My New Home

60. Numb II (3rd Person)

King furiously wagged his tail back and fourth, this caused his tail to brush against Carrie's face in the cramped mini van of Hanks.

The two, the girl and the Golden Retriever, were in the backseat. Carrie gripping the seatbelt that kept her safe.

Hank was in the drivers seat while Eric stayed in the passenger seat, anxiously tapping his fingers on the center console.

They were in the middle of a silence.

One that has persisted.

Not by Hanks doing, who had desperately tried to make conversation with Carrie. He offered her many things like pasta, her favorite food, even asked if she wanted to stop somewhere for anything she wanted.

She politely declined everything he offered.

Eventually he gave up on that after Eric whispered something to him, Carrie didn't hear what was said but, if she was being honest with herself, she didn't want to know.

It would most definitely be something bad, she thought.

Like how she's a lost cause or that she's broken.

She thinks- no, she knows- that she's broken.

She's trying her best to be here in the moment, with Hank and Eric, but her mind won't stop wondering to other places. Other people.

Bill. He was always there, maybe not physically but mentally.

Jude who, unlike Bill, was still alive and free. The man he's coming back for Owen and Elliott.

Carrie wasn't much of an optimist now but- she did find a silver lining.

'Boys..' Jude had said. Not boy, singular. Not 'I killed Elliott, now I'm finishing the job with Owen' that most certainly meant something.

Owen and Elliott.

They were both alive.

She managed to safe Elliott.

At least she was good for something, she thought.

She wondered how the rest of the boys were doing.

Eric, on the outside, seemed to be okay. But that was him always. The big brother you counted on when things got tough. He was selling it well but, like anyone, he needed a break from carrying the weight of this stress.

Carrie so intensely wanted to help. To rip some of the weight of his back and carry it with him.

She couldn't.

Not only would he not let her but she's already crumbling under her own boulders. Hers were different from his.

While his were expectations, stress and pressure to be the reliable one- Carrie's was trauma, depression and the crippling image of watching herself stab her father in the neck with a broken wine bottle.

It played over and over again in her head, among other distasteful memories of that night. And other nights she shared with him.

Owen. Oh Owen.

Carrie expected a blow up from him. Then either a very long period of silence or a quick make up and him going back to normal, loving Owen.

She hoped, well hopes a bad word since she has none left anymore, for the latter; sure she'd have to deal with a pissed off Owen but she'd rather have that then no Owen at all.

Luke and Liam. Well she didn't know. Luke would be fine, Liam's the one who'd be pissed if anything. She hoped the twins, or at least the smart Liam, could be able to compose themselves.