Nine - Shadows and Secrets

Shadows and Secrets

Carrie lay in her bed, staring at the cracked, plastered ceiling. Shadows played tricks on her tired mind, but sleep refused to come. The house was as silent as a tomb, yet she felt the weight of restless souls around her—her family, as fractured and broken as she was.

She glanced at the alarm clock's glaring red numbers: 3:30 a.m. With a sigh, she swung her legs off the bed, her feet cold against the wooden floor. She moved carefully, avoiding the creaks in the boards as she padded to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, her hand hovered over the small orange pill bottle. Her doctor had warned her about over-relying on them, but tonight she didn't care. She swallowed a pill dry, the bitter taste lingering as she climbed back into bed. Finally, she drifted into the void of dreamless sleep.

When Carrie woke up again, the sunlight seemed too bright, like an unwelcome intruder piercing the heavy gloom of the house. She pulled on a rumpled hoodie and jeans, her hands moving sluggishly, and yanked her hair into a messy ponytail. The weight in her chest hadn't lifted—it had only grown denser.

Downstairs, the kitchen carried the faint scent of coffee and toast. Her mother stood at the counter, staring into her mug, her blue power suit looking stark against her weary expression. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed the sleepless nights she shared with Carrie, but her posture was tense, resolved.

"I'm going to the office today," her mother said quietly, breaking the silence. She turned to Carrie, her voice soft but firm. "It's time."

Carrie froze, her chest tightening. "You're leaving?" she asked, her voice sharp. "Just like that?"

Her mother set the mug down, her hands trembling as she adjusted the cuff of her blazer. "I've been home for two weeks. I need to keep moving—for Brian, for us."

Her words sounded hollow to Carrie. Movement didn't mean progress; it just felt like forgetting. Carrie's throat tightened, the frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "So what? You'll just pretend everything's normal now?"

Her mother's gaze softened but stayed firm. "I'm not pretending everything's normal, Carrie. I have to keep going."

David, standing next to their mother, looked between them, his eyes heavy with understanding. "Mom's just trying to hold it together," he said quietly. "We all are."

Her mother closed her eyes, steadying herself. "And I know it's not fine, honey," she whispered. "It will never be fine. But we can't let this destroy us."

The words struck something raw in Carrie. Destroy us? She already felt destroyed—shattered beyond repair. Her breath hitched as she grabbed her bag and stormed toward the door, the weight of their grief suffocating her.

Carrie turned away, shaking her head. She grabbed her bag, the weight of it a reminder of the emptiness inside her, and stormed out without another word.

Outside, the cold air hit her like a slap, but it did nothing to clear her mind. Her thoughts spun in chaotic circles. School felt like an endless maze of pitying stares and whispers, but home wasn't any better. There was nowhere she could escape the truth: Brian was gone, and nothing would ever feel whole again.

Carrie trudged through the school hallways, the weight of everyone's pity heavy on her chest. Classmates she barely knew whispered condolences, their voices dripping with a sympathy that felt more like an accusation. "I'm so sorry for your loss," they'd say, as if it could somehow ease the ache inside her. But it didn't. It made it worse.

She passed Brian's locker, now a shrine to his memory—pictures, notes, and flowers clashing with the dull, indifferent walls around it. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to break in front of them.

The whispers grew louder, turning into rumors that had no real foundation. Most of them centered on Kai, a boy Carrie had never really noticed until now. His name became a shadow hanging over everything. At first, she dismissed the talk, but it followed her, worming its way into her thoughts until she couldn't escape it.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Carrie ducked into the bathroom, slamming the stall door behind her. The cold metal pressed against her back as she sank to the floor, knees pulled to her chest. Her breath came in short, jagged bursts.

She wasn't crying—she hadn't cried for days—but everything felt like it was on the verge of cracking. The world outside didn't feel real, just noise and empty words. She just wanted it to stop. To be left alone, to breathe without the suffocating weight of everyone's eyes on her.

"Why doesn't anyone understand?" she thought bitterly, as the restroom's silence echoed her grief.

Carrie's breath caught as she overheard a conversation in the bathroom. She had been trying to escape the world outside, but now it felt like the universe was pulling her back into its chaos. "I'm scared, Kai," a girl whispered. "The next full moon... I don't know if I can control myself."

Kai's voice softened, a stark contrast to his usual aloofness. "You're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

the girl's voice cracked. "You don't understand. I'm losing control. And Brian..." Her words caught, guilt thick in the air. "I didn't mean to kill him. But I did."

Carrie's heart was still pounding as she slowly shifted her position to peer through the gap in the stall door. Her pulse quickened as she spotted the girl standing with Kai, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. The girl's pale face was streaked with tears, her trembling hands clutching her bag like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Carrie's stomach twisted with recognition as she saw the girl more clearly. Abbie. Her brother's... killer. The truth slammed into her with the force of a freight train. Abbie, the girl she had once talked to, the girl she had seen in passing, was the one responsible for Brian's death.

Her chest constricted as the reality of it all sunk in. The anger was quick to rise, but so was the overwhelming pain. Abbie was here, breathing, alive, while Brian... Brian was gone. Carrie's hands balled into fists as the weight of grief hit her again, more suffocating than before. She wanted to scream, to confront Abbie, to make her feel the same raw agony, but instead, she stayed hidden, watching, unable to do anything yet.

Abbie's voice echoed in her mind. I didn't mean to kill him. But I did. The words churned in Carrie's stomach, twisting, tearing at the fragile barrier she had built around her heart.

The tears she had been holding back since Brian's death now threatened to break free, but Carrie fought them back, focusing on the anger. It was all she had left. Yet, the anger was nothing compared to the hollow ache that spread through her chest. The girl responsible was just another victim of whatever world they were all trapped in, but it didn't make her any less of a killer. Abbie had to pay. And Carrie would make sure of it.

But for now, she stayed hidden, watching the girl who had stolen everything from her.

The entire day felt like a blur of calculated movements for Carrie as she stalked Kai and Abbie, the rage building with every step they took. She watched them move through the halls together, their laughter and easy camaraderie only deepening her hatred. How could they just walk around as if nothing had happened? As if Brian's life meant nothing?

After school, Carrie followed Abbie to the library, a place she knew Abbie frequented, watching her sit down and study with quiet intensity. The library was dimly lit, the muffled sounds of pages turning and pencils scratching creating a serene atmosphere. Carrie sat a few tables away, pretending to skim a worn magazine she had picked up on a whim.

The tension in Carrie's chest grew as her eyes flicked between Abbie and the bag slumped beside her. There's something there. Something that could expose her. Every moment spent in her presence felt like a betrayal—Abbie, the murderer, and Kai, who didn't seem to care. Carrie's nails dug into her palms as she fought to keep her emotions in check, knowing she couldn't act yet.

Carrie's heart raced as she noticed Abbie cap her pen and rise, gathering her books. Without glancing in Carrie's direction, Abbie made her way toward the restroom, leaving her bag behind.

The moment the coast was clear, Carrie moved swiftly. She slid into Abbie's seat and peeked inside the bag. Her fingers brushed against a leather-bound book embossed with intricate symbols. Pulling it free, she noticed another smaller notebook nestled beneath it—the word Diary was scrawled on its front.

Carrie didn't hesitate. She slipped both items into her own bag and quickly returned to her seat, her pulse pounding in her ears. She stared blankly at the magazine, feigning calm as Abbie re-entered the library, oblivious to what had just happened.

Later that night, in her room, Carrie locked her door and pulled the items from her bag. The leather-bound book sent a chill down her spine before she even opened it. Its cover was embossed with an ouroboros, the ancient symbol of a snake devouring its own tail.

Inside, its pages were filled with illustrations of creatures she had only heard of in whispered tales. Vampires. Werewolves. Witches. Each entry was accompanied by scrawled notes in Abbie's handwriting—observations, warnings, even personal accounts.

The diary, however, was more revealing. Its pages were raw and messy, filled with Abbie's deepest fears and confessions.

Carrie's breath caught as she read one entry:

"I can't keep this secret much longer. If anyone finds out what I am, what I did, I'll be hunted like the rest of them. But Brian... I didn't mean for him to die. If only I could undo it all."

Carrie's pulse quickened as she absorbed the words on the page, her mind reeling with disbelief and confusion. The diary was a window into Abbie's dark secret, revealing the monstrous truth Carrie had feared. The mention of Brian hit her like a punch to the gut, the pain resurfacing anew.

But there was more. The rawness in Abbie's words—the fear of being hunted, of being exposed—felt like a confession Carrie wasn't ready to hear. And yet, she couldn't stop reading. The gravity of the situation dawned on her: Abbie wasn't just a murderer; she was something other, something dangerous. The anger inside Carrie was undeniable, but it was mingled with something else—fear, awe, and a sick curiosity about the supernatural world Abbie had touched. It was all too much, too dark, too real.

Carrie's hands shook as she set the book down, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. The proof was undeniable, but now she had to decide what to do with it. Was revenge her only path? Or could she find some way to make sense of this twisted reality?

She waited until the house had fallen silent, her mother's soft snoring a constant hum from the other room. She checked the clock—2:00 AM. With quick, practiced movements, she grabbed her bag, sliding the diary and leather-bound book inside. Her heart hammered as she crept to the window, pushing it open and letting the cool night air wash over her.

With a final glance back at the house, she slipped out into the darkness, determined to find a friend who could help her make sense of it all.

"Going somewhere?"

The voice, smooth and sharp as a blade, froze her mid-step. She whipped around, clutching her bag. Kai stepped out of the shadows, his hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets. His face was illuminated by the faint glow of a streetlamp, his expression one of infuriating calm.

"You've been busy, Carrie," he drawled, his tone mocking but laced with something darker. "Watching, sneaking, stealing. Quite the résumé you're building."

Carrie's chest tightened as she stepped back. "Stay away from me."

Kai tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, I've noticed you, Carrie. Every corner, every shadow—the whole day you're there. Creeping around like some amateur detective."

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stand her ground. "I know what you and Abbie did. You think you're untouchable, but you're not. I'm going to make sure everyone knows what you are."

Kai's smirk widened, but his gaze turned colder. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "And what exactly do you think I am, hmm? A monster? A murderer? Or just the convenient scapegoat for things you can't begin to understand?"

Carrie swallowed hard, "Brian didn't deserve to die."

"I think he did deserve it," Kai said, his voice suddenly softer, almost regretful. "But do you think you're ready for what happens next if you expose this? The truth isn't a fairytale, Carrie. It's blood and shadows and things that will eat you alive if you're not careful."

Her resolve faltered, but she refused to let him see it. "You can't scare me into silence."

Carrie's hand tightened around her bag as Kai loomed closer, the weight of his presence bearing down on her like a storm. His smirk faded, replaced by an intensity that chilled her to the bone.

"I don't need to scare you, Carrie." He leaned in, his words brushing against her ear like ice.

Before she could react, pain seared through her side—a sharp, hot sting as his blade found its mark. Carrie gasped, her knees buckling as the world spun.

The pain hit her like a wave of molten steel. The blade dug deep, searing through her side with a burn that didn't stop. Carrie's breath hitched as the pain twisted inside her, each pulse of blood matching the thudding of her heart. Her vision blurred, the edges of the world growing dark and distorted. The cold, sharp bite of the blade made her dizzy, her body unable to hold its weight as she crumpled to the ground.

Before everything went black, she felt the weight of the books being pulled from her bag—Kai's cold fingers taking them from her grasp.

Kai crouched in front of her, his expression unreadable as he watched her struggle. "I warned you," he said, almost softly, before standing and vanishing into the shadows, leaving her alone in the cold, silent night.