"Where... Where are we going?" Carrie asked, bloody arms wrapped around your waist hiccuping and sobbing, as you were driving your car.

You didn't answer, but you kept stroking her hair. Because you didn't know yourself. It's been thirty minutes exactly since the bloodbath.

All you knew was that the cops were probably after you and that you should have taken Carrie away a long time ago.

You were her only friend. The only haven of piece she had. You never judged her, always tried to understood, and more importantly... Cared about her. All your belongings, Carrie and yours were on the seats behind, and the radio at full volume, already speaking of what happnened at Thomas Ewen.

Her grip around your waist tightened: "I want a normal life," she muttered between hiccups and sobs.

And you were going to give it to her.

Period.