Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 38.
Nothing's going to stop me

The same day Carrie met Matilda in that park and encouraged her to accept Tommy Ross' invitation, he appeared in front of her house. Tommy intercepted her on the sidewalk as she made her way there from the park, just at the time she knew her mother would return. Carrie was quite surprised by this sudden encounter. Still, she was also quite nervous at the idea that any vehicle that turned the corner was precisely her mother's.

Tommy quickly made his intention very clear: he wanted to ask her again about the dance, questioning that her first response had not been favorable. This somewhat cheered the young White, but his insistence also added a little more discomfort to the situation. Normally, it would be hard enough to convince her mother to accept the whole idea. However, it would be without a doubt impossible if she sees her standing next to a boy right in front of the house. Carrie imagined the thousand and one things she would say and do to him, and the prom subject would be totally put aside forever. A bit by the nerves of that happening, but mostly buoyed by the talk she had just had with Matilda, she decided to quickly accept the invitation, hoping Tommy would leave as soon as possible.

The boy looked happy for her answer; happier than she expected. He agreed to pick her up on Saturday at 7, and then he left. And it was then, just when she was alone again, that the whole reality of what was happening fell on her. But... it wasn't unpleasant, really. In fact, for the first time in a long time, she felt tremendous emotion and joy coursing through her entire body. She would go to the dance with a handsome boy... like an average teenager. That was real; it was really happening.

That night, she did not touch the subject with his mother. She had to see the right way and time. But she couldn't let time pass; the day of the dance would come in the blink of an eye, after all.

The next day, after school, Carrie did not meet with Matilda, but she did not walk straight home as she usually did. Instead, she went to the bus stop and took the one that took her to Westover, a town near Chamberlain. Her intention was to head straight for Main Street, where all the big stores were located. That was the kind of places she knew girls would go with their friends to buy things they couldn't find in the more modest shops in Chamberlain. Or sometimes just to walk around and eat something. After venturing to take the bus to Boston at that same stop, going to Westover alone seemed like a child's thing.

It was incredible what she was launching to do in such a short time. Herself from a couple of months ago would surely not even recognize her current self.

Carrie walked for a while, looking at the shops' windows, admiring the dresses displayed in them, outlining the slim figures of the mannequins. She'd already imagined herself wearing something like that on a few occasions. Still, the idea of ​​actually doing it felt quite far away, like an impossible fantasy. But there she was now, about to make it happen. The dresses on the sideboards were beautiful, but she had a specific idea in her mind of what it must look like, and none of them satisfied her. In the end, the idea of ​​doing it herself, just as she imagined it, tempted her more than any other. If there was one good thing among all the things her mother had taught her, that was definitely sewing. Why not take advantage of it?

She used most of the money she had saved from odd jobs with her mother to buy a long piece of salmon-pink fabric, just the tone she wanted; that had to be fate. There was no way she could have gotten it in the Chamberlain stores where her mother used to buy fabrics. In none of them could something so beautiful exist.

By the time Carrie finished shopping and took the bus back to Chamberlain, the day was getting dark. Her mother had surely come home hours ago and had found no sign of her. At any other time, that single possibility would have scared her to death, but not today. She had to start working on the dress as soon as possible, and she couldn't do it secretly from her mother. For this reason, she had made up her mind to tell her mother about the prom that night and let what had to happen.

"I know it looks that way at the moment. But sooner or later, you'll have to make your own decisions and decide your own path. Although for this, you have to go against your mother's wishes."

Those words that Matilda had said gave her the strength to do so. She just hoped it was enough.

She got off the bus at the same stop where she had gotten on. And from there, she walked down the street towards her house, with the piece of cloth hidden in her backpack. The sky was flashing, and a damp breeze blew and stirred the trees. The rain was about to fall, and it would definitely be strong. When she was near the house, the twinkling light of a lightning illuminated the silhouette of her mother, in her long dark dress and her hair down, standing on the porch and looked in her direction. That terrifying image stopped her, and for a moment, she felt the air escape from her lungs.

Her mother made no move to approach her; she just stood still watching her, not even blinking.

Carrie sighed and pushed herself forward.

"Where have you been?!" The woman in black yelled at her angrily as Carrie climbed the two steps that led to the porch. "I was worried sick!"

"I'm sorry I'm late, mom..." Carrie replied with her head down as she passed in front of her.

"Don't talk, just come inside."

The woman practically pushed her into the house, and Carrie didn't put up much resistance.

Once they were both inside, Mrs. White slammed the door behind them, causing the windows to rattle a bit. The entire interior of the house was lit only by candles. Her mother had already secured the windows in preparation for the impending rain. Carrie lowered her backpack and placed it slowly on the hall floor, as if afraid to break what was hidden there.

"Your supper's cold," her mother reproached her with some boredom in her tone. "Now I'm going to have to heat it up."

Mrs. White walked into the kitchen, armed with a candle she had taken from the dining room counter to get a better view. Carrie walked behind her, some submission in her step. She really believed she was ready, but the mere presence of her mother bent her down more than she expected

"Where did you go?" Mrs. White questioned her again while she opened the oven and inserted the container with the dinner's remains.

"I'm sorry, mom," the young woman apologized, her eyes downcast. "I took a bus to Westover and bought cloth for a dress..."

"Westover?" She cut her off abruptly sternly, raising her piercing blue eyes straight at her like two razors. "What were you doing there?"

"I told you, I bought cloth..."

"You aren't to go anywhere but to school and back, and you know that," Mrs. White stated sharply, putting an end to any other explanation she thought of giving. Carrie only managed a silent nod.

The woman turned back to the wood oven, slowly muttering words that Carrie couldn't understand. She began to try to light a match. The first two attempts were in vain, and the third broke it. She took a deep breath through her nose, trying to assuage her anger, and then tried again.

"Mom, before you say anything else, I've to tell you something," Carrie murmured more confidently than before. "Someone invited me to the prom."

Mrs. White froze, not looking at her or reacting. Her eyes were fixed on the interior of the oven, which resembled a deep dark cavern.

"Mom, I've been asked to the prom..." she repeated as if she thought she hadn't heard her correctly.

"What prom?" The woman muttered, turning her face slowly towards her. Her gaze was cold and hard.

"The graduation dance. It's next Saturday, and everyone will go."

"Oh, God; Oh, God..." Mrs. White muttered, clutching her head with both hands and beginning to shake. "Why? Why...?"

Carrie ignored her mother's reaction and kept talking despite it.

"His name is Tommy, and he's a very nice boy. He'll come and meet you before, and he promised to have me home by 10:30."

"No, no, no..." the woman repeated several times, like a thought aloud that escaped her. She stood up, taking a few steps away from Carrie. She shook her head and entire body from side to side. Carrie approached her to prevent her from completely moving out, thus stopping listening to everything she had to say to her. She had already taken the first step; she could not go back now, or perhaps she would not be able to do it again.

"Mom, I already accepted..."

As soon as Mrs. White heard that, she turned to look at her incredulously, with her eyes wide and full of astonishment.

"I know this scares you a lot; it scares me, too. But understand that I'm not like you. The other kids at school... they all think I'm weird. And I don't want to be like that. I want to be normal. I want to try to get along better with people before it's too late..."

Her mother abruptly silenced her words with a tremendous slap perpetuated by her heavy hand. This was so strong and almost made Carrie's full-body spin and collapse. However, instead, the young woman was practically thrown against the kitchen table and managed to lean firmly on it to avoid falling hopelessly to the floor. A whimper of pain escaped her lips, accompanied by some sobs. Her face quickly reddened where she had struck her.

"Indecent whore!" Mrs. White murmured with the anger building in his throat, leaning her body towards Carrie until she almost pressed her face against her daughter's left ear. "With all I have taught you, with all I have cared for you, how could you fall so easily into their clutches?!"

"It wasn't like that... it wasn't like that..." Carrie whimpered, taking a deep breath to try not to lose the poise with which she had started this feat. She sat up slowly, cupping her flushed cheek in one hand. "Things are not as you say, Mom. There are bad people out there, but not Tommy; he's good. You'll like him. He's a very nice boy ..."

"Boys, boys..." Margaret White muttered wryly. "Of course. After the blood, the boys come, sniffing and slobbering like dogs."

"Enough, stop it ..."

When she started talking like that, it was impossible to make her see reason. By mere reflex, Carrie stormed out of the kitchen with her head bowed toward the living room. Her mother was now the one who was behind her, harassing her senselessly, almost whispering her words at the back of her neck.

"He'll sniff you until he finds out where the scent of blood is coming from. And when he finds out, he'll take you, Carrie. Between the trees, in his car, out in the cold, where the canteens, the roadhouses, and the whiskey are."

"Stop all this madness," Carrie murmured, trying to turn around, away from her. But the woman followed her, overwhelmed with her presence, with her only voice...

"I've seen what they do with the other girls, and you won't be one of them. You'll tell that boy you're not going."

"I won't do that."

"If you don't, we'll move from here. We will move, and we will never stop moving!"

"No..."

"You're going to go to your closet immediately. You're going to go in there and ask for mercy. You will beg for forgiveness!

"I won't!"

"Go to your closet, now!"

"No! I will never do that again!"

Her scream echoed with a loud crash, louder than any lightning that resounded outside. Abruptly, and in response to her own cry, the armchairs and tables in the room rose until they collided with the ceiling as if an invisible being had taken them with its hands and raised them above their heads. The pictures on the walls also jumped, including the Last Supper's huge tapestry from the dining room. The few decorative objects that were there, and even the candles; everything around them at that precise moment leaped into the air of its own accord.

Margaret White saw all this in shock and fell to her knees in panic. She screamed in terror, in disbelief. She lowered her head in supplication for a few seconds. She then slowly looked up again, only to see that everything was still floating around her as if the entire house had been turned upside down. She didn't understand what had happened... but Carrie did.

The young woman was also surprised. That wasn't part of what she planned to do; that had happened out of nowhere, without consciously proposing to do it... but she had no regrets about it.

Her mother was still on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her in prayer position, and she was looking at her with wide and lost eyes. Carrie felt she was questioning whether she was the one doing it or not and immediately felt the desire to clarify her doubt. She blurted out everything, perhaps more abruptly than necessary, taking only primary care with the candles. She put everything back in place, and her mother let out another scream of terror, more discreet than the previous one, but still quite intense. She hid her face behind their clasped hands and began to whisper.

Carrie looked at her in some amazement. That was something she hadn't witnessed before. Seeing her mother there, sunken and trembling on the ground, for the first time she seemed so small; so... pathetic and insignificant...

"Mom, stand up," Carrie asked calmly, but the woman remained on the ground, murmuring prayers. "Stand up, please," she asked again in the same way, receiving the same result. "Stand up!"

Then she reached out her hand to her, and the woman rose into the air with a sudden jerk until her feet were off the floor and she was floating in the middle of the room. Mrs. White let out one more scream of panic, which Carrie had to accept that she enjoyed a little.

"Witch..." the woman snapped in a dry voice. "You are an unholy daughter of the Devil..."

"Don't call me like that," Carrie replied, truly hurt to hear her call her in such a derogatory way. "There are no witches."

"The devil is in you... the devil is in you..."

"It's not the devil, Mom; it's me. Other people do the same thing that I do, or even more."

"You poor girl, you don't understand. You don't know what's going on... He won't let you see that He's working through you..."

"No, you're the one who doesn't understand," the young woman pointed out with fervent conviction. "Dr. Honey explained everything to me..."

"Doctor?" Her mother interrupted sharply. "That woman? Is she the one who instilled all this in you? Don't you realize that she is a servant of the Dark One? She only came to knock on our door to get you away from the correct path..."

"No!" Carrie yelled, and the whole house shook slightly as if it were in the throes of a small earthquake. Margaret White howled in fear again. "She has been more of a mother to me these days than you have been in my entire life. She told me that I must begin to impose myself on you, to make my own decisions, and everything will be better when I do... and she's right."

Carrie released her mother and let her fall to the ground of her own accord. The woman collapsed again and stood there, moaning and praying, asking for forgiveness and strength. Carrie didn't really understand what she was saying, but she didn't care either.

"Pray all you want, but I'm going to the prom," she stated bluntly, indifferent to whether her mother was listening to her or not. "And nothing's going to stop me..."

She approached her backpack, lifted it off the ground, and headed for her room, passing right next to the woman. This one continued with her prays.

"So let's not talk about it anymore. I have a dress to do..."

Proud of what she had accomplished that night, Carrie went to her room, and that same night she began making her dream dress.

The emotion that flooded her was so great that it made her heart race as she didn't know was possible. She always thought she was destined to bow her head to her mother, classmates, teachers, and everyone who wanted to trample her. But that moment had shown that it didn't have to be this way; no more.

"I really think you are an exceptional person, Carrie... even if you have a mother and classmates who don't always appreciate you right now. But one day, things are going to be very different..."

She felt so good and strong. Dr. Honey was right in everything she had said. Now everything would be different...

— — — —

The week went by quickly, and Carrie worked too hard each night to finish the dress on time. While she was in her room with the sewing machine running at full speed, from time to time, her mother's distant prayers would reach her from the living room. She tried to ignore them as best as possible and focus on her work.

The final details were finished just Saturday morning. After her mother left for work, the stillness of the house helped her focus on that last stretch. She had put it on some times during the process to check that everything was fitting, but once it was finished and ready, for some reason, she was scared to put it on. Or, maybe fear was not the right word.

She took a bath, washing herself as she had never done before. Mainly she washed her hair very well so that it didn't show at all greasy. During the week, she had bought a curl conditioner and some makeup. She had never made up herself, and her mother definitely wouldn't help her with that, but she hoped to get it right. After bathing, she dried her hair and combed it as best she could. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right, but she liked what she saw in the mirror. Her hair shone, and its shape was defined and beautiful.

Then she went on to put on her dress. Taking a deep breath to pluck up her courage, she pulled off her bathrobe, slipped on her underwear and a bra, according to the type of dress she would wear, which she had also purchased during the week. And right afterward, she slid the soft fabric of the dress over her body from head to toe. The fall was perfect, the feel of the gender against her skin comforting but sinful at the same time. The last of her few savings had gone into a pair of beige mid-heeled shoes, which she slipped on before daring to look into the mirror.

Her own reflection was overwhelmingly unfamiliar to her. The way her hair fell, how the dress closed the figure of her torso, how it exposed her arms, her neck, and especially the upper part of her bust in that beautiful neckline to which she had dedicated so much time to make it look perfect. She felt for a moment the instinct to raise her arms and cover herself, but she caught herself and instead lowered her arms abruptly to her sides. He had nothing to be ashamed of; the dress was beautiful, discreet, and formal. It had been based on several of the dresses she had seen on the sideboards in Westover, and it was just as she had imagined.

It was close to seven. She then began to put on the best possible makeup: a base to cover her imperfections, a little mascara, a slight blush, and a discreet lip gloss. She didn't want anything exaggerated. She never used that kind of thing, and the least she wanted was to look ridiculous. And looking at the end result, to be her first time... she actually didn't do that badly. She looked as pretty as any other girl in school, or even a little more.

Carrie was delighted with how she looked. She immediately wanted someone to see her, and who better than the person to whom she should thank for all this?

She looked under the mattress of her bed for the cell phone that Matilda had given her. There she hid it from her mother because, indeed, her first instinct if she saw it would be to throw it against the wall until it broke. She immediately stood in front of the mirror and took a photo with the device's camera. Even then, she was amazed at what could be done with one of those.

She then sent the photograph to Dr. Honey, accompanied by a text:

My dress and I are ready.

Carrie placed the phone on the desk and went on with her arrangement. She tried to imagine the reaction Matilda would have when she saw her photo. She would surely not be able to recognize her, either.

A minute or two later, she heard the answer come in, so she rushed to check. Her lips curved a small smile as she read her message:

You look beautiful!

Have fun

Having fun, if that was possible for a change, she definitely would.

Then she heard the front door open; her mother had returned. By mere reflex, she approached the mattress and hid the phone under it again. When her mother appeared at the bedroom door, Carrie was back in front of the mirror, touching up her lip gloss. She pretended not to notice her in the mirror reflection, but it was hard enough not to. The woman was standing there, staring intently at her with such severity, disgust, and even horror, that she almost felt those deep blue eyes pierce the back of her neck.

Carrie tried to pretend and carry things in peace. She slowly turned to face her and smiled as sincerely as possible.

"Welcome, how did it go?" The young lady asked with encouragement, but her mother didn't answer anything; she just kept looking her slowly up and down, undoubtedly scrutinizing her dress. Then Carrie took the corsage made of a single pink rose and held it out. "Do you want to help me with this, Mom?"

"Red..." was the first thing that emerged from Margaret's lips, pronouncing it as if the very word disgusted her. "I should have imagined it would be red."

"It's pink, salmon pink."

"Your dirty pillows are showing. Everyone will see them. The Bible says..."

"Breasts, Mom, they're called breasts," she interrupted, annoyed, and then turned back to the mirror to put on the adornment on the right side of her dress herself. "You have them too, like all women."

The decoration was finished; it really suited her.

"Take that dress off, Carrie," her mother snapped harshly behind her.

"I won't do that."

"Take it off, and we'll burn it together, apologizing. It isn't too late."

She felt a strange feeling of pleading in her voice that she didn't remember hearing from before. Was she asking? Margaret White never asked; she demanded, and her will had always been the law. How she had fallen so fast. It was sad but mostly satisfying.

"Mom, stop that."

"Call that boy and tell him you're not going. I don't want you to be hurt."

Carrie snorted slowly, already a little annoyed by her attitude.

"Could you at least try to be a little happy for me?" She stared at her for an answer, but Margaret White just fell silent, watching her with her cold, hard expression. "I suppose not..."

The sound of a car horn honking in the street was then heard, which put them both on alert. Carrie felt her heart skip. In theory, she was already dressed, combed, and made up, but abruptly she didn't feel ready at all, as if she was still naked. She hurried to the window and leaned out of it, expecting to see Tommy, parked in his vehicle right in front of the house. He was not him; apparently, it was just a vehicle that passed down the street and then drove away.

Carrie sighed, a little relieved... but also disappointed.

"Maybe he won't even come," Margaret White muttered. "He's have cheated on you, played with you as always."

"Mom, stop if," the young woman replied harshly. "I'm too nervous enough to deal with your words."

Margaret White let out an intense scream similar to pain. Suddenly, she raised her right hand and began hitting herself on the head with the back, apparently quite hard. As she did so, she whispered in a dry, stern voice.

"Wash yourself in the blood of the Lamb. Rest assured that your sin will be discovered, Carrie. Rip the color of the devil from your body and burn it!"

"Don't beat yourself up like that. You won't make me stay with that," was the only thing Carrie replied, as she glanced at her over her shoulder.

How transparent and obvious her manipulations and tricks became at that moment. Carrie wondered how she hadn't realized this earlier. She only had to impose herself on her once; she only had to stand above and look down at her, to understand what a mad, poor woman she was.

They both turned to the window again when they felt a vehicle pull up to the side of the curb. Carrie stared in wonder at a long, sleek, shiny white limousine, and almost immediately afterward, she saw Tommy Ross, climbing out of the back, wearing a thin white suit and black pants. Carrie felt all the air leaking from her body, and her heart raced with excitement.

The moment had come.

"If you go to that place, they'll only laugh, tease and hurt you," she heard her mother utter practically in her ear, abruptly pulling her out of her happy thoughts. "I'll meet him at the door and tell him you're sick. You can stay with me: we'll pray together."

Carrie took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

"Good evening, Mom," she answered curtly, turning her around to calmly head for the bedroom door. "I'll be back early."

As well predicted, the woman did not leave things like that and inevitably left the room behind her, and then followed her down the stairs.

"Regret it, Carrie; it's not too late," Margaret muttered insistently, but Carrie came down trying not to pay attention to her. "As Jezebel fell from the tower, so will it be with you. And the dogs came and licked the blood. The Bible says so! You'll not allow any practitioner of witchcraft to live."

Carrie was silent. She finished down the stairs and crossed the hall to the door.

"If you insist on disobeying me, I'll have to tell that boy about your demon powers!" Her mother yelled loudly, and that did make Carrie stop in her tracks.

The young woman slowly turned to her again, but her expression was no longer at all calm. This was aggressive, filled with quite palpable and deep anger.

"Don't you dare," Carrie replied with a tone of clear threat.

Both remained standing in their respective places, looking at the other with intensity as if they were in the middle of a staring duel. Only the sound of Tommy's knuckles knocking on the door brought them out of that state. Margaret White suddenly made the gesture of wanting to go to the door. She took two steps to the side to get her daughter around, but her entire body suddenly froze, and she was unable to move a single finger. Glancing at Carrie, she saw that the girl was looking at her with even more intensity than before.

"I'm warning you, Mom," she whispered hoarsely as if the accumulated anger was closing her throat and making it difficult to speak. And, of course, she was quite angry. Much of it accumulated over the years, stored deep in her chest. But she didn't have to hide it anymore.

"The Devil controls you, the Devil is in you..." the woman whispered with the remarkable presence of apprehension in her voice.

"You've got me fed up with that..."

Carrie violently waved her right hand to the side, and Margaret White's entire body was thrown in that direction, across the hall to where the stairs were. However, it was not to the stairs that she was going, but to the closet door that was just below them: her prayer closet, where her mother locked her up to ask for mercy every time. According to her, she committed some sin that merited it, which in fact was quite often.

The closet door slammed open, and Margaret's body entered the closet until she was sprawled on the floor. By the time the woman managed to react and look up, the door closed before her, and soon after, the locks were placed. All this, without Carrie moving from her place.

Margaret began to try desperately to open the door, grasping the handle and pushing it with her whole body. But the door wouldn't budge. Carrie stared at the closet door, shaking with every knock she gave it. A part of her felt bad; she was her mother, after all. But... how many times had she locked her there for hours? Not caring if she had to go to the bathroom, eat, do homework, or whatever. In comparison, a couple of hours there could hardly be considered fair.

"Don't say anything until I'm gone," Carrie ordered sharply. "I arrive at 10:30. Wait there... and pray..."

She walked with a firmer step towards the door, but before opening it, she stopped, turned back to the closet, and whispered very slowly:

"I love you..."

Carrie walked out of the door immediately after. Waiting for her standing on the porch, she met Tommy. He had always been a handsome boy, but today it seemed almost unreal. The orange light of the impending sunset illuminated him. His dark brown hair was perfectly combed. He looked spectacular in his black and white tuxedo suit that outlined his athletic figure. As soon as he saw her, the boy smiled gently at her, and she couldn't help but do the same.

"Hi," she murmured nervously.

"Hi," he replied, apparently much calmer.

"Do you like how I look?"

Tommy looked at her for a few seconds, in which Carrie felt quite nervous but also excited.

"You look beautiful," he answered suddenly, causing the young woman's cheeks to blush even more than they already were. He then extended his left arm, offering it to her. "Let's go?"

Carrie nodded sheepishly and took Tommy's arm. He began to guide her down the porch stairs, and then they walked together toward the gleaming limousine.

END OF CHAPTER 38

Author's Notes:

—Most of this chapter is based on the events of the movie Carrie of 2013, but also took into account some aspects shown in the film of 1976 and others chronicled in the original novel. In addition to this, there are some own additions regarding the personalities and reactions of some characters. The next chapter will be similar in this regard, recreating only the crucial events from Carrie White's perspective.