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Everything was engulfed in flames. The gym, the cars, the houses - everything. Your vision was compromised by the thick smog in the air of your town and left you to rely on your other senses. But all you could smell was the burning fires and all you could hear were the pained screams of people who either couldn’t find safety or witnessed someone who hadn’t. And you were terrified that it was you who was next.
Your home, one you had resigned to after leaving your school’s prom early, was burning down in front of you. The crashing of walls and shattering of frames echoed in your ears. The smoke was burning your lungs and your breathing had gone hoarse. You were going to die in your own home at the cause of fires that had spread across your town.
At some point since the fire had reached your home, you had fallen to the floor. Your head was dizzy from the smoke and your lungs were aching. In fact, you were prepared to just curl up and wait for the fire to end you. It seemed like there was no hope you would be able to get out - that you would be able to survive - and you didn’t want to use the energy you still had in vain.
The door was close, but you couldn’t move. Your body was far too preoccupied with coughing and coughing. The smoke was too thick. But the door was just there.
You had begun to crawl, slow as the coughing never ceased, and tried to get out. If you were to die, you didn’t want it to be this slow. So painfully slow. One of your arms was wrapped around your stomach, it was as if it was offering some stability while you were in such an unstable environment, but it only made your crawling attempts that much more in vain. But you couldn’t stop, not here.
Not when the door was that close.
Your fingertips just scraped against the wood, it was warm. A cry left you, turning quickly into coughs as more smoke strangled you, as you tried to stand up. You needed to brace yourself against the door, growing in temperature, but you had managed to get up. Though you were mostly leaning against the door, you were up.
The door handle was scalding, you could feel it burning into the palm of your hand, but you were almost out. You pushed through it and turned the knob, the door practically fell open and you literally fell onto the front porch of your house.
You had begun greedily inhaling air, smoke still both inside and out but there was just so much oxygen. Your mind started to clear and the coughing started to stop as you crawled off the porch and toward the road. All your neighbour’s houses were alight, some of their cars following in suit, and you could hear their screams of pain.
Tears were cascading down your face when you reached the road. You wanted to cry out in victory but instead, you just turned onto your back and watched the night sky through those clouds of evil smoke. Your breathing was still heavy and shallow, taking in more gulps of oxygen than your lungs could handle, but you were out.
You were free.
Someone walked up behind you, you could feel the vibrations and hear a sort of splatter with each step. When you leaned your head back to see who it was - you were only greeted with bright, stinking red.
Through the blood, you could smell the stench of it despite the smoke your nose was growing used to, you recognised her face. Carrie White. Her eyes were wide open in shock and her movements were jittery yet robotic. Her head snapped toward every noise and then, eventually, toward you as you reached your hand up for help.
You had seen her earlier that night at the school prom. She looked beautiful. You had even told her so, too which she had brightly blushed. Her hair was done and she had experimented with makeup - she stood out among the other people you had talked to.
It was a far cry to see her painted in the blood. Blood that stained her beautiful dress and dried in her hair. You both wanted and were too scared to think of just what happened at the prom after you left. Though you were somewhat glad you weren’t there.
“Carrie,” you cried out, your voice coming through in coughs. She stared wildly at your hand, as it was still up for her to hold, and then stared down at your face. More specifically, your tears. Her eyes moved over your body, taking in the ripped outfit you had worn that night and the burns beginning to show on your skin, “please help me.”
Did she have any proper reason to help you? While you didn’t partake in the whole period incident that took over the school, you didn’t exactly try and stop your friends from their taunts. Fuck, you were just as guilty as them. All you could do was hope that she would help you.
You felt your body lift from the ground, but Carrie was still standing where you had seen her. This time it was your eyes that went wild as you continued to fly upward until you were standing in the air, your feet a metre from the road you were so happy to have reached. You started to shake, how the fuck were you levitating.
Carrie’s head tilted to the side, her eyes somehow wider than before. “Please,” you begged once again, fear taking over your body as the relief quickly faded. She was doing this - you knew it. Though you didn’t care to ask why. You just wanted to be put back on the road and get away from the fires, more cars having burst up once Carrie gave them a stare.
She put you back down on the ground, nice and carefully. Once your feet hit the road, you stumbled over and Carrie reached down to pick you back up - this time with her hands and not telekinesis. Her hands cupped your tear-stained cheeks and she thumbed away another tear, despite them continuing to fall.
The blood smeared onto your cheeks, but you didn’t care. You still didn’t care as you reached forward and hugged her as tightly as you could. She stood in shock as you hugged her. “Thank you, Carrie,” you cried out, relief lacing your words. She had been such a nice person, despite all the horrible shit your classmates (and even friends) had put her through. There was no reason for her to save your life, but she did.
The fires continued to light, in houses and cars (you even saw a few bins light up) as you and Carrie stumbled through the streets. You both had gotten to her own home, and she told you to wait for her on the porch as she spoke with her mother. And you did just as she told you.
It was until you heard groans of pain and screams from Carrie you ran inside and saw it. Saw her mother dead on the floor and Carrie clutching her knees and rocking. You slowly approached her, stepping over the dead body, and mimicked her earlier movements by thumbing away her tears. She stared up at you, tears still falling from her tears, and you felt a sense of deja vu from not even ten minutes earlier.
“It’s gonna be okay,” you told her, stroking her still blood coated hair as she cried into your chest. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.”