embankment. Deep inside, Carrie had wished it to happen and it did.

Even still, she felt no remorse, no sympathy for her actions.

Now she was home, at the very place that had been her safe haven-her sanctuary. She scrubbed off all the red stains from her pale skin, only to see that the bathtub had been stained with a ring of blood. I'll clean it up tomorrow. She told herself as she toweled off and put on a long flannel cotton nightgown. With her hair still wet, she brushed the stringy blonde strands with her fingers and headed out of the bathroom to greet her mother who had been right about everything.

"Momma?"

She called out to her as she started down the stairs. A sharp pain tore through her right shoulder blade as she slipped on a step and tumbled down until she struck the tile floor hard near the kitchen. Carrie's shoulder throbbed with pain as she clasped the stinging skin with her left hand, withdraw it, only to notice it streaked with red. She was bleeding.

"I should've killed myself when he put in me…"

Sprawled on the floor, Carrie looked up to her mother in a shabby nightgown brandishing a bloody butcher knife slowly making her way down the stairs.

"Your father wrestled with the devil as he did with Jacob," Margaret White whispered. "I sent him away, but he came back with the whiskey on his breath and he took me!"

Carrie whimpered. "Momma…" She did not know what to make of this revelation. The difficult union that her mother refused to discuss about her birth father.

"I should've atoned!" Margaret continued. "But I LIKED it! I liked his filthy hands on me! But God punished the sinners for their crimes! It was fate that God chose death for him at that construction site! It was fate that planted your father's seed of sin inside me! And now the sin of lust never dies, and I must set it right!"

She raised the bloody knife.

"FATHER, TAKE HER! CLEANSE AND PURIFY HER! WITH THE FIRE AND THE GLORY! AMEN!"

Margaret slashed at Carrie. The blade drew forward, nicked the skin of legs and arms, causing the poor girl to scamper away from the sharp weapon. Her mother had other ideas. She took a firm grasp of Carrie's ankles and pulled her close as she straddled the girl and prepared to do further damage with the knife.

"MOMMA NO!"

Carrie screamed and struggled but to no avail. Margaret White was prepared to purify her daughter at any cost. With her knife raised high, Margaret garnered her remaining strength to finish off her progeny. Carrie's head shifted to all the drawers and kitchen cabinets around the room. She only had once chance.

Focusing the willpower inside of her, she pulled every compartment opened, levitated every sharp object and kitchen tool she could think of from knives, to sharp peelers, and metallic appliances and shot them toward her mother. Margaret White flew backwards against the wall, arms and legs spread akimbo as she laid crucified against the plaster with each object and sharp instrument impaled her skin on every part of her body.

Carrie wept as got up off the floor to see her mother attempting to fight through her confines but only her daughter knew the truth of what was happening to her.

Margaret's weak heart became proof of that as Carrie listened carefully through each pulse.

"I'm sorry," Carrie apologized through her tears.

"You…wicked girl…" Margaret spat as a trickle of blood poured from her mouth. "You…have killed me…"

Through her sobs, Carrie raised her hand again and concentrated on her mother's weak heart. No more should she suffer. She pushed again her thoughts and slowly stopped Margaret's organ from beating. With one last breath, Margaret White released a final exhale and let go.

Carrie crawled over to mother, hugged her lifeless body, and fell to her knees.

"Momma…Momma…I'm sorry…"

More tears streaked down the young girl's face as she pulled Margaret off the wall, allowing her flesh to tear in the process, and allowed the corpse to fall on top of her wounded body. Adrenaline pumped through Carrie's veins as she dragged her mother into the prayer closet near the kitchen and pulled Margaret and herself inside. Now together, it was Carrie's turn to do the unthinkable.

God has seen my sinning. Mercy to God for my salvation. To repent, I offer my body to smite thee!

Her eyes glanced at the ceiling and the entire foundation surrounding the house.

I pray to heaven for my wicked soul!

The entire White residence shook until the tremors made the infrastructure loosen. From the plaster, the wood, brick, and concrete, it finally receded and deteriorated. Carrie continued to push until everything broke apart.

The only thing she could do now was wait until everything collapsed on top of her.

Sirens roared across the town. Smoked filled the night sky making the heavens even gloomier and darker than before. EMTS, fire engines, and police rushed to the burning high school as other available crews tried to control the blaze of other wildfires that decimated the nearby area.

Too preoccupied with several town emergencies, the residents failed to notice a group of mysterious vehicles parked near the now demolished house of Margaret and Carrie White just minutes after it collapsed. Out of the cars, a group of strange figures in hazmat suits descended upon the rubble.

"Agent S-78," one of the figures announced through his walkie talkie. "We were able to clear an opening through the wreckage. However, only one can fit inside the entrance. It's going to be tight."

"That is fine," responded the person known as S-78. "We only need one person to get through. This is my mission. I'm going down."

The figure hesitated. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"We'll soon find out," S-78 answered. An enigmatic figure also dressed in a hazmat suit got out of the driver's side of a van and headed toward the back. The rear doors were open to reveal a gray body bag with something already inside. It took a few attempts but the figure successful dragged the object from the vehicle to the steep opening of the demolished house and slowly made its way down.

"You got fifteen minutes." The figure's partner explained. The companion nodded and slipped slowly through the tight crevice, lodging a foot through several wooden planks, brick and concrete that had wedged itself into the tiny entrance. Even though getting through the small opening might had been successful. Dragging a body bag through the same path made it even more difficult.

The figure ducked through some planks and crawled over a few bricks until the person came cross two large lumps in the shadowy darkness that could barely be seen through the many holes of the collapsed house that let in just a small sliver of moonlight. Luckily, the person had a large flashlight and switched the object on.

A beam ran across the first object. Large and covered in dust, the figure easily identified whom the person was. Margaret White. However, she was barely recognizable. Small, sharp objects protruded from her arms and chest and her face had been covered in dry blood from the house caving in on her. Lifeless and cold, she laid next to her another lump beside her. This one was smaller and not as robust, but the Agent S-78 easily identified the other female.

The beam of the flashlight drifted to the second object. The hazmat figure stared at the person. Dust, debris, wood, and stone surrounded her barely touching her innocent face. Her blond hair swam in tendrils around her as her body levitated from the ground while each object floated next to her but with no strings attached, as if magic had instructed them not to move. Carrie White looked ethereal like some sleeping angel and the mystery person removed a glove to touch the tiny vein on her neck.

"S-78 here!" The figure declared on the walkie talkie. "I found her! She's alive!"

"Is she breathing?" The other person at the other end of line asked.

"I felt a pulse." S-78 responded. "Will complete the transfer." The figure put down the walkie, crawled over to the body bag, and unzipped it. The corpse of a young blonde girl whose face had been destroyed spilled out. S-78 dragged the body toward Margaret White and placed her next to Carrie's mother. Then the body bag was slipped over the unmoving Carrie White until she was completely zipped up inside the cloth fabric in preparation for transport.

Within a few minutes, the hazmat figure successfully carried the body of Carrie White out of the wreckage and into an awaiting van. Once inside the vehicle, the rear doors were locked, and the mystery person got into the driver's side. Signals were made, communication was finalized as everyone returned to their cars and drove off into the night.

The hazmat person pulled on to the main road but not before taking out a small device from the pocket of the suit. With a simple push of button, Margaret and Carrie White's house exploded. However, the town of Chamberlaine, Maine could care less about the incident. They were too busy putting out fires across the area from the destroyed mess of the high school to the local resident establishments engulfed in flames.

As far as they were concerned, Carrie White had caused all this trouble in the town. She was the one responsible. All because the locals treated a young girl cruelly and without compassion.

Call it what you will. Karmic retribution, but for a place like Chamberlaine, the sleepy town would never be the same again.

Manchester, Vermont

Emerald Lakes Park

Soft fibers of cotton slipped through her fingers. Carrie inhaled the sweet scent of clean sheets and the wonderful aroma of pine and peacefulness. Feeling cramped and fatigued, she stretched out her arms that had been covered in a blue pajama top until her hands stroked the carved wooden headboard to make her realize that something seemed off about her bedroom. She glanced down for a second, realized that her old nightgown had been replaced with clean p-jays and tried to make sense of what was happening to her. Bright light stung her eyes as she forced them open to see that her once clean white walls were now replaced with strange wooden planks and that her bed felt much comfortable than her old, musty, stained mattress.

She forced herself up, sitting in L-shaped position as she rubbed her eyes and took in her strange surroundings. The room was completely new and nothing like her former bedroom. There was a nightstand with a lamp, a dresser close to her bed while a table sat near the tiny kitchen with a stove, sink and fridge. Carrie swept her legs off the bed, forced to stand despite her weakened state and began pacing barefoot around the area until she got her bearings.

A few minutes of this and she felt fine enough to search for the bathroom in the corner of the room. Thankfully, she found it, used the toilet, and donned off her clothes to use the shower. To her surprise, Carrie noticed that the bathroom had been stocked with various toiletries from soap, shampoos, creams, feminine hygiene products to a toothbrush and toothpaste that she used to make herself presentable.

After showering, she grabbed a clean towel, already prepared for her, wrapped herself up and thoroughly examined herself in the mirror. Her eyes drifted to her arms that had tiny pimples of red which surprised her but the strangest of all was the small bump that she felt with her fingers behind her right shoulder. Her body did a 180 turn to showcase her back and she could see from the corner of her eye a tiny scar from where something sharp had drove itself into the spot.

She tried to recall what happened, saw Momma's face brandishing the knife, and gasped.

Momma! She tried to kill me!

She remembered. She remembered her classmates dousing blood on her. She remembered wishing the school to be reduced to ash. She remembered wanting the buildings in the town to be destroyed. She remembered the laughing, the taunting, the fire and then the screams. She remembered all of it. She wanted it to happen. She wanted it because she had the power now to make them pay. She wouldn't let them hurt her again; rather, she would not let anyone for that matter. Including Momma.

Tears filled Carrie's eyes as she recalled how she used her power on her mother to make her stop. She succeeded and she killed her. However, she was supposed to die after committing such a sinful act of matricide. That is why she caused her house to collapse. It was supposed to work but how is it that she was still alive?

She wiped her tears, padded back into center of the room, and pulled opened the dresser drawer. Inside, she found clean shirts, pants, shorts, skirts, socks and even Walmart packaged underwear meticulously organized inside. She slipped on the undergarments along with a t-shirt and shorts and went through the rest of the contents of the dresser. Combs, brushes, hair accessories, along with clean linens and towels made up the rest as she pulled these out and examined them for later use. Next to the dresser, a pair of sneakers and sandals in her size rested on the floor. Carrie pulled some socks on and slipped into her sneakers as she researched the room further.

She started in the kitchen. Some soup cans rested on shelf over the sink and she pulled open the refrigerator door to see some microwave dinners, fresh fruit and produce inside along with bottles of water for her usage. A pot and a pan rested on the stove while some utensils and a few plates and cups were neatly stacked by the sink.

Carrie grabbed an apple from the fridge and a bottled water and slowly walked next to the nightstand where a duffle bag and backpack laid on top of the surface. She pulled the backpack by the straps, discovered that something was weighing it down and placed the item on to the bed. Unzipping the object, she found inside a box of hair coloring, a large manila envelope that contained various I. D.'s, social security cards, credit cards, bank cards, passports, all with a different names and information but containing her picture. She slipped the contents back into the backpack. Searching the other pockets, Carrie found another hidden area of the bag. She unzipped it and found an even smaller envelope.

Her fingers pulled open the contents. She felt paper. Lots and lots of paper. Fives, tens, twenties, hundreds. She counted the stack which totaled $3000.

Whoa! What is going on?

She slipped the bills back inside the envelope and that is when she noticed the folded handwritten note.

Dear Carrie,

I know all about you and I want to say that it is not your fault. This power you have is a gift. Use it if you must protect yourself. There are bad people coming after you so stay hidden and always be on the run. I rescued you because I need you to help find the others. Others like you with special gifts so that you can help fight these people. Enclosed are documents, credit cards, I. D.'s and money to help you remain on the run.

Use this cabin for a few days and then you must move. The longer you stay in one place, the sooner they will find you.

Don't let that happen!

Sincerely,

A Friend

A friend? What friends did she have? More importantly, where was she exactly? She tossed the note on to the bed leaving the backpack containing money and documents on the mattress and headed toward the front door of the room.

Warm sunlight filled her face as she noticed herself standing on the front porch of what appeared to some wooden cabin in the woods. She walked down the steps to see a row of trees surrounding her and the chirping of birds and the sweet smell of pine flooding her nostrils. The air was crisp and clean and the quiet felt wondrous. She hiked a few steps into the brush only to feel nervous that she might get lost and headed back. Whomever had taken her from her home in Chamberlaine had purposefully wanted her isolated. Well, they succeeded.

She went around the corner of the house to find the cleared, dirt path that led up to an incline outside of the trees around her. Carrie followed the trail and walked approximately for five minutes while admiring the nearby foliage and natural beauty of the area, until she noticed an actual road at the very end of it. She stopped, watched a tiny car whiz by before hiding by a nearby bush to watch a large semi following right after the last vehicle plowing down the road unfazed by the hidden pathway that led up to her cabin.

Content with this revelation, Carrie headed back, finished consuming her apple, and explored the rest of the building. She went through every drawer and cabinet of the room to see what had been left behind. From used books, an old Bible, to extra clothing and canned food products, Carrie thanked her mysterious benefactor for being kind enough to keep her supplied. She pulled a trashy romance novel from the stack of used books, sprawled herself on to the bed, and began enjoying her newfound solitude.

Two weeks flew by fast. Carrie didn't really know what day of the week is as she took walks around the forest and around the cabin and took in the beautiful sounds and sights of nature. She spent this time gaining better control of her abilities as she learned she could lift even heavier objects with her mind from large tree branches on the ground to even bigger logs that had been left in the woods for decades. She even learned that she could push down even gigantic objects like tall trees which she toppled over like a stack of dominos with remarkably simple thought in her mind. However, it would be an even greater discovery about her abilities that made her realize how special her powers were.

It was about third night that she decided to spruce up her chicken soup from a can with some vegetables from the fridge. While cutting a slice of tomato, the knife slipped, creating a deep gash on her right finger. Large amounts of blood dripped from the wound and Carrie scrambled to find something to clot it. She was about to rinse her finger through the sink when her eyes fixated on the cut. She concentrated for a bit, watched the crimson liquid drip continuously through the opening and then pushed at it with her mind. Slowly, like watching time revert backward, the blood retreated. Every drop, every ounce of redness, every bit of scarlet re-entered the wound until it filled up to completion. Next came the skin itself. The damaged epidermis resewn itself as if a piece of invisible thread consistently stitched up the opening. With a matter of seconds, the fresh wound had regenerated and healed leaving only a tiny scar on her finger.

Carrie rushed to the bathroom to compare wounds. She pulled down the shirt she was wearing to look at the scar on her right shoulder where Momma stabbed her with a knife. She then glanced at her finger. Miraculous. It was the best word to describe it as she realized just how fortunate her gift was.

At the end of her two weeks, Carrie wanted more. She knew she couldn't stay a hermit all her life and she knew people were hunting her. According to the letter, the person advised her to keep moving so she needed to, but she had to first change her appearance. Thankfully, her benefactor left her the tools needed to go on the run.

Grabbing the hair coloring dye, she followed the instructions and watched in the bathroom as she cut off her blonde hair into a simple bob cut. Next came the hair dying, she mixed the concoction together, applied to her scalp and noticed her yellow strands turning a deep, dark brown. Vanity is the Devil's sin. She heard her mother's voice in her head. She ignored the remark and went to pack her things. Grabbing clothes, underwear, and all the necessary documents needed, Carrie stuffed them all in both the duffel bag and backpack and returned to the bathroom to shower and change. Choosing a simple t-shirt, cardigan, and jeans. She blow dried her hair until the dark brown strands looked as natural as possible and checked herself in the mirror one last time. Once she was ready, she inhaled and headed out.

She followed the trail that led to the main road and waited for a vehicle to pass by. Luckily, it was morning so she would be easy to spot. She spotted a pick-up heading down and gave the thumbs up signal.

Thankfully, the white pick-up stopped for her. Carrie approached the driver and saw that it was an older gentleman with a graying beard and wearing fishing gear.

"Where ya' heading?" He asked the young girl.

"Any place you're going to." Carrie smiled. She tried to read him to make sure he was not some old pervert that attacked defenseless women. Her instincts told her to trust him.

"Well, I'm going to Cleveland." He answered. "That's a bit a ride away from Vermont."

Vermont? So, that is where she is. "Cool, I could use the lift." She said. "Do you mind?"

"No problem," said the man. "Hop in."

Carrie tossed her bags into the back, got inside, and gazed through the passenger window as the truck drove down the road.

"So, got a name?" The driver asked her.

"Annie. Annie Staten." Carrie lied, using one of the many aliases from her fake documents.

"Joseph Hill." The man replied. "Please to meet you." He extended his hand to her and together they shook. "Tell me, Annie, you're quite young to be out here alone. You're not running away from family, are you?"

Carrie slunk down and paused.

"Look. I know I'm getting personal, but you don't have to answer. Are you in trouble or something? I'm sure I can get you help."

Carrie shook her head. "It's complicated."

"Well, we got all the time in the world," said Joseph. "Oh, and if you're wondering if I'm some psycho killer. Don't. I got a granddaughter your age so you're safe with me. Plus, you look like a tough girl, so nobody messes with you." He lifted his brows. "Unless, you're planning to rob and murder me, I'll let you know right now that I'll fight back."

His remark made her giggle. "Nah, Joseph. I pretty much could tell you weren't some crazy." She quickly devised an elaborate lie. "I just wanted to visit my grandfather's cabin one last time. You see he died and there was a falling out between my parents and him, so I wasn't allowed to attend his funeral. I thought visiting the cabin one last time would give me a sense of closure. I came here with my boyfriend, but he broke up with me and left me to fend for myself. I'm just trying to get back home."

Joseph frowned. "Ugh, men can be real assholes sometimes! I don't know why I'm constantly falling for them!"

Carrie was surprised by his statement. More so if not relieved. He's gay!

"Does that bother you?"

She didn't know what he meant.

"About what?" She asked.

"Me, being a homosexual?" He said bluntly.

"Nah! It's cool." She smiled. In fact, it was. She knew Momma never approved of homosexuality especially when they represented the greatest sin of all but again, she wasn't Momma and she honestly could care less about someone's sexual orientation. She even knew a couple of her classmates who were identified as such and tormented by the jocks. She only hoped that none of them were a casualty of the prom incident.

"Well, Miss Annie." Joseph laughed. "This is going to be one hell of a road trip."

Carrie was certainly hoping so. She listened to his story of how he came out later in life after his wife died, how supportive his family was, and how he now was involved with a long distance companion who lived all the way here in Vermont.

"The world is changing, Annie." He declared. "Back in my day, we didn't talk so openly about it, but more and more people are coming out and making it more acceptable."

Carrie nodded and stared blankly through her side window. She saw the Emerald Lakes Park sign and wondered who had rescued her from her demolished house, who had set her up in the cabin, and who was looking out for her welfare. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't notice Joseph turning on the radio.

"It has been several weeks since the Black Prom Massacre in Chamberlaine, Maine. Authorities are piecing together what happened, calling it another school shooting tragedy like the events of Columbine and Santana High in California. From what information gathered, the motive was bullying where the alleged suspect identified as 18-year-old Carrieta White burned down her school during a prom event killing everyone inside and continued to set fires all around the town. The suspect then returned to home where she allegedly murdered her mother Margaret White and set off some homemade bomb killing her and her mother inside. Today residents and supporters of nearby towns are preparing a candlelight vigil for all who died.

The disturbed girl..."

Carrie quickly shut off the radio. "Sorry, I couldn't hear any more bad news."

Joseph nodded. "I don't blame ya. It seems the whole world is full of people who hurt. Now I'm not saying that this poor girl was in the right for starting a fire, but no one deserves to be bullied. I can't imagine what the families are feeling right now."

Hatred. For me. Carrie White Burn in Hell! This is what they'll write on her tombstone. It is not like they didn't deserve it. Then again, neither did she.

The pick-up eventually made it along the main highway. What happens next was totally up to her.