Chapter 120
Carrie didn't feel well.
Ever since Randy left, Margaret seemed to have lost all her strength. It took Carrie calling her many times before she finally snapped out of her daze.
The first thing Margaret did after regaining her senses was drag Carrie to the bathroom.
She picked up the showerhead and started spraying water on Carrie without even caring if it was ice-cold.
Carrie realized that her mother might have been triggered, so she had to grit her teeth and endure as Margaret roughly scrubbed the marks on her body, forcefully peeling off her clothes in the process.
Seeing her daughter's body starting to mature, Margaret felt nothing but hatred.
"Tomorrow morning, we're leaving here. Maybe that way, there's still hope for you."
"No!"
Carrie refused firmly.
"He doesn't see you that way! Carrie, this isn't love."
"No."
Though Carrie's refusal was resolute, her expression turned gloomy.
"I don't care."
Even if she was a fool, she knew what a normal relationship should look like. What kind of boyfriend would she call "master"?
Carrie didn't dare hope for too much from their relationship.
Seeing her daughter's pathetic state, Margaret ground her teeth in frustration. To her, it seemed that her daughter had been trained by a devil to become this submissive! This was a betrayal of God!
Then Margaret resorted to self-harm again, trying to force Carrie to agree to her demands, but unfortunately, this tactic no longer worked on Carrie.
After repeated attempts to persuade her mother failed, Carrie's powerful telekinesis restrained Margaret.
Under Carrie's control, the two of them went downstairs together.
The door to the confessional opened.
Margaret was immediately locked inside.
"Mom, I hope you can think this through. If you really care about me, accept Randy. He's even willing to accept you!"
"Don't you dare mention that devil to me!"
Margaret's face was filled with hatred. Even as the door closed, her cursing couldn't be silenced.
"Mom, don't say that. You'll disturb Randy's sleep tonight."
Helpless, Carrie muted her mother's voice.
Worried that Margaret might self-harm again, Carrie tied her up with ropes and even laid a blanket on the ground for her to sleep on.
She had never been treated so well when she was locked up before; back then, she was made to kneel in front of a crucifix and pray all night.
After settling everything, Carrie closed the confessional door and leaned against it.
"Don't worry, Mom. I won't abandon you. I'll be waiting for you right outside the door."
Carrie said softly, not really expecting Margaret to hear her—it was just her way of showing resolve.
She wasn't going to leave tonight, no matter how unwell she felt.
Soon, Carrie fell asleep; she was simply too exhausted. After all, she was still just a normal girl, bound by the unspoken rule of high magic but low defense in America.
Even in her dreams, Carrie didn't dare to dream too boldly.
In her dream, Margaret no longer opposed Randy. Randy had transformed into some sort of deity, but Carrie could only watch him from afar. On rare occasions when he personally gave her a blessing, she was immensely satisfied.
Carrie slept until morning, but it wasn't a restful sleep—it was cold.
When she woke up, the first thing on her mind was Margaret.
Carrie checked the time; it was already past seven in the morning. Soon, she'd need to head to school.
She cautiously opened the door to the confessional.
She saw Margaret lying quietly on the floor, still covered by the blanket.
Was she still asleep?
Carrie turned around, contemplating whether she should make breakfast.
But as she was thinking, Margaret had already stood up, holding a wooden crucifix that had split open.
Margaret had used her teeth to break the crucifix after freeing herself from her restraints last night. The sharp wooden splinter was as deadly as a steel nail, and the crucifix in her hands gave her boundless strength.
Without hesitation, she gripped the top of the crucifix and thrust it toward the back of Carrie's neck.
At the last second, Carrie sensed the danger and dodged slightly, but the splinter still sliced through her neck, leaving a deep gash that caused blood to gush out.
Suddenly, a mysterious wave of energy separated the two of them.
All the electrical appliances in the house began emitting a violent electromagnetic noise.
"Mom?"
Carrie lay on the ground, clutching her neck. There was no anger in her eyes, only pain and fear.
"Daughter of the Devil! Daughter of the Devil!"
Margaret had been thrown against the wall by the wave, but she didn't give up. She grabbed a nearby fruit knife and, without hesitation, approached Carrie.
"No!"
"I don't know how to save you, but I know that if I bring you before God, He will forgive you."
"This isn't right, Mom!"
Carrie's fear deepened, and she tried to crawl away, but Margaret was faster. She grabbed Carrie's leg and immediately began dragging her back.
The sharp knife stabbed toward Carrie's back but was stopped by an invisible barrier, preventing it from penetrating further.
Carrie still couldn't understand why the two most important people in her life both wanted to hurt her.
"Don't do this, Mom. I don't want to hurt you."
But Margaret's expression turned crazed. "Come on, use your demonic powers to hurt me!"
She gripped the knife with both hands and pressed down hard.
Carrie looked into her mother's eyes, filled with hatred and murderous intent.
"Mom, please don't kill me."
Margaret hesitated, stopping her downward push, but she quickly raised the knife and thrust it down again, this time aiming for Carrie's head.
"No!"
The emotional pain overwhelmed the physical pain, and it triggered Carrie's magic even more.
A gust of wind radiated from Carrie, forcefully throwing Margaret against the wall.
"Bang!"
Margaret hit the wall hard, her body stiffening for a moment before collapsing to the ground.
When Carrie sat up and looked, she saw blood splattered on the wall. Margaret's head had struck the crucifix hanging on the wall, and the protruding figure of Jesus was now stained with blood.
It was a holy item Margaret had brought home from church just last week.
Seeing the dull look in Margaret's eyes, Carrie immediately realized what had happened.
"Mom!"
She rushed forward, cradling Margaret in her arms, feeling the warmth and wetness on her head.
"I... I saw God."
Margaret's voice was weak, but Carrie was in complete shock, unable to respond. She felt like her heart had turned to ash.
No matter what, the bond between mother and daughter couldn't be faked, even if Margaret had been so harsh with her.
Carrie couldn't accept this outcome.
Margaret lay in her arms, her breathing growing weaker and weaker, but she still struggled to speak.
"I should have given you to God, but the first moment I saw you, I loved you so much that I said to Him, 'God, let me keep her.'
But you've disappointed me again and again..."
Carrie knew that the word Margaret wanted to say was "disappointed," but Margaret would never be able to finish her sentence.
Because she was already dead, her eyes forever closed.
"Crack!"
The house's floor began to crack, followed by dust falling down. The furniture swayed.
Carrie sat there, stunned.
Her heart was crumbling.
And as it crumbled, so did everything around her. The ground shook, the roof collapsed, raining down stones and dust, and the floor opened up, creating a pit that blocked the way to the door.
At that moment, the door suddenly burst open, letting in the only light.
That light restored a bit of Carrie's sanity.
"Randy!"
She looked toward the door, where Randy stood, frowning at the scene inside before gracefully leaping in.
"Randy, my mom is dead."
Randy nodded. "I saw. Let's get out of here."
"My mom is dead. I killed her."
Carrie raised her blood-stained hands.
"It's not a big deal. I understand."
Randy continued to comfort her gently.
He had already told her before. Veteran Beverly had killed her husband, new recruit Bee had shattered her stepfather's balls with a kick, and Emma, still just a child, would probably turn on her family when she grew up.
By that standard, Carrie had passed her initiation by taking care of her mother with her own hands.
It seemed like everyone in his cult was a villain with a chip on their shoulder.