A/N: Hello, fellow readers. I'm the author of this story. I just wanted to thank you for taking the reading. So, for context, I started this as a small experiment inspired by reading several Carrie fanfictions. This got me thinking: how about making a Carrie fanfic in unknown territory? I have also read some Killer Instinct fanfiction, which is another inspiration. I wanted to bring these two worlds together and create something truly unique. It would be great to hear what you think of my work. Enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Killer Instinct or Carrie. They belong to their respective owners.
A weak groan left Carrie White's lips as her eyes fluttered open to the dark. A faint heartbeat filled her ears while her vision adjusted. In her last memory, the house collapsed, and rocks rained down. Carrie tried to sit up, squirming in pain, but something heavy pinned her. She scanned with furrowed brows, then paused at the dark outline above her. She held her breath and grazed her mother's stiff body.
Copper-blonde hair formed a halo around the woman's pale appearance. Dark blue stains tainted her full pink lips, and her eyes shut. A white nightgown draped her slender frame, covered in debris and dirt.
Carrie's adrenaline spiked as she screamed and pushed the body off her. Panting, she waited for movement, but nothing happened.
"Mm… am… ma?"
Her mother lay on her back, unable to speak.
"Mama? Say something!" Crawling toward the prone woman, Carrie called out again. She shook her body to wake her, but nothing. Sobbing, Carrie embraced her mother's body. She pressed her lips to her mother's scalp as she wailed. Tears poured onto her cheeks, blurring her vision. What happened? Why is Mama-?
Her thoughts paused when something warm trickled between her fingers. Carrie lifted her hand and froze at the crimson stain as she sniffled. The metallic scent of blood sparked memories in her mind. She remembered the fight for her life, the bloodied knife, and her mother's last breath.
Carrie shivered while shielding her mouth. She took slow breaths, fighting the urge to vomit. She rested her forehead against her mother's.
"She deserved it," a voice spoke in her head.
Startled, Carrie glanced around but found no one. "H-H-Hello?" Her chest tightened, and her breathing increased. As she sat still, expecting a response, her ears strained. After a while, she exhaled. Heat rose within her closed, puffy eyes. I'm having a nightmare. Once I wake up, Mama will be alright.
"Deny it all you want, but this is reality."
The girl's eyes twitched while scanning. Hidden debris barred her from each side, reminding her of the Prayer Closet. Its haunting conditions burned into her mind like a brand. With each passing moment, her trembling became more intense, her mind racing, and her body grew tense. Fear coursed through her veins as her mother's demands weighed on her.
Still clinging to her mother, Carrie rocked back and forth. Her teary eyes darted around until a bright orange light caught her attention. Was that an exit? Was God waiting for her?
Carrie kissed her dead mother's temple, hugging her one last time. She laid her on the ground, stroking her pale skin. Goodbye, Mama.
Her body aching, she arose. She staggered in the dark, her hands outstretched, until she stumbled upon something solid. Carrie glided her hands against the surface: smooth with rubble poking from the edge. With the light luring her in, Carrie climbed towards it, grunting. With every passing minute, her eyes grew heavy.
Almost there. God, give me strength.
A draft from the opening nipped her sweat-drenched skin. She pushed through the pain, her feet scraping against the debris. As she advanced into the beacon, she heaved some air. Closing her eyes, Carrie enjoyed the warm light caressing her. A knot formed in her stomach when she opened them.
Neither God nor Heaven awaited her.
Night fell upon the sleeping world as a cool breeze blew, with rows of lights gleaming. Across the quiet suburbs, houses sat next to each other. Behind her, her destroyed one-story blue house littered the lawn, along with rocks. A burning odor hit her nostrils, forcing her to shift to her right. Flames flared in the distance, and smoke filled the air.
"W-What happened here?" Carrie couldn't take her eyes off the destruction.
"Don't you remember? They pushed you too far, and you punished them," the voice echoed, almost taunting her. "They had it coming."
As she examined her dust-covered hands, her eyes widened with memories.
Prom Night 2013.
Pig's blood.
The attack.
"What have I done?" Carrie stepped on a glass shard hiding in the grass while stumbling back. In pain, she jumped away while a nearby streetlight shimmered. While rubbing her bleeding foot with her dirty hands, the girl froze. She focused on the streetlight, and when it flickered again, she guessed the reason behind it.
Her breath quickened as instinct urged her to leave. Various scenarios flew through her mind, each worse than the last.
As Carrie fled the back streets, sirens screeched in every direction, though faint. After some time, she reached a dense forest. She surveyed the burning town before fading into the woods, tears in her eyes.
Tree branches swayed with the evening breeze, and owls hooted their night songs. Moonlight shone through the darkness, lighting Carrie's path. Thick mud covered her feet, and thorny plants ensnared her tattered blue gown. Though she freed herself, the thorns tore holes in the fabric. As her back tightened, she stopped.
With a groan, Carrie wiped her fingers against the source. Blood blotted her fingertips when she pulled her hand into view.
Why Mama?
"Your mother never loved you," the voice said. "She used her 'maternal love' to commit her heinous sin: playing God."
Indifferent to the voice, Carrie resumed her trek. She wandered through the forest until she arrived at a beach. The wind carried sulfur from dried seaweed, and waves billowed against the shore.
While staring at the scenery, a subtle smile spread across Carrie's face. The beach was on her wish list after high school. To have the waves brush against her skin. She wanted sunlight to warm her face before death claimed her.
Shivering, exhausted, and bleeding, Carrie collapsed to the ground. Her face hit the sand as a lightless veil enveloped her. Whatever lay ahead would be better than this nightmare.
A glimmer of light flooded her vision, awakening her. She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the stinging brightness. Lamps dimmed over the cream-tinted ceiling. Carrie sat up, stunned to discover herself on a cot. Uncertain of where she was, she inspected the room.
Beside her cot was a mahogany desk with a reading lamp. Against the wall sat two desks; one had a TV. Dazed, she glanced down, her eyes bulging. Pink silk pajamas replaced the frayed gown. In addition, she had no blood or muck on her. While examining her clothes, a flurry of questions came to mind. Across from her was a man sitting cross-legged.
Subtle creases on his face revealed his life's journey. His bald scalp shone in the morning sun filtering through the window. A thick henna robe draped over his body, hiding prominent features. Wrinkles and liver spots covered his hands.
Amidst the silence, the man closed his eyes and pressed his palms together.
Carrie strived to leave without disturbing the man. Though subtle, her muscles ached as she winced. The weight of her body rooted her to the cot.
"You shouldn't move." The man's voice was light. He opened his eyes, revealing a brilliant brown hue. His gaze held comfort. However, it hid something else, and Carrie's body remained alert.
"Wh-what?" Her voice trembled.
"Your injuries left you unconscious for several hours. Let me change the bandages."
Frightened, Carrie retreated to a corner when the man arose from his cot. "P-Please…" Her eyes became damp with tears. Her body trembled as she curled up on her knees. "Please don't hurt me."
The man raised a calming hand. "Don't be afraid, child. There are no enemies here, nor am I one. You're safe. No one will hurt you."
Despite her caution, Carrie relaxed a bit. Her mother regarded men as ferocious beasts yearning for coitus relations. Why would this man be different? Why would he help someone so despised as her?
"Can I see your left arm?" he asked.
Carrie blinked at his request while searching for deceptive signs. She extended her arm, her mind still filled with suspicion. While the man rolled up her left shirt sleeve, Carrie recoiled from his touch but remained calm. The man removed a thin layer of gauze covering her arm. After assessing her injuries, he headed to the bathroom.
Carrie raised her arm, discovering a line of stitches tugging at her skin. They stretched downward toward her elbow. She stroked the sutures until she flinched, leaving them alone. Though brief, a memory of her mother cutting her crossed her mind. She gripped her leg as though the pain had returned. She furled up her pant leg, exposing more gauze. With knitted brows, she brushed her hand against the cotton fabric.
The man returned with a bowl brimming with water, setting it atop the wooden drawer. He removed a small rag from his robe and soaked it in the bowl. He cleaned between the stitches once he squeezed the excess water from the rag.
Carrie sucked air through her teeth. The dim lamps flickered for a moment until she relaxed. "Ex-excuse me, sir, did… did you do this?"
The man's face softened into a warm smile. "Please forgive me, but I couldn't bring you to the hospital."
He released her arm after completing his task. When Carrie yanked her arm away, cold shivers pierced her skin. Each breath rattled her lungs, and her heart pounded. Although the man advised her against moving, she ignored him and rushed to the window. Once she peeked outside, she froze. Only the sky and the ocean remained. The room swayed as sunlight poured in the window and moved along the floor.
Carrie backed herself into a wall, panting. Her body temperature rose as adrenaline shot through her system. She would call for help, but what if the authorities found her? Would they have her detained and later taken to jail? Or would they kill her?
The man tried to soothe the situation. "Calm down."
"W-Where am I?" Her voice shrilled with fear. "Where are you taking me?"
"I can explain, but first, calm down."
Carrie drew deep breaths, calming her racing heart. Her gaze remained fixed on the man while curled against the corner.
The stranger sat on Carrie's cot, his face calm. "This might shock you, but you're on a ship. On my way home to Tibet, I found your body on the beach. Something terrible must have happened to you, so I brought you here. Maybe you're a runaway, fleeing an abusive boyfriend or your parents. Regardless, I sensed you were trying to escape. I can't assume what you've been through, nor will I ask, but I promise you this. Once we arrive on land, you can roam anywhere you like."
The man's compassion stunned Carrie. How could someone act like that? However, she pictured what would happen if he took her to a clinic. Would doctors have treated her or called the police? In either case, she would never see daylight again.
"A-Are you sure?" she asked. "Y-You won't send me to a roadhouse or…?"
The man waved his hand. "No. A lovely girl like you deserves to live free and happy."
Carrie lowered her head. "Don't call me that, sir. Nobody would refer to me as that. They called me a sinner, creepy…."
"I doubt that is true. Once I finish changing your bandages, I will bring breakfast for us. What do you want to eat?"
Carrie fell silent. Through the man's kindness, she escaped her fate. With grim certainty, she closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter."
Nothing did.
A/N: As one door closes, another opens. Though it may not seem like it, good things can come from difficult situations. Will Carrie ever find the strength to pick herself up and start anew? Well, it's time for my brain to rest, so I'll see you next time.