Chapter Two: Carrie - "Junior".
Carrie scrubbed her hands in the bathroom sink, anxious to remove every last drop of the boy's blood from her flesh. She had left him in the living room, pressing a cold, damp towel to his injured right arm. She'd already attempted a phonecall to the doctor, to no avail. His surgery was open on Sundays, but opened at different hours to weekdays. The nearest hospital was over an hour's drive away, so the doctor would be a more secure bet by far, if she could manage to reach him soon.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as she approached the boy curled up on the living room sofa, anxiously clutching his arm with the damp towel. No more blood seemed to seep into it now, which Carrie assumed could only be a positive sign.
"Sick," he replied listlessly.
Carrie scampered to the kitchen and retrieved the large yellow Tubberware bowl from the cupboard. She returned and placed it on the floor, parallel to the boy's mouth.
"I can't remember a... a thing," he murmured, his voice strained as though he were constricting sobs.
"It's alright," said Carrie, dropping to her hunches next to the sofa. What are you saying? It's "alright"? How can you say that? She decided to start by asking him something easy. "Can you maybe try to remember what your name is?"
He blinked rapidly, his eyes as blank and distant as before. "I think... I'm called Junior. Obviously it's probably not my actual name, but..."
Carrie nodded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "That's good. Let's go with that. I'm Carrie."
He squinted at her with his cold blue eyes. "Carrie. Are you sure we've never met?"
"Certain," said Carrie. "I've tried the doctor once already, and there was no answer. I'm so sorry, I - I'm gonna get you some help, I promise."
"Don't worry about it. I feel... I feel safe here."
Chewing on her lip, Carrie wasn't sure she felt very comfortable around this boy. Something about him did seem horrifyingly familiar. She couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was chilled her to her core.
Junior suddenly shot upright on the couch, making a grab for the yellow bowl on the way, and was loudly and violently sick inside it.