𝐰𝐨𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 // 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐱𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

prompt: wednesday writes tyler a letter (pt. 2).

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third person pov

"She's dead."

...What?

Tyler froze.

How?...

"What do you mean, 'she's dead?'"

He stood up from the chair and placed his hands firmly on the table, supporting himself.

"I mean, she's dead. We found her at the crypt last night, dead as can be. She was cold to the touch; must've been there for a while," his dad explained. He flipped open the file that he threw onto the table, revealing some evidence pictures and typed out information.

Tyler scanned over the papers, taking it all in.

Wednesday? Dead? The first person to believe in me... love me... dead?

"Do you know who did this to her?" he asked, referring to the particularly detailed photo, him shifting uncomfortably at the gory image. She was nearly unrecognizable.

"We have a few suspects," the sheriff responded, "but we can't too sure just yet. We need more evidence."

The two stood in silence for a moment.

"Take me to the morgue," Tyler demanded. "I need to see her."

His dad turned to look at him, his eyebrow raised. He stood back, crossing his arms.

"Are you sure that's the best idea? You're not in your right frame of mind."

Ever since that night he had been captured, Tyler had been under strict rules. His father convinced the police force to keep him under his costody until further notice to keep a personal eye on him. So far, he had been doing just fine, but no one knew when the hyde would reveal itself once again or what it would do when it did.

"Yes," Tyler snapped, impatient. He was sick of people assuming the worst of him. Sure, they had the right to do so after everything that had happened, but that didn't mean he liked it.

Mr. Galpin raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, I'll take you. But be on your best behavior."

As if he were a prisoner, Tyler was escorted to the morgue. A few security guards were outside of the doors, and the sheriff stood near the exit, ready if anything were to happen.

It was all ridiculous, Tyler thought, that they all believed he was going to explode and destroy everything as if he hadn't been perfectly behaved the past month or so.

Even so, Tyler looked around the eerily cold room, searching for what he was looking for. He opened a door, sliding a dead body out and back in, before his dad told him which rectangle the girl was being kept in. Shakily, Tyler rolled out the victim, gasping when he saw her face.

Lo and behold, there was Wednesday, dead, laid on the metal table.

"No," he whispered, so quiet that he himself had almost not heard it.

Unblinking, he looked her over, the injuries littering her body perfectly matching those on the photo. His eyes glazed over in tears, unbelieving that the girl he loved had allowed this to happen to herself.

And then, something caught his eye.

Tyler leaned forward, close to her face, staring at something so intensely that one might think he were trying to set it on fire with his mind. And then he gasped and stood straight, stumbling a few steps away.