"Why did you kill the kitten, Grey?" Georgette was speaking to him again. Grey was growing more and more aggrivated by her perpetual questions. Did he really need to go into it? What he saw in Marie's mind?

He rubbed between his eyes. They were dry from staying awake. He couldn't sleep. Not at all. Marie's Voice was mewing in his head. One painful squeak, over and over. It was worse than the humans screams...worse than the skitzophrenics further into the psyche ward shouting late at night. Worse than it all. He would begin to drift off, and then Marie's Voice would shriek again and he'd jolt awake. They hadn't found her until the morning, neck snapped with her body curled up in her box, a ripped corner of blanket over her. Grey couldn't stand to let her lie in death like an inatimate object. He had to let her go as if she was sleeping. Some final rest. And I said I'd never kill again...Damn it...

"Answer me, Grey, or I'll have to prescribe a more drastic treatment."

Wonderful. Threats. "She was in pain."

Georgette wrote something down on her pad. Grey had the overwhelming urge to grab it and throw it out the window but he didn't. He was begining to learn to control those spontanious urges. She was only writing things there for her own amusement. Nothing she wrote would change anything. He was already in the worst place he could be. He was already under their thumb. Calm down, and don't panic so much...

Nervous in the silence for the first time in years, Grey reached a hand to his left arm and scratched at the strange scar there. A circular scar, a brand mark. His creators had given it to him. He couldn't see it, and it was usually only glimpsed at by others...but he knew what it was. A dragon, wings and tail encapsalated within a ring. Beneith it was his number, which was begining to fade. He had never known it anyway. Trying to keep from keening in his throat from the sounds of Marie's Screams, he scratched at the scar.

Georgette barely looked up at him, only continued writing. "Your nails have been cut, Grey, they are too short to hurt yourself with, I'm sorry to tell you."

Grey's head snapped up, his lips pulled tight in a grimice. He slitted his eyes at the woman and let his hand fall. His voice was dangerously low and quiet. "That wasn't what I was doing."

Placing her notepad on the floor next to her, Georgette stared at the young boy sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. In the white hospital gown, he looked unnaturally thin, his pale skin making him all but fade into the light colours of the room. "Really," Her tone was that of one taken with a child who was obviously lying.

Grey's hands moved silently to the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the fabric, muscles tightening. His breathing evened out but his anger did not fade. It grew, swirling upwards like a current in murky water, and with each breath, Marie's Screams grew more accute. His head was so cluttered...He couldn't listen to this woman anymore. "You don't know me."

"Considering that you are my patient, it's my job to know you," Georgette seemed confident in herself. Grey's fingers tightened on the bed, knuckles going white. "My evaluations have been thorough, you live up to my expectations for you. The only thing that frustrates me is that you aren't responding to anything."

"Maybe," Grey snarled now, "Because nothing can help me."

"Don't be rediculous, thanks to modern science and psychology, there's a cure for everything." She smiled sweetly. "Even you."

Grey's arms were shaking now. With a sharp exhale, he fell partially forward, catching himself. He had stopped breathing for a moment there, he realized. The mewing of Marie in the back of his mind still clawed at him. Clenching his teeth, he spoke, half curled and looking down. "You think there's a cure for me," Slowly, he looked up, glaring with eyes that made Georgette shudder visably in her chair. "There is no cure for what I am. You want to know why I killed the cat?"

Nodding, Georgette could find no explanation for the fear creeping through her. The boy she was speaking too seemed to radiate anger, pain and frustration. She found herself unable to speak, eyes transfixed as if she was a mouse in a snake's glare.

"Fine. She was sick and dying, thanks to something my creators did to her. If I had let her live, she might have carried the virus. It might have mutated. Might have killed people. She was in pain, and they would have been too." He stood on the bed, glaring down at her. Stupified in her seat, Georgette could do nothing but shake. "I'm not your patient, I'm nobody's child, I'm nothing!" He shouted franticly, arms whipping back to grip the sides of his head. "I am a DEMON, damnit! Not a Human! I'm not Human!"

"Grey," The psychiatrist's voice was an unsure, pleeding whisper. "It was only a cat...the Vet had said it was healthy, she-"

"She wasn't healthy! You don't know anything! You weren't inside her head- she wasn't in yours! Marie wanted to die!" Leaping forward lightning quick, he grabbed the clipboard from the floor. Casting Georgette one swift glance, he ripped the metal clip off with his bare hands, the rough edges ripping into his fingers as the blood started to flow with its usual delay over his hand. "And so do I."

Before Georgette could do anything to stop him, Grey dragged the metal in an arch around his wrists, creating a U shaped circle of blood. Furiously digging the metal in twice again, he forced the shape into a sort of bloody grin, embedded on his wrist. Hands shaking, he dropped the broken clip and sank to his knees on the floor, staring at what he'd done with wide eyes. An out of place smile crept onto his face and grew, until Grey found himself laughing. Georgette stepped back, stumbling away with her hand against her mouth until her back touched the door. Faintly now, tears quietly flowing down his face as he laughed, Grey lay down quietly to die.

Flurry of investigation...
Can he hear me, Momma? Can he hear me?
If I could get another chance, I'd put it in a Ziploc bag-
Damnit, I hope we finish this up soon.
I'm not sure, sweetheart.
I hope he's okay.
Sleeping with my cloths ooooooon....
Damn, where did he learn to drive?
I'm hungry...Wonder if the deli's open yet.
Jesus, how many times has this kid had his wrists patched up?
Fuck, I'm late for the meeting already?
Dude...I could get with her...
MYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!!
WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!!

With a gasp, Grey bolted upright and let out a yelp. The doctors standing around him stepped back, all their images jumping at him. He wasn't in his hospital room, he was back in the emergency ward. One doctor was still holding a needle in his hand, the glimmering metal thread leading around to Grey's wrist. Snarling, Grey turned to the doctor and yanked his wrist away. The stitches tightened in his skin and the needle flew out of the startled man's hands, dangling like a spider a thread of its web from Grey's wrist.

"Grey!" The daughter was suddenly at his side, her arms around his middle. Grey jumped in surprise and stared down at her, the little girl who was only a glowing red shape in his vision. Streaks of orange fading to blue covered her face and the faint smell of salt filled the air when she looked up at him. The little girl was crying. He blinked in surprise. Crying...over what?

"We thought you were going to die! Grey please stop doing this!"

Where's a cop when you need one?
He ripped it right out of my hand...
Grey, Grey...Why do you keep hurting yourself?
I don't want a shot, mom! I'm fine!
When will this damn dog finish up?
All that's left is to scan this bastard...
Ohhh...I want one...

Grey screamed and doubled forward, grabbing at the hair on the sides of his head. Kicking on the thinly padded operating table, the paper crackled and wrinkled. Swiftly, the little girl was pulled away. Still screaming, Grey kicked with his feet until he slid up onto the headrest of the bed, the metal rim around the back preventing him from going any farther. Shaking his head and breathing hard, he wedged himself into the corner of the hospital bed. The needle, still hanging by its thread on his wrist, became caught between his thigh and leg when he curled up and burrowed into the soft skin under Grey's knee. He didn't feel it though. He didn't feel any of it. "STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The doctors milled and shouted, several racing from the room on orders. "Get a standard dose of valium, and move, damn you! We need to calm this kid down!"

"NO!" Shouting between heaving breathes, Grey shook his head furiously and tried to push further into the corner. "I don't need any more seditives! No more needles!"

A soft spoken doctor ventured close and carefully placed a hand on Grey's shoulder, barely brushing the papery fabric of his hospital gown. Screeching at the contact, Grey slammed against the wall, but couldn't go any further. Panting with fear, he shivered as tears began to streak down his face. His heart was beating so quickly Grey could feel his chest moving against and away from the fabric of the hospital garment. The doctor replaced his hand again, and Grey only gave a little moan and closed his eyes tightly. He could see himself curled up in the doctor's vision, blood streaking down his leg and onto the paper covering of the sheet. The silver of the stitches glinted on his wrists, melding with the silver and black of his hair. "Son, if you'll have to calm down if that's what you want," The doctor said softly and evenly.

Taking a few fast, panicking breaths, Grey forced himself to speak. "Okay...okay...just no more drugs. No more."

Turning his head, the doctor regarded the mother, who had the little girl tucked against her legs, arms wrapped protectively around her. "Does this boy have a history of drug abuse?"

The mother shook her head and opened her mouth to say something, but Grey's shaking eerie laughter cut her off. Between gasps, he choked out some form of laughter, muffled by the his legs which were tucked up near his face. "You stupid people...It's not me who put them in me, it was you...If I have a fucking history, it's because you gave me one..."

Face turned against her mother's side, the young girl spoke softly, her tone worried. "It's going to be okay, Grey."

Barking a quick laugh, Grey wrapped his shaking arms around his knees and tried to slow his breathing. The best he got was a shaking sigh. "It's never been okay, it's never going to be okay..."

There was a prolonged silence, nobody moved and nobody spoke. One of the doctors returned and stood in the doorframe, a syringe in his hands. The doctor with his hand on Grey's shoulder held up two fingers to signal the man to wait. Grey tried not to think of other things, tried to block out the thousands of Voices from all around. So many, so many...After what seemed like forever, the doctor with his hand on Grey's shoulder spoke. "Listen son, we need to finish up our job on your wrist here. Now we can do that without the valium, but if you flail around or curl up like you're doing now-"

Grey started nodding franticly, his blunt fingernails gripping his bare knees desperately. "I'll be good, I'll be good, just no more needles, no more seditives... no more..." His voice faded into a whisper and then a keening whine as tears started to flow from his eyes again. He hated this, nobody else had to deal with this...Why did he? It wasn't fair, and nobody would shut up!

The doctor gently lifted Grey's arms away from his legs, which Grey slowly stretched out against the hospital bed. With gentle urging, he was slid back into his original postion and the needle pried out of his leg. With a few more moments of careful work, they were finished. The doctor who had spoken to Grey put a hand on his head and brushed his strange coloured hair back affectionately. "There you go...Wasn't so bad."

Barely auidable, Grey sighed words that weren't meant for a reply. "I'm getting so tired of this..."

"Hey, it's going to be okay. What happened to you that you're so scared of needles anyway?"

Grey shook his head slowly, the lie choking in the back of his throat. "I don't know, I don't know..."

The doctor made a low sound of affection, somewhat like a cat meowing and scratched Grey's head. The scratching felt good, and Grey looked up and ran a bare arm across his face to clear the tears from his eyes. The doctor was tall, and warm, but that was all he could tell from his own eyes. The man smelled faintly of grass and mud...Probobly on his shoes. Grey blinked as the man spoke again. "Well, it's all over now. You were very brave." Turning around to the mother and little girl, the doctor began to speak in a much more curt tone as he dropped his hand from Grey's head. "How many times has he been brought in for suicide attempts in the past?"

Grey didn't look, but he could feel the images of all his previous attempts flashing through his mind. Wrists cut, posioning with bathroom chemicles, overdoses of painkillers, filling the garage with car exhaust, holding his head underwater in the bathtub.... "I've lost count. It's almost a weekly occurance."

"Is he getting treatment?"

"Yes, we have a psychiatrist for him. She reccomended he stay in the psychiatric ward of the hospital, but-"

"Obviously it wasn't an improvement," The doctor's tone softened. "Was it this frequent when he wasn't seeing a psychiatrist?"

No, Grey thought to himself. It was a lot less frequent..I went fewer places, I didn't have to hear them so much...It was quiet...

"No," The mother admitted. "But-"

"I think your best option is to cancel his appointments then, and bring him home. Can you do that?"

"I'll have to talk with my husband, but yes, of course...He is my son-"

Growling under his breath, Grey cast a glance at her glowing red shape. I'm not your son, I'm nobody's son.

The hand returned to Grey's head and he leaned back to allow the doctor's fingers to explore his scalp. Grey smiled, it felt good. So few things felt good. "Is that all right with you, son?"

Grey nodded and shut his eyes against the doctor's scratching. A soft purr began to rumble its way out from inside him. The little girl moved to his side and began to pet his stitched arm softly. "Grey, you purr!"

The doctor seemed slightly shocked, but didn't let it deter him. If something calmed a frantic patient down, it was better that he continue. "Alright then. I'll bring him up to the psyche ward to collect his things, and then we'll meet you in the lobby. Notify his psychiatrist from home. This should help more than anything she's done."

Smiling faintly, Grey lay down in the hospital bed as the girl's touch left his arm and the mother left with her. The doctor stopped scratching and patted him on the head once, smiling down. For a moment, Grey felt almost normal...but in the back of his mind, Marie mewed again....

No, he'd never be normal. It would never be okay. But at least it was going to be somewhat quiet again...