"Please, come in and have a seat."
Margaret extended a polite invitation. Her daughter, Carrie, however, reacted immediately. Knowing how unstable her mother could be, she quickly grabbed Margaret's hand and whispered, "Mom, Barry's a good person. Please don't say anything hurtful again."
Margaret blinked, then nodded enthusiastically. "Ah, yes, yes, you're right!"
Her sudden compliance startled Carrie.
Her mother—acting normal?
For once, Margaret seemed calm, almost ordinary. The fanatical look she usually had was gone, as if Barry's "holy light" had burned it right out of her.
Barry didn't mind the invitation, but Carrie's wide eyes darted between them in disbelief. She couldn't understand what was happening—her mother suddenly respectful, even deferential toward Barry, while Barry himself carried a faint air of superiority.
It was surreal.
Why had her mother's attitude changed so completely?
Margaret, still a little shaken, tried asking Barry a few questions about the Bible. Barry simply waved her off. "You should go learn that stuff properly at a real church. Stop trying to interpret it on your own—you don't have the wisdom for it, got it?"
After a short while, Barry noticed a small, unusual room in the house. It didn't look like a storage room. Inside were little religious figurines and a statue of Christ.
"Oh wow! Isn't that my buddy Jesus?"
Since he was already there, Barry figured he might as well be polite and pay his respects—but mindful of local customs, he settled for a quiet prayer instead of lighting incense.
"What's this room for? Some kind of prayer room?" he asked.
By now, Barry's sense for information had already told him—this was Carrie's punishment room. Her "solitary confinement."
"It's… it's the punishment room," Margaret said, looking embarrassed. Now that she'd realized how wrong her old "Bible readings" were, even mentioning that little chamber—with its cross and the suffering Christ statue—made her uneasy.
Barry crossed his arms behind his back, his tone suddenly that of an inspector on a surprise visit. "Who allowed you to do this? Was this just your idea, or is this something everyone around here does?"
"It was just me," Margaret confessed, her voice trembling. "Lord, please forgive me—I was wrong."
"Yeah," Barry said, nodding like a stern teacher. "Don't mess with stuff that's way above your level. You're nowhere near wise enough to handle it."
Margaret nodded again and again, fully chastened.
"And another thing," Barry continued, glancing at the creepy little room, "this place is terrifying. You have no idea how bad it is for a teenager's mental health. I'd suggest turning it into a game room—put in a console, some comic books, a few fun things. Trust me, the Lord would prefer that."
Margaret immediately agreed, promising to start remodeling the very next day.
For once, the atmosphere in the house was peaceful—everyone smiling, polite, and oddly content.
Before leaving, Margaret said she'd seen the light and would change her ways. With that, Carrie's path toward becoming a whole, healthy person suddenly looked much clearer. Barry said his goodbyes and drove home.
---
Inside Barry, something powerful was stirring.
Carrie White—born with a rare magical constitution—was a witch by nature. Once awakened, her psychic energy would surge automatically, growing stronger the more intense her emotions became.
After sealing their pact, Barry absorbed a portion of the harvested souls, drawing on that innate talent.
The seed had been planted. He now looked forward to watching it take root, grow, and transform him in turn.
Over time, Barry's soul began changing again—quietly, from within. A deeper kind of evolution was underway.
He would need patience.
The sweetest fruit always takes the longest to ripen, and Barry had plenty of patience.
---
In the days that followed, Carrie threw herself into studying—learning everything she could about the world, modern life, and herself.
But lately… something strange had begun to happen.
Carrie felt different.
It started after that day when Barry saved the "lollipop boy" from getting hit by a car. In that moment of panic, something inside her had exploded. She hadn't paid much attention to it then, but over the next few days, her emotions began to trigger bursts of uncontrollable energy that wrecked furniture and shattered glass.
It thrilled her—and scared her.
When she told her mother, Margaret's face went pale. After much thought, she told Carrie to seek help—from that friend who'd visited before.
So Carrie confided everything to Barry—her awakening, her strange powers.
Barry was startled. "Wait, what? You awakened this early?" That shouldn't have happened yet.
Could he have triggered it somehow? Maybe his interference had caused the change.
But more pressing was Carrie's behavior—she was getting emotionally unstable. Her messages had taken on a desperate, clingy tone.
> [Barry, I really miss you! When are we hanging out again? Heehee!]
> [Why aren't you answering? You have other friends, don't you? I'm not important anymore, huh?]
Stuff like that. Sweet, sure—but also a little intense.
Her mental state was clearly slipping, and Barry knew he had to step in.
They met again at the same fried chicken place from their first outing—Happy McLoukie's.
It had only been a few days, but Carrie looked… very different. Her eyes were sharper, her hair longer, and she devoured food like she hadn't eaten in weeks.
Two fried chickens, three Cokes, two orders of fries—all gone.
She looked like she could eat a horse.
But what really caught Barry's attention was the wildness in her eyes—a manic, lionlike intensity.
"Easy, Carrie. If it's not enough, I'll order more," he said calmly, waiting until she'd finished eating before starting the conversation.
"Were you that hungry?" Barry asked, frowning slightly as he studied her face.
"I just can't seem to get full lately," Carrie replied, wiping her lips with a napkin before fixing him with an amused stare.
Her gaze made Barry uneasy—like being hunted by something dangerous.
"W-What's with that look?" he stammered.
Mine.
Wait—what?
Barry stiffened. For a split second, he could've sworn he'd heard something terrifying.
But Carrie's lips hadn't moved at all.
A few seconds later, she looked away, flustered. "N-no, nothing!"
Really nothing?
Barry wasn't so sure. He was positive he hadn't misheard.
Could Carrie have accidentally let her thoughts slip out loud?
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