PART 2: PROM NIGHT
Chapter 1
Becky and Carrie went to the store to pick out some lipstick. They giggled as they put on the samples. They picked out mascara, blush, eye shadow, and concealor for their faces. Now, the shoes: Carrie's white and Becky's were black, both had heels.
The night had come fast. Carrie first put it on that night of May 27, in her room. Becky could remember it so well; the material was silk, the skirt floor length and loose and the waist snug, a soft pink. She liked it...no, loved it.
Becky's own dress was a black silk, it too floor length, making her pale skin look prettier. There was red lace on the V-neck, showing the pale neck and the small, yet shapely breasts that breathed freely, showing taut nipples. It was also backless, showing her pale back with a beautiful curve of her spine; thankfully the bruises from Momma's whipping had gone. On her right wrist was a corsage consisting of bloody red roses with white baby breaths that Carrie had bought her. The tattoo of her name was covered, but Carrie's name was uncovered.
"Beck," said Carrie, seeing her sister in the doorway. "You look absolutely beautiful."
Becky smiled, turning showing her sister her dress, and her cheeks turned pink. "You too, Car."
The girls put on their makeup in front of Carrie's cracked mirror and they helped each other curl each other's hair with a curling iron.
"Red and black," they heard Momma's voice murmur. "I might've known it would those colors."
"It's pink, Momma," said Carrie. "Look what Tommy gave me. Isn't it pretty, Momma?"
She picked up her corsage, which consisted of pink roses with silk ribbon. Becky could see that her eyes were not looking at the corsage...but at her breasts.
"I can see your dirty pillows," Momma said, quietly. "Everyone will. They'll be looking at your body."
"Breasts, Momma. They're called breasts. And every woman has them. Becky told me all about them."
"You dare poison your sister with such sin!" Momma said to Becky, eyes wide open in shock.
"It's not sin," Becky said, calmly; the room became hot. "It's the reality of puberty."
Carrie and Becky put on their lipsticks, looking in the cracked mirror; Becky put on a dark red lipstick and Carrie a nice pink.
"Take off those dresses," Momma said.
"No, Momma," said Carrie and Becky, both exasperated.
"We'll burn them together, Carrie and Rebecca, and pray for forgiveness."
"Momma, shut up!" said Becky.
Soon, a car went by. Carrie ran to the window to see if it was Tommy. No...it was just two cars passing by.
"He's not gonna come," said Momma.
"Yes, he is, Momma," said Carrie.
Momma paced a few times. "No, he's not coming."
"Stop it, Momma! We're nervous enough already."
Her mother reached up and pinched her face, screaming. Then, pulled her hair and scratched, and slapped her face, letting out little cries of pain.
"Momma!" said Becky. "Stop it!"
"Stop hurting yourself, Momma!" said Carrie.
"He's all gonna laugh at you!" she said, her voice high, sobbing. "They're all gonna laugh at you! I know it." She grabbed the girls' arms, digging her fingernails into their bare flesh. The scratch bled a thin line of blood on Momma's cheek.
"Momma, shut up!" said Becky.
"You're not going, neither of you. I'll go downstairs and tell him you're both sick. I'll tell him you changed your mind. We'll stay home together..."
"No!" the girls said together.
Soon, a large flame rose up below Momma's feet, just near her nose. She screeched.
"Satan! The bowels of Hell are opening..." she screamed.
"Sit down!" Carrie screamed. With that, Momma fell backward on the bed, staring at Carrie and Becky with shock.
Becky heard the sound of a car approaching the house, ran to the window to see if it was Tommy. She saw as Tommy got out of the car, walking up the path.
"He's here, Carrie," said Becky.
Carrie and Becky grabbed their silken shawls and were ready to go out and meet Tommy.
"Carrie, Rebecca, listen to me, I..." said Momma.
"Sit down, Momma!" said Carrie and Becky, together. Momma fell back on the bed again. "Just sit there and don't say a word until we're gone," said Carrie. They walked towards the door. "We'll be home early. We love you, Momma."
"And we're sorry," Becky said.
Soon as they walked down the stairs, Becky heard Momma say: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
From The Medical Files of Rebecca White: Clairvoyance or Coincidence? (p. 19)
Tommy pulled into the parking lot by the high school's new wing. He turned off the car and opened the door to get out.
"Wait, Tommy," said Carrie. "Just a second."
"OK," he said, closing the door.
Becky pretended not to listen as they talked.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"A bit," she said. "You know, maybe this was a mistake."
"What? No! Come on, Carrie. You can do this."
Carrie smiled.
"You ready to go in?"
"Yea."
He got out of the car and opened the door, helping both girls out.
The first thing that struck them was glamour. Beautiful silvery stars hung from the ceiling, reminding Becky of a midnight sky. The lights shone on the stars, making them sparkle in every hue. The air was redolent with flowers, girls in dresses that were silk, chiffon, lace, and satin with low backs, scooped bodices showing actual cleavage, with Empire waists. Long skirts, pumps, blinding white dinner jackets, cummerheads, black shoes that shined like the Chrysler Building.
"The mural's nice," said Tommy.
"Yes," Carrie said.
"Want to sit down?"
"Sure," they said.
"Hey, Tommy," said George Dawson, with his date Frieda Jason. "You look queer!" He lunged forward with his fists up, while Tommy tagged him twice in the ribs, laughed, collapsing his guard.
"Don't let it bother you," said Frieda. "If they kill each other, I'll dance with you."
They laughed.
"Why don't you join us, Carrie and Becky?" said Frieda.
"Thanks," said Carrie, smiling
"I really like those dresses," said Frieda. "Where did you two get them?"
"We made them," said Becky.
"No shit!"
Soon as the girls sat down, Tommy went to go get the girls some punch.
"Hi, Carrie and Becky," said a voice behind them. It was Miss Collins.
"Hi, Miss Collins," said Carrie. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you, so do you two."
Carrie felt herself blushing again and dropped her eyes on the table. "It's awfully nice of you to say so. I know I'm not...but really, thank you."
"It's true," said Miss Collins...
While they talked, their voices seemed to fade out from Becky's ears. Everything Becky heard went silent...as if she had gone completely deaf. The voices were softer, yet her body was cold as ice and her muscles were stiff. She could feel it inside...an empty pit in her stomach. She tasted blood and steel in her mouth...what was it? Where was it coming from?
"Becky?" said Carrie.
"Huh?" she said stupidly.
"You all right?"
"Um...yea...I was just daydreaming. Sorry."
"Tommy and I are going to dance. Wanna come?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll watch you."
She watched Tommy and Carrie walk on the dance floor. A song playing softly from the stage and the stars glittering from the ceiling as they danced slowly. She watched as Carrie rested her head on Tommy's shoulder, feeling its warmth and strength.
"I can't do anything, I can't dance or even..."
Becky watched as Tommy leaned forward and kissed Carrie's pink lips, encasing them, tasting them. Becky smiled warmly, her cheeks burned softly and turned pink.
"Tommy?" she heard Carrie's voice.
"Yes?"
"Why are we here?"
"Because it's the prom."
"Why am I here with you?"
"Because I asked you."
"Why?"
"I dunno...maybe because you liked my poem."
"Oh," she said.
"You know, I didn't really write that poem."
"Oh."
She could see them spinning, laughing and smiling. Becky smiled warmly; happy to see that her sister was happy for she had never seen her sister so happy since the day Becky was born, remembering one-year-old Carrie's face looking at baby Becky in the cradle, smiling down at her, touching the soft skin on her face and holding her tiny hand. All that was past...Becky knew that Carrie had found true happiness.
From Inside Her Mind: The Mysterious Mind of Rebecca White (p.23)
Vic Mooney, Class President of the Senior Class, stepped up to the mike and said, "All right, ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats. It's time for the voting of the king and queen."
Carrie and Tommy sat down with Becky. Carrie picked up the ballot that was on the table and her mouth dropped open after studying it.
"Tommy," she said, quietly. "We're on here."
"Yea, I see," he said. "Want to decline?"
"I don't know. It's your crowd...I don't have a crowd."
"Come on, Car," said Becky. "I mean it's a once in a lifetime thing. It's not like it's going to happen again."
"Beck's right, Carrie," said Tommy. "I mean, if you win, all you do they take your picture for the yearbook and give you a dance to make you look like an idiot."
"So, who do we vote for?" she said.
"Yourselves," Becky said.
"No," said Carrie, "Don't..."
"Why?"
"Come on, Carrie," said Tommy, offering her a pencil. "To the devil with false modesty."
"To the devil..." Carrie laughed, and X-ed their names on the ballot...
Her laughter faded out in Becky's mind...so did everyone else fade out. The whole world around her became silent and she felt colder. She went into some kind of trance like state, and images flashed...seeing, smelling, tasting, and hearing. She saw an eye, a green one with mascara darting, a tongue licking lips, hands trembling, heavy breathing (all were in some nervous/excited state)...but oh! The smell! That horrible, coppery smell that made her head spin and her stomach sick...she could taste it too. Blood and steel! And a rope! A long rope leading somewhere to the sky...and a red splash falling from the sky...but where was it all coming from?
From The Shadow Exploded (p. 57)
The house was silent.
They were gone.
At night.
Gone.
Margaret White walked slowly from Carrie's bedroom to the kitchen, pacing around the table. First had come the flow of blood and the filthy fantasies that the Devil had sent with it, from both girls. Then, the power of the Devil had given them. It came at the time of blood and hair on the bodies
(momma, it's not satan it's the reality of puberty)
Oh, she knew the Devil's power. Her grandmother had it...she was able to light fires without stirring from her chair. It made her eyes glow with a kind of witch's light. Sometimes at supper, the sugar bowl would spin madly like a dervish. Whenever it happened, Gram would cackle crazily and make the Sign of the Evil Eye around her.
{Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live}
She died of a heart attack at sixty-six, when Carrie was only a year old and Becky, inside her womb, Momma had gone to Carrie's bedroom, not four weeks after the funeral, and there the child, laughing and gurgling, in her crib.
Margaret had almost killed her then. But Ralph stopped her. He shouldn't have stopped her.
Then, when Becky was born, it had come at the time of her birth when she saw she had birthed Satan's own image: that pale skin covered in the bloody placental membrane, her power...that power he gave her when she screamed and the heat would rise, the Devil gave her the power...the power to make heat and fire. But her eyes, Satan's own ebony black eyes that stared right at Momma. She tried to kill little Becky...sickly, ugly Becky with Satan's eyes. Becky screamed and there was fire! Yellow orange flames that licked her dress hungrily...
(slut!) Becky's voice whispered.
Ten minutes after eight.
She had been able to feel, actually feel, the Devil's power working in both girls. It crawled over you, lifting and pulling and burning like tiny, tickling fingers of evil that made your skin crawl and the hair on your neck stand. She had set out to do her duty again on Carrie, three, and Becky, two, when she caught them looking into the eyes of sin at Satan's slut next door.
(slut slut slut slut slut)
Then the fiery stones came and she had weakened. And the power had risen again after thirteen years. God was not mocked.
(slut slut slut slut slut)
First the blood, then the power
{you sign your name you sign it in blood}
now a boy and dancing and he would take both of them to a roadhouse afterward, to a parking lot and take them into the back seat, take them—
(I know what you did with daddy got in his bed spread your skimpy legs and FUCKED him you slut)
Blood was at the root of it and only blood could expiate it.
The only way to kill sin, true black sin, was to drown it in the blood of
{they must be sacrificed}
a repentant heart. Surely God understood that, and had laid his finger upon her.
(slut slut slut slut slut) Becky's voice got louder, singing in the tune of Bernard Hermann's 'Twisted Nerve' now.
Eight-thirty.
(slut slut slut slut)
She went to the kitchen, carrots laying on the carving board and the carving knife lying on top. She took a carrot, laid it carefully on the board and raised the knife and whacked at the carrot, cutting it twice and then she missed it...
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Chapter 1
Becky and Carrie went to the store to pick out some lipstick. They giggled as they put on the samples. They picked out mascara, blush, eye shadow, and concealor for their faces. Now, the shoes: Carrie's white and Becky's were black, both had heels.
The night had come fast. Carrie first put it on that night of May 27, in her room. Becky could remember it so well; the material was silk, the skirt floor length and loose and the waist snug, a soft pink. She liked it...no, loved it.
Becky's own dress was a black silk, it too floor length, making her pale skin look prettier. There was red lace on the V-neck, showing the pale neck and the small, yet shapely breasts that breathed freely, showing taut nipples. It was also backless, showing her pale back with a beautiful curve of her spine; thankfully the bruises from Momma's whipping had gone. On her right wrist was a corsage consisting of bloody red roses with white baby breaths that Carrie had bought her. The tattoo of her name was covered, but Carrie's name was uncovered.
"Beck," said Carrie, seeing her sister in the doorway. "You look absolutely beautiful."
Becky smiled, turning showing her sister her dress, and her cheeks turned pink. "You too, Car."
The girls put on their makeup in front of Carrie's cracked mirror and they helped each other curl each other's hair with a curling iron.
"Red and black," they heard Momma's voice murmur. "I might've known it would those colors."
"It's pink, Momma," said Carrie. "Look what Tommy gave me. Isn't it pretty, Momma?"
She picked up her corsage, which consisted of pink roses with silk ribbon. Becky could see that her eyes were not looking at the corsage...but at her breasts.
"I can see your dirty pillows," Momma said, quietly. "Everyone will. They'll be looking at your body."
"Breasts, Momma. They're called breasts. And every woman has them. Becky told me all about them."
"You dare poison your sister with such sin!" Momma said to Becky, eyes wide open in shock.
"It's not sin," Becky said, calmly; the room became hot. "It's the reality of puberty."
Carrie and Becky put on their lipsticks, looking in the cracked mirror; Becky put on a dark red lipstick and Carrie a nice pink.
"Take off those dresses," Momma said.
"No, Momma," said Carrie and Becky, both exasperated.
"We'll burn them together, Carrie and Rebecca, and pray for forgiveness."
"Momma, shut up!" said Becky.
Soon, a car went by. Carrie ran to the window to see if it was Tommy. No...it was just two cars passing by.
"He's not gonna come," said Momma.
"Yes, he is, Momma," said Carrie.
Momma paced a few times. "No, he's not coming."
"Stop it, Momma! We're nervous enough already."
Her mother reached up and pinched her face, screaming. Then, pulled her hair and scratched, and slapped her face, letting out little cries of pain.
"Momma!" said Becky. "Stop it!"
"Stop hurting yourself, Momma!" said Carrie.
"He's all gonna laugh at you!" she said, her voice high, sobbing. "They're all gonna laugh at you! I know it." She grabbed the girls' arms, digging her fingernails into their bare flesh. The scratch bled a thin line of blood on Momma's cheek.
"Momma, shut up!" said Becky.
"You're not going, neither of you. I'll go downstairs and tell him you're both sick. I'll tell him you changed your mind. We'll stay home together..."
"No!" the girls said together.
Soon, a large flame rose up below Momma's feet, just near her nose. She screeched.
"Satan! The bowels of Hell are opening..." she screamed.
"Sit down!" Carrie screamed. With that, Momma fell backward on the bed, staring at Carrie and Becky with shock.
Becky heard the sound of a car approaching the house, ran to the window to see if it was Tommy. She saw as Tommy got out of the car, walking up the path.
"He's here, Carrie," said Becky.
Carrie and Becky grabbed their silken shawls and were ready to go out and meet Tommy.
"Carrie, Rebecca, listen to me, I..." said Momma.
"Sit down, Momma!" said Carrie and Becky, together. Momma fell back on the bed again. "Just sit there and don't say a word until we're gone," said Carrie. They walked towards the door. "We'll be home early. We love you, Momma."
"And we're sorry," Becky said.
Soon as they walked down the stairs, Becky heard Momma say: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
From The Medical Files of Rebecca White: Clairvoyance or Coincidence? (p. 19)
Tommy pulled into the parking lot by the high school's new wing. He turned off the car and opened the door to get out.
"Wait, Tommy," said Carrie. "Just a second."
"OK," he said, closing the door.
Becky pretended not to listen as they talked.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"A bit," she said. "You know, maybe this was a mistake."
"What? No! Come on, Carrie. You can do this."
Carrie smiled.
"You ready to go in?"
"Yea."
He got out of the car and opened the door, helping both girls out.
The first thing that struck them was glamour. Beautiful silvery stars hung from the ceiling, reminding Becky of a midnight sky. The lights shone on the stars, making them sparkle in every hue. The air was redolent with flowers, girls in dresses that were silk, chiffon, lace, and satin with low backs, scooped bodices showing actual cleavage, with Empire waists. Long skirts, pumps, blinding white dinner jackets, cummerheads, black shoes that shined like the Chrysler Building.
"The mural's nice," said Tommy.
"Yes," Carrie said.
"Want to sit down?"
"Sure," they said.
"Hey, Tommy," said George Dawson, with his date Frieda Jason. "You look queer!" He lunged forward with his fists up, while Tommy tagged him twice in the ribs, laughed, collapsing his guard.
"Don't let it bother you," said Frieda. "If they kill each other, I'll dance with you."
They laughed.
"Why don't you join us, Carrie and Becky?" said Frieda.
"Thanks," said Carrie, smiling
"I really like those dresses," said Frieda. "Where did you two get them?"
"We made them," said Becky.
"No shit!"
Soon as the girls sat down, Tommy went to go get the girls some punch.
"Hi, Carrie and Becky," said a voice behind them. It was Miss Collins.
"Hi, Miss Collins," said Carrie. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you, so do you two."
Carrie felt herself blushing again and dropped her eyes on the table. "It's awfully nice of you to say so. I know I'm not...but really, thank you."
"It's true," said Miss Collins...
While they talked, their voices seemed to fade out from Becky's ears. Everything Becky heard went silent...as if she had gone completely deaf. The voices were softer, yet her body was cold as ice and her muscles were stiff. She could feel it inside...an empty pit in her stomach. She tasted blood and steel in her mouth...what was it? Where was it coming from?
"Becky?" said Carrie.
"Huh?" she said stupidly.
"You all right?"
"Um...yea...I was just daydreaming. Sorry."
"Tommy and I are going to dance. Wanna come?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll watch you."
She watched Tommy and Carrie walk on the dance floor. A song playing softly from the stage and the stars glittering from the ceiling as they danced slowly. She watched as Carrie rested her head on Tommy's shoulder, feeling its warmth and strength.
"I can't do anything, I can't dance or even..."
Becky watched as Tommy leaned forward and kissed Carrie's pink lips, encasing them, tasting them. Becky smiled warmly, her cheeks burned softly and turned pink.
"Tommy?" she heard Carrie's voice.
"Yes?"
"Why are we here?"
"Because it's the prom."
"Why am I here with you?"
"Because I asked you."
"Why?"
"I dunno...maybe because you liked my poem."
"Oh," she said.
"You know, I didn't really write that poem."
"Oh."
She could see them spinning, laughing and smiling. Becky smiled warmly; happy to see that her sister was happy for she had never seen her sister so happy since the day Becky was born, remembering one-year-old Carrie's face looking at baby Becky in the cradle, smiling down at her, touching the soft skin on her face and holding her tiny hand. All that was past...Becky knew that Carrie had found true happiness.
From Inside Her Mind: The Mysterious Mind of Rebecca White (p.23)
Vic Mooney, Class President of the Senior Class, stepped up to the mike and said, "All right, ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats. It's time for the voting of the king and queen."
Carrie and Tommy sat down with Becky. Carrie picked up the ballot that was on the table and her mouth dropped open after studying it.
"Tommy," she said, quietly. "We're on here."
"Yea, I see," he said. "Want to decline?"
"I don't know. It's your crowd...I don't have a crowd."
"Come on, Car," said Becky. "I mean it's a once in a lifetime thing. It's not like it's going to happen again."
"Beck's right, Carrie," said Tommy. "I mean, if you win, all you do they take your picture for the yearbook and give you a dance to make you look like an idiot."
"So, who do we vote for?" she said.
"Yourselves," Becky said.
"No," said Carrie, "Don't..."
"Why?"
"Come on, Carrie," said Tommy, offering her a pencil. "To the devil with false modesty."
"To the devil..." Carrie laughed, and X-ed their names on the ballot...
Her laughter faded out in Becky's mind...so did everyone else fade out. The whole world around her became silent and she felt colder. She went into some kind of trance like state, and images flashed...seeing, smelling, tasting, and hearing. She saw an eye, a green one with mascara darting, a tongue licking lips, hands trembling, heavy breathing (all were in some nervous/excited state)...but oh! The smell! That horrible, coppery smell that made her head spin and her stomach sick...she could taste it too. Blood and steel! And a rope! A long rope leading somewhere to the sky...and a red splash falling from the sky...but where was it all coming from?
From The Shadow Exploded (p. 57)
The house was silent.
They were gone.
At night.
Gone.
Margaret White walked slowly from Carrie's bedroom to the kitchen, pacing around the table. First had come the flow of blood and the filthy fantasies that the Devil had sent with it, from both girls. Then, the power of the Devil had given them. It came at the time of blood and hair on the bodies
(momma, it's not satan it's the reality of puberty)
Oh, she knew the Devil's power. Her grandmother had it...she was able to light fires without stirring from her chair. It made her eyes glow with a kind of witch's light. Sometimes at supper, the sugar bowl would spin madly like a dervish. Whenever it happened, Gram would cackle crazily and make the Sign of the Evil Eye around her.
{Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live}
She died of a heart attack at sixty-six, when Carrie was only a year old and Becky, inside her womb, Momma had gone to Carrie's bedroom, not four weeks after the funeral, and there the child, laughing and gurgling, in her crib.
Margaret had almost killed her then. But Ralph stopped her. He shouldn't have stopped her.
Then, when Becky was born, it had come at the time of her birth when she saw she had birthed Satan's own image: that pale skin covered in the bloody placental membrane, her power...that power he gave her when she screamed and the heat would rise, the Devil gave her the power...the power to make heat and fire. But her eyes, Satan's own ebony black eyes that stared right at Momma. She tried to kill little Becky...sickly, ugly Becky with Satan's eyes. Becky screamed and there was fire! Yellow orange flames that licked her dress hungrily...
(slut!) Becky's voice whispered.
Ten minutes after eight.
She had been able to feel, actually feel, the Devil's power working in both girls. It crawled over you, lifting and pulling and burning like tiny, tickling fingers of evil that made your skin crawl and the hair on your neck stand. She had set out to do her duty again on Carrie, three, and Becky, two, when she caught them looking into the eyes of sin at Satan's slut next door.
(slut slut slut slut slut)
Then the fiery stones came and she had weakened. And the power had risen again after thirteen years. God was not mocked.
(slut slut slut slut slut)
First the blood, then the power
{you sign your name you sign it in blood}
now a boy and dancing and he would take both of them to a roadhouse afterward, to a parking lot and take them into the back seat, take them—
(I know what you did with daddy got in his bed spread your skimpy legs and FUCKED him you slut)
Blood was at the root of it and only blood could expiate it.
The only way to kill sin, true black sin, was to drown it in the blood of
{they must be sacrificed}
a repentant heart. Surely God understood that, and had laid his finger upon her.
(slut slut slut slut slut) Becky's voice got louder, singing in the tune of Bernard Hermann's 'Twisted Nerve' now.
Eight-thirty.
(slut slut slut slut)
She went to the kitchen, carrots laying on the carving board and the carving knife lying on top. She took a carrot, laid it carefully on the board and raised the knife and whacked at the carrot, cutting it twice and then she missed it...
Whack! Whack! Whack!