Heat is a strange thing.
The energy it takes to contain, consume. Like fire pulling from oxygen.
Heat without a source is a stranger thing.
The young girl showed signs of Acute Radiation Syndrome.
She had flash burns on her back and shoulders.
Her skin was red, covered in a rash, translucent in places.
Doctors said she showed signs of being in a nuclear explosion twelve times that of Chernobyl.
They don’t know why she’s alive.
She seems happy enough. Her hair is thick and her eyes bright.
They found her wandering the streets, crying as everything she touched shriveled, burned, or died.
It took the scientists and doctors, probably too long, to understand that the intense heat and radiation were coming from inside of her.
They ran tests – her blood, her bones, her hair, all radiated. Radiated from the beginning.
The public treat her like a monster. The scientists treat her like a freak. The doctors treated her like a mistake of nature.
In reality, she’s just a girl.
Just a girl locked in a lead-lined room.
Just a girl having tests performed on her thirteen hours a day.
Just a girl who wanted to hold a stray cat and had the world crumble around her.
No matter what they say, no matter what they find, no matter what they do:
She’s just a girl, they shouldn’t forget that.