Carrie’s gaze followed seabirds spiraling through the porthole, tiny silhouettes skimming the glittering surface below. The engine’s pulse thrummed through the deck—a steady beat, not hers. Salt air fogged the glass, masking the waves and sky. She pressed her fingers against the cool window, her eyes tracking the birds’ fierce, free arcs. Carrie sat on the bed, arms folded tight. Silence prevailed in the room, broken by the engine’s thrum and the caw of seabirds. She woke three weeks ago, beside the stranger. The stillness had not broken the taut tension that bound them.
Carrie sensed a shift in his gaze. The calm between them was neither menacing nor ominous. She fought the urge to keep her distance, yet his stillness intrigued her. He spoke no words and never intruded. She had never experienced such calm. In her hometown, acceptance was nonexistent. Teachers dismissed her, students mocked her, and home offered no shelter. Her mother punished her with scripture, her voice choked with righteousness. Carrie remembered the sting: locked in the Prayer Closet for dropping a fork at dinner. “A lesson in humility,” her mother had called it.
Her powers arrived, surging like a breath released. Hope flickered; she might reshape herself. However, Prom Night shattered the illusion. The blood, the lights, the screaming—the memory burned. She vowed never to use that power again.
After weeks of silence, Carrie cleared her throat. “Um… hey.” The man didn’t move. Then, his head tilted. His eyes remained closed in meditation. “What’s your name?”
One eye opened, gaze steady. “My friends call me Baki. Still wondering why I helped you?”
Carrie drew back, fingers knotting in her lap. No one addressed her without pity or fear. Kindness always demanded a price.
Baki exhaled, eyes unwavering. “I meant it—I couldn’t leave you there. I brought you aboard; the captain was curious, but I told him you had sustained injuries, and I was a healer. He believed me and agreed to your passage.”
“Wait… is this a kidnapping?”
“Call it a rescue.”
“And the authorities?”
“I’ll handle them. I have a visa. If they ask, I say you’re with me. They won’t question it.”
“What’s a visa?”
“A document granting residence in a foreign country,” Baki said. “Don’t worry. I know how to talk to people.”
Uncertain, Carrie trusted Baki’s plan, yet unease persisted.
The sun set, and daylight thinned. Its warmth left the deck. Shadows grew across the ship as lanterns came on, their glow no defense against the settling dark.
Carrie crept to the bow; the sea sprawled, a dark, moonlit canvas. Stars flickered, distant. Waves caught silver, shimmering. Cold, briny spray hit her skin; the wind tore at her hair. Memories clawed forward: blood, fire, and indelible screams. Carrie bent her head.
God, I didn’t mean to hurt them. Her shoulders shook. Salt stung her lips. All I craved was acceptance. Tell me. If You’re here, Lord, why does love feel like a punishment?
No answer came.
***
On the twenty-fifth day, land broke the horizon. The vessel turned toward the Meghna River, its hull cleaving the calmer water. Carrie saw passengers crowd the deck, their faces glowing.
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Killer Instinct: Carrie Unleashed
Fanfiction"You can only push a person so far before they break." The dark veil of the Black Prom Massacre still hangs heavy over Chamberlain, Maine. Everyone believes the tragedy's catalyst, Carrie White, is dead, but they are wrong. Barely clinging to life a...
