Break and Mend | "Lost and Found" Sequel

Chapter Thirteen: The Lost Sister

A/N: The beginning of this chapter is a very long flashback, just to prepare you

Warnings: guns, implications of suicide attempt and a still-born baby, mentions of suicide, murder, blood and death/dying

Word Count: 8552

Carrie wasn't sure if she could do this any longer.

For nine months of her life, she had prepared. Half of her home became someone else's. She bought bigger clothes for herself, she took her vitamins, her medicine. She ate as regularly as she could, she worked through the nausea and the pain to afford what they needed.

She cleared out her guest room and replaced the bed with a crib, she tidied it up with stuffed animals and storytime books. She even painted the walls yellow. All by herself. She had the baby shower that only a couple family members attended, but she was grateful for the things she received.

Carrie was ready. She was ready as ever to be a mother to her dear, beautiful (Y/N). She wanted nothing more than to hold the small child in her arms and cherish her for everything she was. A new best friend, a saving grace, a miracle. Carrie truly felt that she had no purpose in the world until those three pregnancy tests all appeared positive. She had no strength or even desire to keep going until she saw the small blob on the ultrasound that was her child. (Y/N) would be all she needed and more.

She would have everything Carrie didn't. While (Y/N) wouldn't have a father, she still had a mother that cared, which was already more than Carrie ever had. She wouldn't ever have to worry about anything in her life. Carrie would take care of everything. (Y/N) would grow to be the brightest and most beautiful girl in the world, and it would be her doing. Her influence. (Y/N) would be perfect, not because Carrie wanted her to be, but because she had already accepted her child for who she was before she was even born.

Even as a still-born.

She was at least told that her daughter was beautiful. That she had a nose just like hers. That she came out with a head full of hair. That she was born seven pounds, eight ounces. These were all questions Carrie had tearfully asked a nurse after awaking in her hospital bed. Each answer widened the bittersweet smile on her face and broke her heart even further. (Y/N) was perfect.

But now she had no reason to carry on. (Y/N) was supposed to be her reason, and Carrie couldn't even safely bring her into the world. She wanted to blame Dr Martin Brenner. He had lied to her. He said the experiments wouldn't harm her unborn child in the slightest. She was told that everything would be fine. Carrie had every right to sue those scientists pigs running Hawkins Lab.

Every right except for the fact that she never hesitated to volunteer. She had found out about her pregnancy two days after volunteering and she called nothing off. She took the risk, even if she was told there was none.

Even if Brenner were telling the truth, how could he have been positively certain that nothing would happen to (Y/N)? He couldn't. He was a scientist, his life work was testing a hypothesis and proving or disproving a theory. He didn't always know. And it was Carrie's fault for getting involved while knowingly carrying a precious life in her womb. At least, that's what she told herself.

(Y/N) made sure Carrie wasn't alone. Every day that she felt she was alone, that there was no one else in her world, she would get that morning sickness. She would feel the fluttering sensation of a kick. She would feel a contraction. (Y/N) was all she had and all she cared about. But ever since the birth, Carrie felt empty. There was no longer a child in her body, but it also wasn't in her arms. She wasn't sleeping soundly in her crib or playing with the stuffed elephant Carrie had fought a woman in the toy store for. She was alone once again. No one cared for her and she cared for no one else.