So This is my first story, be nice D: please! Thanks(:

His last shot entered the figures skull ending it's life*.

He stood there in shock. Had he really done it? The gun fell from his trembling hands, bouncing off the floor. It echoed off the walls of the empty room. On the inside, he was screaming at himself, but on the outside he stood there paralyzed. The figure's body laid there, bleeding all over the white floors of the hospital. The boy slowly walked over to it. He fell to his knees and embraced the body. A sob broke from deep inside of his chest.

"This shouldn't be happening! Why the hell is it!" he yelled to no one.

The doctors had told him he wouldn't feel anything ever again. He dragged the limp body to the nearest corner and sat there with his knees to his chest. He felt insane again, and he hated it.

Over and over he whispered to himself, "It's not real. Everything is fine. You never cared about her."

The word sociopath popped into his head. "That's what I'm supposed to be. That's the normal thing. It must be the normal thing if the doctors said it," he said to himself.

You're wrong. It's not the normal thing," he heard some one yell out.

"Go away! Leave me alone, I'm tired of all this crap!" he yelled back.

The voices had come back. They were yelling at him now, over and over,

"You killed her. What the hell were you thinking, you sick bastard! She's dead because of you." Next to him lay the body of the only person he had cared for, and he had ended her life. "I'm sorry, Kagome," he whispered before his head hit the floor of the asylum and he grew unconscious.

* * *

He dreamed of hell, but he didn't really care. It didn't scare him anymore. He dreamed that he was in the fiery depth of hell, bound to the flames by chains of steel. The smell of burning flesh and cries of anguish surrounded him. He still didn't care though. They could scream all they wanted; he made sure nothing would hurt him anymore. Just as that thought came into his head, in front of him began to play the scene that would haunt his memories forever. The only thing that would break down his walls. It was the moment that he had shot Kagome, the moment of her death. He saw himself pull the trigger, he heard her scream, and that was when he couldn't take it. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled to free himself from the chains. Her final words began to echo around him: "It's over," was all she had said. Two words, and it demolished his already shattered heart.

* * *

He woke up inside of the room he knew all too well. Someone had found him, and brought him back to his old dorm in the insane asylum. Everything was so white, and clean. He hated it. Seeing as there was nothing he could do, he sat on his bed and waited. About ten minutes later, three of the doctors came in.

"How are you doing, Inuyasha?" asked the first doctor in a small, gentle voice. He did nothing but glare at this man with hatred. He could kill them all and not feel a thing. They had lied to him: they told him he would be fine. The first doctor looked at the other two, and noted that they should leave. As the door closed behind them, Inuyasha stood up fiercely and began to punch and kick at the walls. The doctor only sat there, waiting for his tantrum to go down. As he began to calm down, he took a seat on his bed, and waited for the doctor to speak.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing to come out of the doctor's mouth.

"Oh shut the hell up!" Inuyasha said before the doctors could continue. "I don't want to hear any of your crap. You lied to me, you made me more insane than I was. I'm done with it all. " he said in a monotone voice.

The doctor replied, "I know. I have nothing to say, Inuyasha. Is there anything you need?" "Markers, Paper, Pens, and my Ipod," he replied in the same monotone way. The doctor nodded and left the room. As soon as he received what he wanted, he went straight to work. He began to write out his story on paper for hours and hours. For days he went on like this, only stopping to eat and sleep. He didn't talk to anyone. As he came to a stop, he realized that no one would ever read his story. Not a soul on earth would read about who Kagome was, or how he heard screaming all the time. No one would ever know that he never cared about anyone, or how his mother had abandoned him. Did it matter though? He was as good as dead anyways. So, he continued writing. As he came to a finish, he realized that he needed more. His story wasn't enough, there was so much more inside of him. Reaching for the box under the bed, he pulled out his anthology of poems. Carefully looking through them all, he found the one he had been searching for.

He was trapped in hell

but no one came.

He tried to yell

and scream in vain.

They left him there

to bleed and cry.

It wasn't quite fair

To let him die.

Had no one heard him?

Had no one care?

Why, God? Why?

Was he in such despair.

This was nothing new

It happened every week.

So he shut out the voices

and fell to his knees.

This was the one he would write on the walls. This would show every one how he felt. So once again, he set off to work. He copied it onto each of the four walls, but it still wasn't enough. He grabbed the stack of safety pins he had hid under his bed, and slashed his hand. They think I'm crazy? I'll show them crazy. He left hand prints of blood all over the walls. Grabbing the markers again, he wrote everything that came to his mind on the walls: Take me away to Paradise, Abandonment, Suicide, Pull the trigger, and Kagome were the most common. Just as he lay on his bed, the nurse walked in and screamed.

* * *

"You do realize we're only going to keep you here longer," the doctor told him as Inuyasha sat on his bed, looking bored to death.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," he replied as he pulled out a gun and shot it at the doctor's forehead. His face was smug with a cocky smile on it. "Sweet dreams, Doc," he said. He was on top of the world, and only two more things needed to happen before he would jump off. He grabbed the razor from his pocket, and carved "Even the birds are chained to the sky" on his his hand and wrist. With one last glance around his masterpiece, he put the gun to his chest, and pulled the trigger.