Buried Memories (Slendy FanFic)

Chapter 3 - Prt. 1

"Wait here," she says, smiling before pulling back the dividing curtains to my bed of the hospital's small ER. I watch as the nurse weaves her way through the mess of the hospital. A couple people have minor injuries from the fire, but, luckily, nothing severe. The building is what took the hit, along with it the thousands of books and those records I so desperately need. The fire had finally dulled down late this morning around 10 am and has sent the town into a sort of panic. The fire department is still trying to work out the mess, but now that they've established no-one was in the building at the time, it should go faster. Should. No-one's even begun to question how it happened in the first place. It's like they've never seen a fire in their lives. Maybe it's just me, but this whole area is backwards in the sense that everyone conforms. No-one stands up. No-one stands out. No-one asks why. That's what I hate the most about this place: no-one questions anything. It's really starting to get to me. Soon enough Franklin's police department will come up with some excuse; they'll blame it on "gangs" and "drugs" because they won't know what else to do. Franklin and Avery are quiet little towns, places where nothing goes wrong. Ever. I shake my head at the thought. They have no idea. My eyes wander to a stark white cast encasing my ankle and I sigh. I feel like I'm the only one who is asking questions. I wish I had someone to talk to about this, someone I can relate to. But, I don't.

I look up from the cast as the thought of the woods and the blood-red images start to make their way back into my mind. I have the luck of sharing one of the cold, dimly lit ER rooms with a few other kids around my age. The beds are lined up horizontally across the room, most having the curtains drawn back except for a couple. Nothing appears to be wrong with any of the others; a few minor burns, maybe. They're not sporting casts, and they don't have cuts lining their bodies. I do. I can still feel the cold air and the pain in my ankle is still noticeable even with all the medication being shoved down my throat. I wonder how they'd deal with my situation, how they'd deal with "him". I look to the left of me as a tall, beach blond two beds down starts going off again about the fire and "what's going on?!". She looks in an utter state of panic, apparently her house had backed up to the library and she'd gotten a good shot of the smoke, but you wouldn't be able to tell if it wasn't for her blood-shot eyes. I know I shouldn't get annoyed about it. I would be scared too... Well, I am... But it's different. I just can't stop thinking about how blinded everyone is.

The blond girl starts ranting at a boy, who looks a year or two younger, who she'd been trying to engage in a useless conversation earlier about the upcoming football game against Garnieve High, our rival school from a couple towns over. I don't recognize either of them, though they appear to know each other. Maybe they're related. I can't tell. I turn my attention away from her as she goes off again to look out the large, glass window of the room. My bed is facing that direction, so I have no problem losing myself in the crowd outside.

A group of families is lined up at the main desk, all looking for answers, no doubt. Nurses are zooming in and out of doors and down halls, then up again, and there are a few police men who seem to be consumed in the crowd. Everyone looks stressed and absolutely no-one looks calm. The scene is a good ways off, but I can clearly see it through the glass. I just wish I could hear what they're saying. I feel sorry for them and I wish I could tell them why they're upset, why this has happened. But, I can't. This is my battle, not theirs. Still, I feel like they should know something, anything.

I start to look away from all of it, feeling nauseated, when someone catches my eye. A boy. He looks about my age from what I can tell, and tall, with short, dirty blond hair that appears "messed up" in the right way, and pale blue eyes. He's pushing his way through the crowd, coming towards our little room. I watch him intently, once I know for sure that he's heading this way. At first I think he might be coming to greet the tall blond, maybe the boy, or someone else in the room. But, no. As he comes closer, I realize he's looking at me. Am I seeing this right? I frown, wondering who he is, as he begins to wave. I look to my left quickly at the blond, but she's deep in conversation with the boy again. I glance back through the glass and return the gesture. He smiles widely, but I don't have time to decide anymore before he disappears out of my sight. My spirits fall as he disappears and I think I definitely have made a mistake. There's no way he was coming to see me when I don't even know who he is. But then... who was he waving at?