DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to Carrie or Jennifer's Body, but can I own the rights to Jennifer's body? (gets zapped by Satanic lightning!) Okay, I deserved that.

Margaret's voice rose above the radio's muddle of static and Positive 89.3: "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in Heaven and Earth is named, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His Glory, to be strengthened with might by His Spirit in the Inner Man."

Carrie did not recognize the rest of her mother's spiel, as there was a thick fog condensing her train of thought. Tomorrow's the March to Zion, the Final Judgement, the Trial led by Pontius Pilate—Carrie would've preferred to call it the First Day of School, but her mother wouldn't allow such a simplified lexicon. They hadn't shopped for supplies like most families do; her mother salvaged her daughter's scathed binders and made sure to wash her many shirt-waist dresses. Carrie tried not to show her dismay, but if her smile didn't appear as genuine as she'd hoped, her mother didn't notice.

Part of her looked forward to school starting, as this would be her Final Judgement (or, as most teenagers call it, Senior Year). One more year, one more thrust into the social confluence that had rejected her long ago. It would be one more year of the Hargensen party, as well as the Nolan party, and their vicious sneers would merely be temporary. However, an inkling of brooding knowledge became acquainted with her: even in her last walk of life, the feeling of not belonging was now elongated.

Jocund vulgarity, secret smiles in a school assembly while Principal Grayle produced an optimistic façade; assignments graded based on the student rather than the source material; teachers that will never listen unless it's an examination of graphs that document world population and food supply; an incessant need to shock, and the shock that you feel when you can't go through with it; snickers, pinches, and maybe a book flung here and there for better effect; crying in the locker room, holding the cross necklace that provides no comfort, let alone the belief in a Savior—

"Carrie?" Margaret touched Carrie's shoulder, causing her to flinch. She looked up at her mother and blinked hazily, like she had treaded through a bathhouse and the hot water was still weighing down on her. "Carrie, were you even listening?"

"Yes, Momma. Ephesians, right?"

"Yes." Margaret nodded, pleased, but curt. "Seventeen through eighteen. You recite those verses and I'll read the last one."

"Okay, Momma." Carrie knotted her hands together, probing through the clutters of Biblical verses in her mind. "That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height."

Margaret smiled, and murmured, "And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God. Amen."

"A-amen." Carrie stuttered, pressing her shaking hands against her mouth. When Margaret uncoiled from her prayer, Carrie didn't reciprocate; she remained locked and shivering. Margaret, acknowledging this, plodded towards her and wrapped her into a tight hug.

"Carrie," Margaret whispered, kissing her daughter's forehead, "what's wrong, sweetie?"

"N-nothing, Momma." Carrie said, trying to relax her tense muscles. "I'm just nervous about school, I guess."

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time," Margaret spoke, searching for an enigmatic quality that she knew wasn't there. "Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you."

Carrie was partially rankled by her mother's monotonous quotes, but the authenticity of her words provided enough comfort. Carrie rested her head against her mother's neck as Margaret stroked her daughter's hair. The concordance with the misfits and the once-fits was solidified in Sixth Grade, but Carrie was only happy to know that she would soon be rid of Ewen High and everything else would be rendered null and void.

Carrie withdrew from Margaret's arms, kissed her cheek, and made her way upstairs. She went to her bedroom and locked the door, trying to discard the pious melodies that hummed from downstairs. One more year, she told herself, and she left it at that.

A/N: Before anyone panics over the story being deleted and angrily PMs me about it, just know that I'm reposting it on my new account. I don't know why, but I just kind of lost interest in my last account because it's cluttered with a bunch of stuff that, to be honest, isn't my best work. It kind of felt like because of personal issues, I just ended up putting filler on there rather than really flexing my creative spirit. So, I'm starting fresh on this account!

And, of course, I wasn't going to possibly leave out arguably my most popular fic to date. Many people have messaged me about how much they love this story, and I have quite a few fans (boys? girls? idk what my target demographic is) that have asked me about whether or not this fic will ever be done. I'm sorry if I seemed irritated whenever that happened because I don't want to sound ungrateful. I'm honestly really surprised this fic has a following at all, and I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves this concept. I just hate feeling like I let people down because life gets in the way and I have to focus on that first rather than update a story I'm writing for fun.

So, the prologue is up, and I'll quickly post the first three chapters. I gotta message the followers of this story first to let them know where they can find it. I'll post these soon, and the fourth chapter will be posted some time in May.

peace xx