Prom Queen ｡ Michael Langdon

20 - PRINCESS OF DARKNESS

     Her sleep was dark and peaceful. So still and cool like a frozen lake that one would believe this was death. But as Carrie stirred awake, and when she remembered what she had done on the night of prom, she wished her slumber had been sweet, sweet death. 

     Her skin was clean, but the blood that had decorated her skin like red tattoos had sunk into the lining of her flesh. She could feel it, like a snake crawling, slow and calculated. The second her eyes opened to the world, tears pooled. Sleep had cured her power-sore body but not her sorrow. Carrie edged herself up onto her arms, blinking in her surroundings. Thin grey cotton sheets, a neat yet boyish bedroom. Books and DVDs (mostly horror and slasher flicks) were stacked in a tower on a desk and a pair of unlaced military boots were sitting by the bed. 

     The prom queen knew where she was instantly—across the one-way street in a bedroom that she had often imagined in her mind. She was in Michael Langdon's bedroom, tangled beneath his grey cotton sheets, and she was sweating. Sweat had taken the place of the pig's blood. It glossed against her skin and the air was thick and sticky with it. How on earth did anyone live in this hotbox of a house that burned with the fires of hell? 

     "You're awake!" Michael popped up beside her, his blond curls framing his striking face. His smile was infectious but only tears escaped down her cheeks. She had massacred her fellow students, in a fashion that riled against Tate Langdon's massacre, and had murdered her dear mother. 

     "Michael." Her voice was dry, brittle. "You should've let me die." 

     "I couldn't let that happen. Not ever," he replied as he lowered himself onto the bed too. The mattress groaned under the new weight. Carrie's sweat was mixing with her tears. "You've been asleep for thirty-eight hours," he added, his fingers twitching to hold hers. 

     Carrie shook her head and she just couldn't be thankful or grateful that Michael had saved her life. "My mother's dead!" she choked out, her lips trembling. Her mind flashed with a steak knife rooted into her mother's chest, blood soaking into the carpet in the lounge room. 

     "Death comes for us all eventually," he stated plainly. Michael was being blasé about Carrie's loss, and while he was empathic to her feelings, he had no need for them. He had lost so much already and he didn't need a mirror in Carrie Moore right now. No, for there was so much to celebrate, so much to plan. Michael's nonchalant demeanour turned Carrie's stomach. She had literally lost everything and all due to her own hands. 

     "I've destroyed everything!" Her heart ached and her chest felt tight, her breathing uneven. Outside the window lay the ruins of the Moore house, just rumble and ash. Surely someone had called the police by now, but nothing was left to investigate. 

     "Destruction is a form of creation," he quoted Donnie Darko, taking her hand now. Carrie didn't have the heart to rip her hand away. And in reality, Michael Langdon was all that she had now in this giant, lonely and ugly fucking world. "Come, Miriam is making breakfast." He guided her out from under his sheets and down the hallway towards the kitchen that opened to the dining area. Carrie felt like she suffocating in the stuffy, sweltering air and a ceiling fan was spinning and spinning overhead, yet it did little to cool the air. Miriam Mead, draped in a long chiffon dress detailed with a red and gold pattern, moved away from the kitchen counter, holding plates of French toast, dusted in icing sugar. 

     The woman still looked harsh and cruel even in the morning light, her eyebrows pointed and jet-black hair gelled back. "You've made quite a mess, young lady," Miriam uttered, clicking her tongue. Her tone came off as disapproving, but the woman was impressed, though she wasn't about to admit it out loud. "Sit. Eat." Carrie obeyed the woman, dropping into the chair furthest away from the Satanic alter were the flames of black and red candles burned steadily.