While We Burned

OVERDALE ~born & returned~

The banging and clanking and screaming would not stop. You could hear it from most floors, given that there were only 4. 

It was 257. She was locked in a room. No one knew where she came from. The man in the hazmat suit, Jerry Prusick, said she just came from the fire. Like she was part of the fire. The girl had already been questioned, and nothing about her was suspicious. She said she got lost in the woods, she saw the man engulfed and flames and got scared. She found the closest thing to her, a screwdriver, and jabbed it into her. Simply, self-defense, due to the poor girl being spooked. After Jerry came to, he went crazy and started freaking out, saying that 257 was a murderous psycho, just because she jabbed him with a screwdriver. 

Jerry got fired. 

We know for a fact that she is not a murderous psycho, but we know that she did not simply get lost. Every morning, drones fly around the whole forest and record any motion or activity. After multiple people reviewing the tapes from this morning multiple times, nothing was found. So she was not lost. It's like she was created. The flames created her. And here she was, human or not. They couldn't just kill her. No. They would not kill her. Because she wouldn't let them. 

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As soon as Wyatt and his parents walked into the police station lobby, people were already shocked. The boy who threw himself out to sea. The boy who was dead. As the witness said, he never stopped running. The only stopped when he was gone. When he got carried away. When he got pulled under. When he drowned. But walking through the lobby. It was as if nothing ever happened to him. He looked fine, even good. His skin was normal color, his lips weren't purple, and he was not rotting like he should have been. 

His parents, George and Carol were shedding tears by the second, calling people over for help. Wyatt was there telling his parents it was fine. He was fine. He felt normal. He was normal. He did not want to be known as "the returned boy" or "the boy who came back to life". He just wanted to be known as Wyatt. But he knew that wouldn't happen. People in the lobby were crowding around Wyatt and his parents, questions bubbling around him. He felt as if he were drowning in questions. 

Wyatt looked up at his mom, "Mom, I don't like this. Tell them to stop." Wyatt's dad must have heard him.

"HEY! LEAVE MY SON ALONE" His echo was blocked by all of the noise, but the crowd got his message and retreated back to the seats they were waiting in. 

"We need a doctor!" Wyatt's mom called for what Wyatt thought was the thousandth time. 

"Mom, I don't need a doctor." Wyatt looked up. But it was too late, doctors were already crowding around, two of them had a gurney. Wyatt wasn't dead, he wasn't unconscious, he wasn't sick, he wasn't in a coma. But the doctors still lifted him up, placed him on the gurney and strapped him down. 

They wheeled him right into the emergency room. And the ten-or-some doctors started drowning him and his parents with questions again. Where did he come from? Is he a ghost? Is he dead? What happened? Didn't he kill himself? We need to know? Put the IV in! 

There were so many questions that they overwhelmed Wyatt until he passed out on the cold, metal gurney.