A/N: I've written romance for a horror fandom before, when I was eleven, and taken considerable flak for it. So let me just give a disclaimer right now- this is a love story. There will be horror elements by virtue of the source material, but if you're looking for more telekinetic rampages, look elsewhere.

I don't own any of the characters, except the baby. And not really even her, since she's in the movie and book briefly (very briefly, for the book- just long enough to exist and get miscarried). Please note that I am pro-choice and in no way trying to say that Sue's decision in this chapter is what every pregnant teenager should do.

What they never tell you is, when you go into labor, "teen mom" doesn't mean anything. You're just a mom, or about to be. And your body really wants to make that happen as soon as possible. So when we all piled into the car and my dad burned rubber out of the driveway, the only thing that mattered was the pain.

But I glanced at the shed as we pulled out anyway. It was dark; at night it was always dark.

That's why I pulled out my phone, when I was sure they weren't looking and between contractions. Covering the glow with one hand, I quickly tapped out the message.

Going 2 hospital. Prob CMMC. Will u be ok?

When the crack in the shed door showed a tiny point of bluish light, I finally let myself relax. There wouldn't be a reply; there never was. I'd bullied my cousin Louis into giving me his old phone, and mostly for nothing. But it was on, which was a new development of the past two months.

As the Lexus zoomed down the street at speeds beyond any limit in Chamberlain, my own phone lit up on the seat beside me. It vibrated once, then went dark again. I blinked, unsure what to think. My mind wasn't 100% anyway, having been jolted from sleep by the sharp pain and wet sheets at 2:30 AM. But I picked up the little plastic rectangle anyway, and slid my thumb across the lock.

Will u?

The entire message, two words. It might as well have been two thousand.

I'll b fine. Contractions arent even that close yet. Doesnt hurt much. Boring details, maybe, but I'd have said anything to keep her talking. Just like in the first three months of almost total silence, even when we were face-to-face.

No reply. Lights flashed by outside as we reached the on-ramp to the Interstate. Dad sped up even more; it felt, from my distracted point of view, like we were flying.

"Sue?" Mom said from the front seat, twisting around to look at me. "You alright back there?"

I shoved the phone between the seat and the car door. For the past nine months, she'd been downright paranoid about anything that could hurt the baby- including some kind of radiation from smart phones. "Fine. I mean, besides being in labor."

Her mouth tightened a little. The whole teenage pregnancy thing was about as welcome to them as it would have been to most parents. But they were letting me keep the baby, so there was that.

When she turned back around, I pulled the phone back out.

Google says first labor can take a day or more.

I know. Plz eat.

Not hungry. Worried abt u.

I sighed. It was the first week all over again. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. Just lay there on the floor of the shed, taking sips of water every so often. I thought for a while she really would die. When I told her that, she said she wanted to.

I'll be fine. U promised

It started to rain. As the windows beaded up with water and the streetlights turned it into gold, I stared at the droplets and remembered.

"Eat."

"No."

"Come on. Eat. You haven't eaten anything for a week."

The girl on the floor looked up at me, raising her head a few inches off the concrete. "I don't want to eat."

"You have to," I said, and pushed the plate of food towards her. "Or you'll die."

She curled into a tighter ball. "I should be dead."

"And I shouldn't be pregnant." The words just slipped out. It was the wrong time to discuss this, but after seeing that little plus sign on the plastic stick, there was almost nothing else on my mind. And to my surprise, she actually looked up again. Even in the dim light from the grimy shed windows, the creature on the floor didn't look much like a teenage girl. Bony limbs, matted hair, haunted and dull eyes- she honestly reminded me of a zombie. Ironic, considering the circumstances.

"Do you believe me now?" she croaked. I passed her the water bottle that sat on a pile of plywood next to me.

"Can't really help it, since you were telling the truth," I said, with a calm that I didn't feel. "Obviously I can't keep the baby."

She lowered the plastic bottle, staring at me. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I asked incredulously. "Carrie-"

She flinched. Just like every time I said her name. For some reason, that contraction of her skinny shoulders made something snap inside me.

"Oh, for god's sake. That's your name; stop being a drama queen. I can't keep the baby because I'm just barely eighteen years old and my parents would make me give it up for adoption anyway. Besides, I'm supposed to be the good girl. I was valedictorian!"

"Does that even mean anything, in a graduating class of fifty-two?"

I stopped. Looked down at her. It didn't take a doctor to see she wouldn't last another month. Beyond just the skeletal thinness, there was no light in her eyes. No spark of life touched her face. She just gazed off into space, not looking at me, not looking at anything. She was a corpse with vital signs.

And I didn't want her to die.

It was a feeling like being cheated. God or the universe or whatever thought they could just send this strange person into my life like a comet and then take her away again? I didn't know her. Nobody knew her. We knew the outcast, and later the avenging, death-bringing goddess of blood. But we didn't know Carrie White. I'd be damned if I let her become the martyr without ever being the girl.

So it didn't surprise me when the words slipped out of my mouth. "If you decide to live, I'll keep her."

"Huh?" When she blinked up at me, it was such a familiar moment that I almost laughed. Her confusion was nothing new, in a terrible way.

"If you eat, clean yourself up, stop trying to waste away to nothing…I'll keep my baby," I said. "Do we have a deal?"

If one more person told me to breathe, I was going to get up out of this hospital chair and kill them.

If 1 more prson tells me 2 breath I m going 2 kill them.

It had been the better part of a day since Dad frantically explained to the admitting nurse at the Central Maine Medical Center our situation. She'd given me a disapproving look, and I'd calmly told her to go to hell. It felt better than I'd ever admit; labor was a convenient excuse for rudeness.

For the better part of a day, I'd been texting Carrie between contractions. By some miracle, she kept responding.

Sure enough, the phone vibrated about a minute later.

Want some help?

Mass murder jokes. This girl was the reason my baby was even still alive. "Good luck, kid," I whispered to my heaving abdomen. "You'll need it. Your other mommy's finally gone nuts."

Dont say things like that around our bby

"Sue, honey?" Mom looked at the phone over my shoulder. I couldn't pull it away fast enough, and she saw the most recent text. Her brows knitted together in concern. "Who are you texting?"

"Um…" Fortunately- for some definition of "fortunately" –another contraction hit at that moment. As did a brief flash of clarity.

This really was her fault. I made that stupid promise and now there was all this pain and sweat and blood. Carrie didn't get me pregnant, but she might as well have. I could have been done with all this months ago if not for her. I got so wrapped up in thought that I didn't realize my fingers were moving on the phone screen.

-all your fault, the swollen ankles and everyone staring at me and all this now do you have any fucking idea how much it HURTS

They weren't very far apart now, but there was a brief moment of relaxation. Her response showed up right on time.

No. But its gonna b ok

The whole "other mommy" thing started as a joke. The first joke she'd made…well, ever, to me. I'd been so happy the first time she said it. My baby gave her something to live for, and any reason was good enough for me. And she really was responsible for its birth, so maybe the analogy worked.

When I read that text, though, it didn't feel like a joke. Corny as it was, somehow I felt like she was there with me, holding my hand instead of Mom, saying nothing but nothing that was stronger than the doctor's constant stream of chatter.

"I can see the top of the head!"

Everything was starting to blur together. It hurt, but the need to push blotted out everything else. A moment of fire, and then-

The smell of blood in the air. A cry, small at first, but growing in volume. It was over.

Other things happened, I know. The doctor smiled and said something- congratulations, probably –and Mom started to cry. The phrase "healthy baby girl" registered somewhere in the muddle. The sound of metal against metal over in one corner, where I was dimly aware there was a sink. More cries.

And then, someone put her in my arms. She looked like a red monkey, swaddled in a soft yellow blanket. A little cap covered surprisingly thick brown hair. Tiny hands reached out for me. She was here. My baby.

"Give me my phone."

"What?" Mom said, shocked. "Honey, you just gave birth. Is now really the time to be texting?"

I held the baby tighter, making sure she was secure in my grip. "Yes. Give it here."

Some muttering. Someone said I must be texting Tommy's now-defunct number, and a pang of guilt shot through me. He should be here to see this. She was his daughter, too. But one way or another, the square of plastic was placed in my hand.

"Smile, baby," I whispered, angling the little bundle so that she was visible in the camera's viewfinder. Once the picture was taken, I added a brief message before hitting Send.

She's perfect.

See? Came the response, u just have 2 have faith sometimes.

Her words stuck in my mind. It was true. Faith had made this child happen- faith that Tommy would take care of me if I got pregnant; faith that everything would be alright when he couldn't. Faith that Carrie would spare me, and then that she would spare herself. Faith that she was worth saving in the first place. And her faith that I would keep my end of the deal. Lowering the phone, I looked over at the tiny, helpless person I was now responsible for.

"Welcome to the world, Faith."

A/N: I went there. I went to fluff-land, and I have no regrets. Review if you feel so inclined.