Watching Carrie lying still in Eleanor’s arms, I felt a mix of emotions. Guilt at having been the instrument of whatever it was that had just happened to her and relief that she appeared to have found some sort of peace in it. Perhaps her life had been taken away, but at least she was no longer a prisoner to her body’s unnatural urges.
“She’s waking up!” John said with more than a little alarm in his voice. He and William exchanged quick, knowing glances and each took a hold of one of Carrie’s arms. Her eyes slowly blinked open, but rather than a blank stare, they displayed a look of disorientation. “What happened?” she asked
Some ancient maternal instinct seem to kick in as Eleanor cooed to her, “It’s OK, Carrie. You relapsed, but you’re fine now.” Carrie looked at John and William, who slowly released their grip. Her arms free, she lifted a hand to her forehead. “My head is killing me,” Carrie said as she winced.
“Well, you were acting like a real asshole,” Tammy told her. Eleanor shot Tammy a dirty look. “Tammy, be nice! This poor girl has been through enough without you giving her sass.” As usual, Tammy appeared unimpressed. “So is she like your pet now?” Eleanor shook her head sadly, “Have some compassion.”
Tammy opened her mouth to deliver what I’m sure would have ended up being yet another indecipherable metaphor involving an animal when a distinct, metallic thud resonated throughout the room.
The heavy steel door had been unlocked and was slowly creaking open.