The harsh antiseptic smell hung on everything. It was a nasty idea to him - that something could be so 'clean' that it stunk of chemicals – and that this was preferable to nature. Soot and ash were cleaner in his mind than this place ever could be. Unless, of course, he decided to 'clean it up' for them before he left.

He shivered at the idea that those same chemicals that hung so thick in the air as to sting his nose and eyes must also be coating his lungs and filtering in to his blood with every breath he took.

Hospitals disgusted him. They always had. It was no wonder to him that the only reason people ever really came here was because it was a slightly better alternative than death.

"Where…" The boy seemed to have awoken suddenly and he looked panicked. "Where am I?"

He struggled briefly and cast his eyes to the nurse who had just that moment entered the room.

"Whoa there. Calm down." She rushed to his bedside and pressed the call button by his bed.

"You're at St. Jermaines Hospital… In the Psychiatric ward." She replied.

His eyes went wide and he looked like a hurt, lost child. "But …why?" He asked as sincerely as possible. "Why am I here? Why does my face hurt?"

She let out a slow and sad exhale of breath. He seemed rational enough. "You came in unconscious earlier. The police said you were hurting yourself."

He looked away and seemed lost in thought. Then he turned his soulful eyes back to her. "I don't remember." He said plainly.

Her heart went out to him. "Well, you're fine now. You're tied down because we're worried, but no one's going to hurt you. We're holding you for a three-day observation period. Doctor Stevens is on duty tonight. He'll be here in a just a minute."

The boy swallowed. "Am I in trouble?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so." She said softly.

He relaxed back in to the bed and looked around the room. "My face…" He looked back at her. "And my head… they hurt."

She nodded. "I can get you something for the pain."

He seemed to shiver for a moment. "Just… Not a shot, okay? I hate needles."

She smiled. "Okay. No needles."

She crossed over to the cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. "Any allergies?" She asked.

"Not that I know of."

She dropped the pills in to a paper cup and filled another with water. Then she used the cup to deliver them in to his mouth, keeping her fingers safely distant. A swallow of water later he smiled and she nodded.

"The Doctor should be coming. Ill see what's keeping him." She turned away.

"Thank you." He said softly. "And… Merry Christmas."

She turned back and smiled. "No problem." Then she dropped her eyes, but not her smile and continued out of the room.

He turned his attention out the window and put his mind to work adjusting his appearance.

Keep the puppy dog eyes. He told himself. Look nervous. Maybe a lip quiver when they tell you what you did. Swallow hard when they tell you…

By the time the doctor finally arrived, he was ready. And the performance was worthy of an Oscar – even if he did think so himself.

The doctor told him everything he expected to hear. It was okay that he didn't remember just yet. The mind blocks out traumatic experiences, they would talk more tomorrow. And if he got some sleep tonight – maybe he could sit in on a group therapy session tomorrow at noon – and that way he wouldn't have to spend Christmas Eve alone. Wouldn't that be nice?

He managed to keep a strait face the entire time the doctor was with him. Managed to seem concerned and lucid. Not at all like the type who would happily beat his own face to a bloody pulp for a chance to sneak in to a hospital. Not at all the type who would have a hidden agenda all his own.

Not at all the kind of person who could play a doctor, a nurse and a handful of cops so perfectly as to make them all do exactly what he wanted.

Oh no, not him.

Inside, where no one could see, he was raging in fits of maniacal laughter.

It was all he could do to keep it inside.

All he could do not to laugh in their faces and call them all fools or cowards.

It was a testament to his strength, his will and the genius of his plan that he didn't reach out with his mind and find the nearest flame.

That he didn't feed that flame with his insanity, draw it through the walls, floors or wherever he had to in order to bring it to him, bend it to his will, free himself and raze this building to the ground… Just to show them all that, straps or no straps, no one controlled his destiny but him, no matter how much he allowed them to believe that they did.

Let them have tonight. He told himself. You know what you want and tomorrow… It will be yours – Even if you have to create a hell on earth to make it happen – it will be yours.

And he sighed, dejectedly, like a lost and helpless soul at the mercy of strangers in a world he didn't understand. He stifled the giggle that tried to raise itself at that thought and whined slightly instead - just for dramatic effect just in case anyone was listening or passing by.

"So far… So good." He told himself with a slight smile. And then, with no effort at all, he closed his eyes and drifted quietly and calmly off to a deep and restful sleep.