It was the third time I heard the wailing, mourning, crying, the sadness, the pain, the thing. I was currently doing my boring math homework and reading my new and exciting book when I hear only difference from the last time I heard it is that I am going to find out what it was this time. I loosened my grip on the book, kicked aside my huge math text book, and swiftly ran to the window. The window. I got new curtains a month ago and it still had that 'new' sort of feel to it. Like when you get a new kitten, and the texture of the fur feels so unreal that you think you're dreaming. My window had a slightly damaged screen behind it and in between the double pane windows, it was fogged up from the cool, cloudy weather that we get very often where I live.

I wiped off the window a bit in order to see through the window clearly. My hand felt cold and damp after that and I shoved it into my dark blue sweatshirt pocket.

I looked out my window, having to wipe it every time I breathed because it would make the glass foggy again. I finally saw him. The stripes were vivid and stood out like hornets' stripes. He wasn't what I expected, but then again, what did I expect?

I saw him rub his furry cheek against a tree his whiskers twitching, tail swishing back and forth and back and forth. He sat on his paws and moaned again. I didn't know why, but I felt like I had to go to him.

I swept down the cold metal stairway and slipped on my dirt smothered ughs. I was reaching for the doorknob when I stopped myself, one foot ready to take the next step, the other holding back. I turned around, the ughs plopping up and down since they were too big. I raced into the pantry. I scanned the white, stained shelf and grabbed the cat treats. I don't know why. I knew that I shouldn't feed strays, but for some reason I didn't think it was for the cat.

I skipped the steps right outside my door and quickened my pace when the moaning stopped. The breeze outside went from calm maritime, tropical, to fierce maritime, polar, in such a short period of time. Glad for my sweatshirt, I tugged on the sleeves and put up the hood. My dark hair whipped past my face and I had to squint.

I turned around the corner of the swaying tree and, he was gone. I turned around, circled the yard, and finally, I shook the can of treats one last time. The breeze started to ease, I slumped my shoulders, and walked back into the house.

I pulled off my sweatshirt and put back the cat treats. "Hello Neko." My small tortoiseshell cat who, by some manner, is very stubborn and does not like to be pet without her permission. I named her Neko, because of the fact that Neko, means cat in Japanese.

"Mrow." Of course, her classy reply is always the same.

I turned around suddenly and Neko ran off when there came a heavy thump, thump, thump from the door. I started walking toward the door and out of the corner of my eye I saw Neko watch me curiously.

"So, how was school?" I hopped up onto the wooden counter and leaned against the fridge. My eyes watched an ant grab a crumb and scurry away as if it was a trance. "So?" This time I could tell she was staring at me. I got the kind of feeling that one gets when you think someone is watching you. "Max, answer me."

I rolled my eyes then looked up into the brown ones of my mother's. She isn't my real mother though. I don't know where my real mother is and I'd like it to stay that way. She was a brat anyway. Abortion. That's what she did to me.

"Fine. Just like every other day at that prison." I turned my head suddenly and looked straight ahead of me at the tiled wall. "Just like the lab." I muttered under my breath.

I heard a sigh to my right and my mother continued putting the groceries away. She knew what I was and I knew what I was, and although the only other people that know what I am are the ones from the lab, people at school treat me as if they knew. Especially that Katrina girl.

Katrina was a girl whose deep shallowness masked a deep rooted superficiality. Of course no one wants to be accused of being superficial or shallow, two adjectives that literally indicate a lack of depth. Basically she is derogatory because being shallow implies not only a refusal to explore something deeply but an inability to feel,sympathize, or understand. Which is exactly why I have never, and never will be fond of her. My only wish now, is to show her what I really can do.

My fists clenched and I noticed just in time before my mother turned toward me again.

"You know Max, I just wish we could have a normal life and live peacefully together without your attitude." My mother took off her lab coat and hung it up. Lab coat. No, she isn't one of them. She is just a normal doctor and has helped me whenever my wings were injured.

I jumped off of the counter, slipped on my sneakers, and flew out the door. Taking a few running steps, then jumping off one. I flap my wings and go so high people that look up would just think it was a normal bird. My hair whipped past my face and floated calmly in the darkening blue sky. My feet dangling high above, but I never have been afraid of heights. In fact, I looked down, my wings still flapping and did a couple of turns and flew happily in the sky. Flying backwards now, I remembered how much my mother thought I was talented in flying. A smile was forming on my lips when my back was injected by a sharp object, my wings helplessly flailing, and falling from high above. The last thing I saw, was another dark figure falling, his dark hair covering his face, black wings stretched out, and then I was knocked out when my skull hit against a rock.