Smoke filled the air as the orange-red flames continued to spread around the building. There were screams of panic, and harsh noises of door banging, along with desperate pleads to get out of the building. For the most part, the fire had hushed the people over, as if it was disallowing them to talk, and as it continued raging inside the small apartment, one by one, the shouts of help became more frequent, and even more desperate to get out.

In the center of it all, was a boy wearing a green-hoodie, peach-skinned, gold eyes, grey hair, and an ear wrapped in bandages.

The watched as the building around him burn down, emotionless gold eyes flickering from his left and his right, smile nowhere to be seen. If anyone were to see this, they would think the boy was some kind of God - because while the flames were quickly spreading through the apartment, they never touched him, and he was standing dead center of it all, just watching.

If he was God, he was some sort of sick God.

Because he wasn't helping, he wasn't calling for help, he wasn't doing anything but watching the flames, hearing the cries for help, and about time anyone knew what was going on, it was too late. The boy continued to stand there, watching the flames, before looking up at the ceiling when a particular cry got his attention. The cry became more desperate, shouting out the words "Why can't I get out?!" with a tinge of panic, and he could hear the neighbor inside the room trying their hardest to open the door, or window, and they still would not budge.

"No please! Let me out! Let me out!" The neighbor cried softly, and if the boy listened very carefully, he could hear the sobs coming from the ill-stricken neighbor.

At last, the boy smiled.

"How do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty, your honor."

Judge Carline frowned at the answer, before looking glancing over at the boy next to her. Ever since that day when he's been found and charged with murder, the boy's demeanor had changed. She half-expected the boy to jump out of his seat, claiming he didn't do anything, but he didn't. Instead, he sat in his silently, staring at the crowd for his case, with gold eyes silently begging for help, though, by the looks of it, no one was getting the message.

It was saddening that those who need help are refused, yet those who knew what they are, are getting better treatment than those who aren't.

Maybe it was her soft heart talking, and maybe she'll be out of line for doing this, since the verdict has been made, but Judge Carline could not do this. She couldn't send a poor, innocent soul to jail when clearly, he needs more help than he realized.

"Overruled."

"Y-your honor?!"

"Send the defendant to Foggy Bottom's Mental Hospital Intuition. I want him to be looked at, and analyzed, watched over, and if there's something wrong with him, Mayor Humdinger would know what to do. That's my verdict, case dismissed." She said, slamming the gavel down, and then standing up. That's when the lawyer came to her.

"Your honor, you can't be serious!"

"Do not question my stance, Mr. Peterson. I think my mind's been made."

"But this is a bad idea! What if Mayor Humdinger can't control him? What if he gets out? What if he kills again?"

"And how would sending him to jail any better than sending him in a place where he could get help?" Carline asked, glaring at the lawyer. When he didn't speak, Carline huffed. "That's what I thought. See you in the next case, Mr. Peterson."

"I didn't do it." The boy gasped, staring at his friends with shaky eyes. "You believe me...right?"

Ryder and Katie bit their lips, squeezing each other's hands. Rubble just glared at him with watery eyes, holding Skye as she sobbed on his shoulder. Everest turned away, even when her boyfriend, Bruno, gave her a comforting squeeze. Jake and Carla shared a look before looking back at the boy, while Mr. Porter hid Alex behind him, looking at the boy in cuffs with fear in his eyes.

"Rocky," Katie started. "You were the only one there. You were the only one who'd survived the fire. There was evidence stacking against you, and cameras never lies."

"I don't even know how I got there," The boy, Rocky, whimpered. "I don't remember the apartment, or the fire. I don't remember anything!"

"That's why Judge Carline is sending you to the mental hospital," Ryder soothed, smiling sadly. "So you can get help."

"Judge Carline thinks I'm crazy!" Rocky groaned. Before long, a person, most likely a prison guard, came around and shoved Rocky inside the bus that would transport him to Foggy Bottom. "I'll write, I promise."

"Don't bother." Rubble snarled, surprising all of them. Feeling hurt, Rocky didn't say anything but climb into the bus, walking over to a quiet seat, and looked out the window where his friends were. Some of them were waving, and Rocky felt sad that he couldn't return it, as his own hands were handcuffed. Suddenly, the bus engine roared to life, startling the boy, but the driver didn't say anything as they drove away. Rocky glanced once more out the window, seeing his friends wave goodbye, but none of them following the bus to prove that they at least believed in Rocky when he said he didn't do it. Feeling tears coming, Rocky quickly closed his eyes and whimpered.

He wasn't crazy, he was innocent.

Or so he thinks.