They shuffled in and out. Faces without names. Names without faces. No one made any attempt to disturb her. It’s her life they probably thought. All sense of time was lost on Carrie. Days, weeks, minutes. She could have been lying there for years. The sheets underneath her were stained through with her own waste. Her once blond curls matted, ripped and torn beyond recognition. She’d lost all respect for herself. Nobody else seemed to care. She was beyond saving.
Carrie would just lie there all day staring into nothing. Then she saw it. A bright light. A blinding light pouring through a deep crack in the wall. As she looked around the room nobody else seemed to notice. Maybe nobody else wanted to see it. Perhaps nobody else needed to.
“Is it a way in? Is it a way out?” she whispered. No answer came.
Then suddenly they appeared. One by one.
Her father said he loved her. He doesn’t blame her for what happened. She’s still his baby girl. He forgives her. Can she forgive him? Should she forgive him? She’d loved him once. Maybe she still did.
With Carrie’s mother’s arrival there followed silence. Hushed moments of pained but somehow mutual understanding. He’s my husband! He was my father! Tears flowed on both sides. If asked her mother would say she knew nothing. Her mother would know what her father wanted her to know.
Brad. Catcher’s mitt ready to play. Carrie had been such a sport when younger. Brad said she’d be the first girl to play for the Springvale Lancers. She was good enough but things just didn’t work out. Girls are meant for other things. That’s what her father assured her. She loved her brother. He was the only one who ever really listened to her. The only one who believed.
As suddenly as it had come the light quickly began to fade. The crack was almost closed. Carrie’s eyes rolled skywards. The needle fell to the floor.
These 333 words are my entry into the Trifecta Week 86 writing challenge.