Carrie White (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
creepycarrie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hellhouse2019-07-10 08:10 am
creepycarrie) wrote in hellhouse2019-07-10 08:10 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Carrie White & Peter Parker
WHAT: Arrival
WHERE: First floor dining room
WHEN: July 10
WARNING: TBD
WHAT: Arrival
WHERE: First floor dining room
WHEN: July 10
WARNING: TBD
The last thing that Carrie expects after the house caved in is to wake up, in her prom dress, no less, somehow miraculously clean of all the pig's blood and dry as though nothing bad had happened to begin with. At first, when she sees the boy with his head down across the table from her, Carrie thinks maybe it's just Tommy and they'd tired themselves out and fallen asleep at the table; maybe everything was just a real bad dream and none of it really happened.
It only takes a second to realize that there's no music and this isn't the gym. He's smaller than Tommy; he's not actually Tommy. And, maybe most damning, Carrie's back is still aching sharply where Momma had stabbed her.
This is real. She's dead. She got Sue out of the house safe and Carrie died in the rubble and now it's just a matter of time before Satan comes for her. Carrie was born a child of God, but she's pretty sure God doesn't love abominations. She's pretty sure God doesn't love mass murderers. Carrie is both of these things. She's not going to Heaven after everything she did. This is Hell, it's got to be.
Carrie pushes herself to her feet and looks down at the unsoiled dress. It makes her chin quiver and she wants to cry. Why did they have to be so mean? She hadn't even wanted to go to the stupid prom. She should've trusted her instincts and just stuck to her guns and said no; kept sayin' no. Tommy didn't wanna be there with her, why would he have? Momma had been right all along. They'd just wanted to laugh at her. They had always wanted to laugh at her.
Well, now they were havin' the last laugh. God probably took all of them into Heaven for being victims of her wrath and she's been banished like Lucifer. Being in this dress, a dress that she worked so hard to make perfect and beautiful only for it to be completely ruined on what should've been the happiest night of her life, is a good start to making her feel tortured. It's just a reminder of everything she'll never be, ever. She'll never be pretty. She'll never be loved. She'll never be normal.
Ignoring the boy entirely, assuming he's perhaps just a figment of her imagination or a manifestion of yet another temptation — one which Carrie is not going to give into this time, not even in Hell — she moves to a corner and kneels on the floor facing the wall, head bowed in prayer. Maybe that's not allowed here or maybe God won't hear her, but she has to try. Hurried whispers of prayer escape her until she startles at the sound of something moving and she whirls around to face the rest of the room again, shaking with the fear that only dying and going to Hell, she supposes, can instill in a person like her.
It only takes a second to realize that there's no music and this isn't the gym. He's smaller than Tommy; he's not actually Tommy. And, maybe most damning, Carrie's back is still aching sharply where Momma had stabbed her.
This is real. She's dead. She got Sue out of the house safe and Carrie died in the rubble and now it's just a matter of time before Satan comes for her. Carrie was born a child of God, but she's pretty sure God doesn't love abominations. She's pretty sure God doesn't love mass murderers. Carrie is both of these things. She's not going to Heaven after everything she did. This is Hell, it's got to be.
Carrie pushes herself to her feet and looks down at the unsoiled dress. It makes her chin quiver and she wants to cry. Why did they have to be so mean? She hadn't even wanted to go to the stupid prom. She should've trusted her instincts and just stuck to her guns and said no; kept sayin' no. Tommy didn't wanna be there with her, why would he have? Momma had been right all along. They'd just wanted to laugh at her. They had always wanted to laugh at her.
Well, now they were havin' the last laugh. God probably took all of them into Heaven for being victims of her wrath and she's been banished like Lucifer. Being in this dress, a dress that she worked so hard to make perfect and beautiful only for it to be completely ruined on what should've been the happiest night of her life, is a good start to making her feel tortured. It's just a reminder of everything she'll never be, ever. She'll never be pretty. She'll never be loved. She'll never be normal.
Ignoring the boy entirely, assuming he's perhaps just a figment of her imagination or a manifestion of yet another temptation — one which Carrie is not going to give into this time, not even in Hell — she moves to a corner and kneels on the floor facing the wall, head bowed in prayer. Maybe that's not allowed here or maybe God won't hear her, but she has to try. Hurried whispers of prayer escape her until she startles at the sound of something moving and she whirls around to face the rest of the room again, shaking with the fear that only dying and going to Hell, she supposes, can instill in a person like her.