1CarrieThe little voice in the back of Carrie’s head, the one that sounded unnervingly like Mama, told her again that she was doing the wrong thing. That she was going to screw up, like she always did. Carrie had thought she’d learned to quiet that voice with the help of her therapist, but there it was, whispering in her ear as she pulled into the gas station.
She knew she shouldn’t have visited her mother earlier that day. But a month ago Aunt Deb had emailed to tell her that Mama was very ill. Formidable Mama, who rarely had a chance to sit unless she was in church or polishing someone else’s silverware, was confined to her bed.
Had Mama asked for her? No, Aunt Deb had admitted. She’d thought Carrie should come anyway. Even though the last Carrie had seen of her mother was a callused palm flying toward her cheek, a month into her senior year at Cedar Lake High. Mama had finally found out what had happened at the cabin, and instead of comforting her heartsick daughter, she’d responded with uncontrollable rage. Carrie had packed a bag, taken a bus to her dad’s, and never looked back. Until today.
No one would’ve blamed Carrie if she cut Mama out of her life. Her therapist had even encouraged it. Carrie still needed to learn how to end toxic relationships, especially after her messy split with her ex-boyfriend Daniel.
But when the opportunity to return to Cedar Lake presented itself, Carrie had decided to drop by her old home. Even though, according to Mama, she’d lost any claim to being her daughter four years ago.
Aunt Deb had smiled nervously when she’d let Carrie into the old apartment. Aunt Deb, Mama’s sister who’d painted nails in a town two hours away, had always seemed carefree and glamorous to Carrie. Now the lines around her mouth pinched with worry instead of laughter. Mama wasn’t an easy woman to live with. Carrie knew that firsthand. Unfortunately, neither Mama nor Deb could afford to hire the nurse Mama needed, so Deb had moved into Carrie’s old bedroom and taken a job at the Cedar Lake spa.
The apartment was shabbier than Carrie remembered, or perhaps Aunt Deb wasn’t as finicky a housekeeper as Mama. The glass covering the portrait of the Virgin Mary was smudged. Dust blanketed the votive candles and religious tchotchkes that crowded the shelves. The only shining thing was Mama’s rosary, sitting on the arm of the threadbare sofa, the beads glossy from years of use.
All the childhood photos of Carrie had been taken down, which didn’t sting as much as she thought it would. It only strengthened her resolve to move on. Mama had; why shouldn’t she?
The apartment still smelled the same, however. Like mothballs, canned soup, and the sickly sweet wax of the candles Mama prayed over. The scent triggered a cascade of unwelcome memories. Carrie steeled herself with a deep breath and silently repeated the affirmation she and her therapist had come up with.
I am a strong woman who can’t be hurt anymore. All her courage dissipated as a shockingly weak voice called from the main bedroom. “Who is it, Deb?”
Aunt Deb gestured at Carrie to go in. Carrie swallowed hard. “Hello, Mama.” She stared down at the wisp of a woman buried in the sheets.
Mama’s thin eyebrows drew together, and she struggled to sit up among the lumpy pillows. “Oh, it’s you. Just when everyone was starting to forget what you did. Have you returned to disgrace me again?”
The sneer on Mama’s lips and malicious glimmer in her eyes were a gut punch, even though Carrie hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms. “Of course not, Mama,” she answered in a small voice, the old shame searing through her like molten lead.
“Why’d you have to come back here?”
Carrie was reminded of the scene in
Friday the 13th Part 3 when Chris’s old flame Rick asks why she’d returned home. To prove her own inner strength to herself after a traumatic past event, Chris had replied. But Carrie couldn’t tell Mama that. Her mother would scoff and tell her that only praying would give her strength.
Carrie had tried prayer, with zero results. Now it was time for action.
“I just wanted to—” she started.
“Have you returned for
him? I hear he’s back in town.”
Carrie’s mouth dried up. Flushing to the tips of her ears, she fled the room.
Aunt Deb hovered anxiously outside the doorway, wringing her hands. “She’s not having a good day today,” she whispered. “Maybe come back later.”
Carrie had nodded, blinking back the humiliated tears she’d sworn she would never cry again. This would be the last time she’d see Mama. There was nothing for her here anymore.
And so she was heading up to the cabin a little earlier than she’d planned. Via the scenic route. She avoided Cedar Lake’s main roads and instead stopped at a gas station closer to a neighboring town. She didn’t want more people to recognize her than was necessary, even though her therapist had told her it was important to acknowledge the past in order to move on from it. She didn’t know what she’d do if the people of Cedar Lake reacted how Mama had. Returning to the cabin was intimidating enough.
But her therapist was right. Leaving home four years ago hadn’t solved a thing. It hadn’t taken away the devastating shame. She needed to accept her mistakes, or else her regrets would follow wherever she went, stalking her like the killer in a horror movie. Otherwise she’d always be looking over her shoulder, terrified that everyone she met would recognize her from The Photo.
And a weekend in the woods was a good way of dealing with the emotional fallout from her breakup. She was still processing how things had gone down between her and Daniel. His domineering personality couldn’t follow her to the cabin, not with the secluded location and spotty cell service. She shuddered, thinking of his last text message from the night before. She should’ve blocked his number but knew he would’ve bought a burner phone and kept texting her anyway.
I’m coming for you, Carrie.
He wouldn’t be able to find her now.
The gas station was deserted, save for a white SUV with a Park Services logo parked beside one of the pumps. Cedar trees rose from both sides of the highway, obscuring all signs of human civilization. Just what Carrie hoped for. The lonelier, the better. She pulled up beside the second pump, behind the SUV, and climbed out of her car.
Copyright © 2026 by E. L. Chen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
