Author: Ok. Here's the actually story.

At 4:30 in the morning the police received a call about loud screams coming from a house near the caller. These screams seemed to have frightened the woman, but she had gone over to see if everything was alright, but nobody had answered the door. The police had been getting more calls that neighborhood in the last months, and they were getting tired of it. The police officer, Kathryn Avery, told the woman to remain calm and they would send officers to the home to investigate.

At 5:00 the officers got there and knocked on the front door. Nobody answered, so they kicked it in. The two officers that responded to the call made their way through the house. They began upstairs, each one checking a different room. The first room was empty, probably the guest room. Avery checked the next room but gasped and stumbled back when she saw the gruesome scene. Two people, a man and a woman, most likely husband and wife, lay on the floor, dead. The woman had a stab wound in her chest, leaking blood all over the ground, into her hair, and staining her nightgown. The man also appeared to have been brutally murdered. She backs out of the room slowly and turns to her partner, William Martin, and said, "Martin, I think I got something."

Officer Martin nodded and replied, "Yeah… Me too."

Avery went to see what her partner meant. Her hand shot to her mouth and her eyes went wide when she looked through the door. A teenage boy lay completely still in his bed, his sheets tangled around him and his eyes closed. The boy had a stab wound through his heart and was lying in a pool of his own blood. The sheets were drenched in the stuff and crimson dripped off the fingers that hung over the side of the bed, a puddle forming on the floor. The officers regretted not getting there more quickly.

Avery shook herself and said, "I'm going to call for back up, you see if there's anybody else in the house."

Martin nodded and headed downstairs. The other rooms were clear. No blood, nothing out of place. Avery caught up with him when he got to the living room. Peering through the doorway, he saw a body lying on the couch. Its chest rose and fell softly with each breath. Martin quickly got back and readied his gun, "I think that may be the killer."

Avery got hers out as well, and the two cautiously entered the room, guns aimed at the small figure. Avery arched an eyebrow, creeping closer. She gestured to him to lower his weapon, putting her own down. She looked back at Martin and explained, "It's just a kid."

Martin gets closer to the body and says, "Well, he's alive at least… but god, what happened to him?"

A black sleeping mask covered the teen's eyes, but the rest of his face was clearly visible. His skin was pure white, which was a contrast to the black mid-length hair that hung from his head and the crimson lips. The boy's mouth, Martin noticed, had cuts extending from the corners of his lips up into a permanent smile that was still slightly bleeding. His white hoodie was stained in blood. Martin moved the kid's hair out of the way to get a better look at the cuts, and this caused him to stir. Martin jumped back and Avery shushed him. She kneeled down to look the boy's level and said in a soft tone, "Hey… Are you awake?"

The child propped himself up on his elbow and used his other hand to lift part of the mask up, revealing his left eye. Avery's eyes widened, but she did not gasp. She must keep her composure in front of civilians. The eye that looked back at her was open wide, like he was startled, and rimmed in black. The iris itself was a pale blue color, nearly white. He looked at her and asked, "What happened?"

Sirens wailed outside and blue and red lights could be seen through the window. The backup had arrived. Martin said, "I'm gonna go tell them what's going on and see if we can't get a medic in here."

Avery nodded and turned back to the confused teen and said, "Everything's going to be alright."

A team of ambulances was called and arrived on the scene as the police put up caution tape around the perimeter of the yard. The team of paramedics that was already there was examining the one living person that was left in the house. Avery stood next to him as the boy sat on a stretcher that was next to the ambulance. The nurse shook her head and Avery asked her what was wrong.

She replied by saying, "This poor kid… His eyelids were burnt off."

The kid looked from the paramedic to the police officer, obviously not understanding what was going on.

"Does he remember anything?" Avery inquired.

The nurse shook her head, "No. Not a thing."

"You should get him to the hospital. Treat those wounds."

Avery walked away as they got the boy in the ambulance and sped off to the hospital. She approached a few officers looking over files and papers and asked, "So what do we have?"

One of them handed her a paper and said, "It was a family: Margaret, Peter, and their two sons, Jeffery and Liu. They moved here not too long ago when the father got a promotion. The older of the two boys, Liu, went to juvenile detention for attacking a group of kids, but it was later found out that he was innocent. The kids that made the report were the attackers and went after the younger brother when the family went to their neighbor's birthday party."

Another of the cops chimed in, "Yeah. The little psychos stormed in with guns and knives and attacked the guy. Some of the brats were killed in the fight. The poor kid they attacked they ended up setting on fire and landing him in the hospital."

The first one nodded and added, "That kid's been through a lot. I'm surprised he managed to survive that ordeal, let alone this one. I wonder why the murderer killed the rest of the family but let him live…"

At the hospital Jeff sat in the room they assigned him. It was the same room he was in yesterday. It felt like ages ago. He sat there, staring blankly at the wall. Yes, his body was present, but his mind was someplace else. It was there, trying to remember what happened last night. Everything remained blurred no matter how much he tried to remember. The blurred figures of his family and red everywhere was all he could see.

A woman knocked on the door frame, shaking him from his thoughts. He turned to look at the invader and saw it was the officer from his home, Avery. She took a cautious step into the room and said, "Jeffery?"

"Jeff." He said in response.

She nodded and continued, "Jeff. I'm sure you know by now that your family…"

Her voice trailed off and she took a seat in the chair near his bed. Before continuing she laced her finger and rested her chin on them, "… your family, they're dead, Jeff. That means they're not coming back. You understand that, don't you?"

Jeff nodded, "yeah…"

Avery became sad at the look on his face, but she kept explaining, "You can't go back home anymore… We have to find you a new home… Is that ok?"

Jeff paused for a long time, thinking things over. Finally he nodded. Avery told him child services would take him to a foster home tomorrow and she wished him luck before leaving.

Sure enough, a man came from child services the next day. He wore a suit and tie, typical of professional people that want to look important. He stood outside Jeff's room talking to the doctors for about a half hour and remained outside the door for another few minutes, looking at the marred boy and studying him, before entering. Jeff knew he was there, but wasn't all too interested in him, so he'd continued absently staring at the wall until the social worker entered. Even then Jeff glanced at him for a moment then went back to what he was doing. The social worker, for his part, put on a smile when he came in the room and sat on the chair near the bed. He set his briefcase down on his lap and spoke in a tone that would be perceived as happy, "Hello, Jeffery! It's nice to meet you! I'm Mr. Johnson and I'll be your social worker."

He waited for Jeff to respond and when he didn't Johnson turned to face the wall as well and said, "That wall is lovely."

At this Jeff looked over at the man, only turning his head slightly. Johnson smiled back at him and said, "Hello, Jeffery."

Jeff looked down at his hands and said, his voice barely a whisper, "Jeff."

"What was that?" Johnson asked.

"Most people call me Jeff." He said again, a little more loudly.

The man smiled, "Well, Jeff, I'm Mr. Johnson. I'll be taking you to your new home today!"

"Do we have to go?"

"Of course! I'll be fine, don't worry."

Johnson stood up and walked to the door. He told Jeff, "A nurse will bring your clothes by and we'll be on our way."

Fifteen minutes later Jeff was dressed in the same black pants and white hoodie, now once again cleaned of blood, he had entered the hospital wearing and he was seated in the back of Johnson's car. They were only just pulling out of the parking lot as Jeff watched the strange case worker punch in coordinates on the car's GPS navigation. It said the place they were headed was two towns over. Most of the car ride passed in silence, with Jeff staring out the window at passing scenery. He watched the rows of houses and businesses morph into countryside and fields then into looming skyscrapers. At one point Johnson asked if Jeff was hungry and he said yes, so they stopped at a Casey's and picked up a few things to eat before heading out again. Johnson was surprised at how quiet Jeff was and how shy he seemed.

They finally arrived at a large house on the edge of a small town and pulled into the driveway. The GPS indicated that they had reached their destination. Johnson looked back at Jeff and said, "It's ok. They're a really nice couple that has been taking foster kids for years. I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Jeff looked at Johnson, not completely sure if he believed him or not, but slipped out of the car when the man did and followed him to the front door. As they stood there waiting for the couple to answer Jeff caught his reflection in the glass. He stared at it sadly wondering what they would think. 'What happened to me?' he asked himself, but no answer was presented by his mind. At that moment he got a feeling, one that was all too familiar. It was the same way he felt when he beat up Randy and his goons, but this time he felt like lashing out at himself. Jeff shook his head, trying not to think about it.

After what seemed like ages to Jeff, but in actuality was only a few minutes, a woman answered the door. She smiled softly at them and said, "Come in."

This woman was friendly and led them to the large living room. Her hair was a dish-water blond and was beginning to grey. In the room a man sat in a chair by the couch. He was well tall and lean; his hair was black with hints of grey and he was reading a news paper. When the two guests entered the room he put the paper down and the woman took a seat in another chair, gesturing to the two to sit on the couch. The man looked the boy in his living room up and down, studying him. His eyes eventually settled on the teen's and he said, "You wearin' makeup, boy? You know, eyeliner's for girls."

The man's tone wasn't rude, just curious. Jeff rubbed his arm and stared down at the floor. He spoke in a voice that was just barely audible, "Um… no. It's kinda… permanent…"

Johnson put his hand on Jeff's shoulder and led him over to the couch. They sat down and his case worker began explaining. Jeff hugged his knees and tried not to focus on the conversation. He didn't want to hear about his family again. The couple looked at Jeff sadly while listening to what Johnson had to say. The man felt bad about his question after hearing about the boy's condition.

"Jeff?"

He looked up at the woman. She continued, "My name's Ellen, and this is my husband, Carl. I'm very sorry about what happened. You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like."

Jeff nodded and said, "Thank you."

Johnson left and Ellen showed him to his new room. For the next couple days things were very quiet. Jeff hardly left his room. When he did he'd never be gone for very long and never went outside. On the third day of him staying there Ellen and Carl took him to the store in town because all he had was the outfit he came in. They bought him some jeans, some t-shirts, and a few hoodies. People looked at him oddly while he was in town. Some people just assumed he was an emo kid, but others wondered what happened to him. He turned started down at his feet and pretended not to notice, all the while feeling their eyes on him. That feeling came back again, burning inside of him. He tried to ignore it, but it seemed to be getting stronger.

When they got back to the house he stayed inside. That feeling always stayed at the back of his mind.

It was another week of quiet. Every night Jeff had terrifying dreams of himself murdering his own family and would wake up in a cold sweat, crying. It was a Saturday night when he woke up around midnight. That feeling was there and it was strong. His body felt weak after his nightmare. Slowly, Jeff made his way to the bathroom. When he got there he threw up, a bitter taste left in his mouth afterward. He washed out his mouth over the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand along the cuts on his face and a stream of tears began to fall from his eyes. Suddenly and image flashed through his mind, a scene.

He was in his bathroom at home, blood all over the place and a knife in his hands. Jeff used the knife that he got from his kitchen to cut lines into his cheeks, making it look as though he had a permanent smile. His mother opened the bathroom door and…

This scene startled him and he step back, running into the wall and falling to a sitting position on the ground. The small shelf on the wall shook with the impact on the wall and various plastic bottles fell to the floor. Surprisingly none of them came open. This, though, reminded Jeff of the fight with Randy and his friends, when they were in the bathroom and the bleach fell on them.

He hurriedly stood up on shaky legs and left the room. The feeling he had grew inside him as he began to remember what had happened the night he came home from the hospital. He walked down the hall, leaning on the wall for support. Another flashback hit him and Jeff fell to his hands and knees on the soft carpet.

"Aren't I beautiful, Mommy?" he asked his mother.

Her face showed her fear as she looked at her son who had gone mad. She nodded slowly, beginning to back out of the room and said, "Y-Yes, son. J-Just let me g-go get Daddy… So he can s-see your face…"

She continued to slowly back out of the room until she was out of view, then she began running to wake her husband. Jeff followed her and heard her say as he reached the doorway of his parent's room, "Honey, wake up! Get the gun! We-"

She had lied to him. She hadn't meant what she said at all. The feeling became overpowering and he said, "You lied, Mommy." Before lunging at her with the knife he'd brought with him, killing her. Out of anger he killed his father as well. If she had been lying then Daddy could have been lying to him all along too. What about Liu…? He crept into his brother's room and saw him asleep. For moment he stared at him, sleeping peacefully in his bed. He had no idea what had happened or what was about to happen. The feeling subsided in that moment…

Liu wasn't his enemy, he was his brother. Liu opened his eyes slowly and looked at Jeff. His eyes widened. Just like that the feeling took over again and Jeff put his hand over Liu's mouth and pressed the blade to his chest. Liu thrashed and fought, but it was no use. Jeff spoke only three words, "Go to sleep."

Jeff picked himself up off the floor, shaking. He took in a few deep, ragged, shuttering breathes and leaned against the wall. The feeling burned inside him, making his stomach turn over and his insides hurt. He leaned there for a moment before returning to his room. When he got there he changed into his black pants and white hoodie, all the while struggling in his mind to keep his grip on reality. Now that his memories were free his madness was beginning to take over once more and he needed to get out of there before he hurt somebody. He didn't bother packing anything as he slipped downstairs to the kitchen. He stopped. The knives sat in their holder on the kitchen counter. He walked toward them and stared at them, fighting with himself as to what to do. Part of him wanted to run away from the house and the nice couple that lived there to keep them safe from… from him. The other part wanted nothing more than to take these knives and shove them into Ellen and Carl's hearts and twist them until the beating stopped.

He extended his hand out to the knives and ran his fingers along the handles. Jeff carefully pulled one from its sheath, observing the way it shined in the moonlight that filtered through the kitchen window. Then he heard footsteps upstairs and a feminine voice call out, "Jeff? Sweetie, are you alright?"

He lowered the knife to his side and stood there a moment, thinking about what to do. The urge to kill the kind lady was becoming unbearable. The footsteps got closer and the last remaining sane part of his mind won out over the madness. He pocketed the knife and bolted out the kitchen door.

Jeff continued to run until he got to the town. That sane part of his mind that had made him run was eaten alive by the feeling. He hid in an alley and waited for somebody to walk by. The town was small, so less people were out at than in the city. Eventually a young couple walked by, chatting about something when the saw Jeff sitting against the brick wall in the alley. The guy, followed by his girlfriend, walked over to him and asked, "You ok, man?"

Jeff let out an insane laugh and said, "Yeah, I'm alright, but it's late. Don't you think it's about time you… GO TO SLEEP?"

The guy took a step back as Jeff stood and pulled the knife out of his pocket. His girlfriend stood ducking behind him, scared. They backed up slowly as Jeff advanced and were about to turn and run when he swung the knife, cutting the guy's throat. Blood sprayed all over him, the walls and the ground, creating a gruesome masterpiece. It wasn't finished yet though. The boyfriend fell backward, pinning the girl under him. She flailed and kicked and began to cry. Jeff step up to her and she tried throwing the rocks on the ground at him, but missed with every throw. He plunged his knife downward, stabbing her in the head, small flecks of her blood splattering onto his face.

He put the weapon back in his pocket and licked the blood off his fingers. He let out a quiet, deep laugh that soon rang out through the night, sounding psychotic and maniacal. Jeff took the money they had on them and the girl's cell phone.

He walked down the street away from the scene, using the phone to call a cab. Ten minutes later the taxi arrived and he climbed in the back seat. The guy looked back at him and said, "Whoa. Looks like you were in one heck of a fight!"

Jeff laughed softly and said, "Yes. It does, doesn't it?"