Author's Note: Ok, if any of you are confused at why Drake meets Mr Kingsley so early in the story it is because I'm going to do two points of view in this story. First, there is going to be the more 'present' time, where Drake is now seen as a psychopath and he sees Mr Kingsley on a regular basis. Then, there's going to be the part where you go back to Drake's childhood and he was just developing sadism.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and please keep on giving me feedback. All reviews are welcome and I look forward to hearing improvements and any other things you have to say. Thank you :)

"Drake Merwin?"

"Who wants to know?" Said Drake, slumping in his chair, a bored look upon his face. The room was rather dull really, although it was originally made to seem cheery. The yellow walls, since their day of painting, had faded and were now a sort of dirty white. The bright pictures on the wall were peeling at the edges and their colour had also been a victim to time and sunlight.

"My name is Mr Kingsley." Said Frederick, a little stiffly "I'm going to ask you a few questions, Drake. You see, I've heard that you've been having a few...issues, as of late and I'm going to try and help you." Mr Kingsley spoke kindly...well, as kindly as he could. Mr Kingsley's voice wasn't exactly kind, you'd understand if you'd heard it yourself. Drake didn't appear to be listening, his eyes were glazed over as he looked at Mr Kingsley with a slightly amused expression on his face. "Drake, are you listening?"

Drake seemed to wake up then and he blinked a few times, then said "Oh, sorry." It was apparent in his tone that he was most definitely not sorry. Mr Kingsley was not a fool and he found children such as this, tiresome. Drake wore an expression of complete sincerity on his face as he said "I was just imagining what you would look like tied to a chair with several degrees of burns on your face." His eyes seemed to smile then and Mr Kingsley wasn't quite sure whether he was joking or not. "Mr Merwin, I hardly think that-"

"Do you suppose that it would hurt, Mr Kingsley?" Said Drake, leaning forward.

"-that is a suitable form of conversation." Finished Frederick, his eyes narrowing.

"But do you?" Continued Drake, completely unfazed.

"Do I what, Merwin?" Mr Kingsley had quickly seen that friendly tones were not going to work on this boy. He shouldn't have presumed they would, really, since Drake was one of the special cases.

"Think that it would hurt. Burning, I mean."

"Yes, I think it would hurt quite a lot, however-"

"Good." Said Drake, actually smiling for the first time "I'll be sure to try it." Mr Kingsley paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and analysing the behaviour that Drake had displayed so far. "Drake, I think that you are forgetting the reason we are here."

"No, sir, I haven't forgotten." Said Drake, a little bit of a dangerous edge to his voice "but you see, your reasons are much different than mine. You are here to help me but I, on the other hand, am planning on getting something else out of this meeting."

"And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"You're the psychiatrist, Mr Kingsley, not me." Said Drake, smiling his shark like smile "You find out for yourself." At this point Frederick had made a firm resolve in his head to do exactly that but wasn't going to voice his opinions out loud. The meeting carried on with Mr Kingsley having little success in getting any useful information out of Drake. "Thank you for your time, Drake Merwin. You are now free to go." Out of habit, Frederick reached for his cup of coffee that was now stone cold.

"Like your coffee hot, do you Mr Kingsley?" Mr Kingsley stared at Drake with that blank expression he almost permanently carried upon his face. "You want to be careful. Dangerous thing, hot coffee." As Drake made for the door he turned back one last time and said "burns," very quietly. But Mr Kingsley was not a fool and he recognised a threat when he saw one.

As Mr Kingsley walked to the office where he'd left his coat and bowler hat, he thought about Drake Merwin. He was nothing special. Just another boy with something wrong with his brain. Just your typical psychopath. He couldn't quite fathom why he needed to come all this way to sort him out, he was an easy job. Yes, Drake had threatened him but he hadn't tried to kill him in the first five minutes of the meeting. Just talk, he wouldn't actually do anything. Empty threats and lies. Frederick walked into the office to the sound of Alan Farmer singing along to some pop song on the radio. He winced at the loud sounds, the out of tune singing and lyrics that made no sense at all. Didn't people know what good music was anymore? Obviously not. Alan turned around and exclaimed "how are you doing, Freddie?" Shaking his hand vigorously.

"I am well, thank you Mr Farmer."

"How was...?" Alan trailed off.

"Nothing special. A perfectly normal case of sadism, nothing extreme. He wants to make out he's better than me, wants to try and scare me. But I am a man of experience and, to me, he's just an irritating little boy."

"So...you've sorted him out then?"

"Mr Farmer, I'm a psychiatrist, not a magician. You cannot make psychopathic behaviour disappear by clicking your fingers. It is a long, drawn out process."

"But I thought with your reputation and all-"

"I am not known for my speed, but my results, which is the most important thing."

"Well said!" Said Alan, clapping Mr Kingsley on the back. "See you later then, Freddie." Alan Farmer waved as Frederick made his way to the door. He tipped his hat and said "good day" and then he was gone. As Mr Kingsley walked down the busy street he thought Merwin might be unsettling to be in a room with, but at least he gets my name right.

Mr Kingsley arrived in the room he was staying in. Tasteless, absolutely tasteless. The colours were too bright and glaring, the furniture rather wobbly and paintings of...well, Mr Kingsley wasn't quite sure what they were of, they just looked like the work of a three year old to him. Splashes and dots of colour all mingling together.

Later, Mr Kingsley was sat in his living room steaming coffee beside him. Black, as usual. Chocolate on a plate. Dark, of course. Mr Kingsley found the only chocolate he could stomach was dark chocolate. Milk chocolate was far too sweet, no flavour. You just got bombarded with sugar coating your tongue. White chocolate wasn't much better. Far too sickly. Mr Kingsley ordered his chocolate from a special supplier, it wasn't cheap but he had money. It was that sort of chocolate that's almost 100% cocoa and 0% milk, 0% sugar. Of course, it wasn't, but it was the sort of chocolate that if anyone else tried it they wouldn't recognise it as chocolate but something bitter and too strong. But Mr Kingsley wasn't anyone and he liked his strong, dark flavours.

As Mr Kingsley indulged himself with his dark chocolate and black coffee his music played in the background. Classical. What else? He believed that the true masters lived in the past and their music never died. Nobody of today quite lived up to the standard. Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin...they, amongst others, were the only true musicians of the world. Frederick picked up a file he had been given that day, a brown one with DRAKE MERWIN on the front in block letters. Underneath that it said STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL. Mr Kingsley sighed and began reading about the boy that has wreaked so much havoc amongst American psychiatrists.

After a few minutes of scanning the page Mr Kingsley almost choked on his chocolate. His eyes widened and he began to leaf through the pages his eyes resting for just a moment on each of the headings Drake Merwin assaults another student, Drake Merwin is found with lethal weapons, Drake Merwin watches disturbing video. Mr Kingsley stopped and began to read: Drake Merwin was seen watching a disturbing video of a murder that took place some miles away. The video had been kept as evidence by the police for government purposes and was not shown to the public as it contained alarming scenes of violent stabbings picked up by a CCTV camera. The video was kept on a police network and Drake Merwin was found viewing it in his bedroom and laughing as the victim died. This- Mr Kingsley snapped the file shut and stared at the wall opposite him. Looks like there is more to this boy then meets the eye he thought perhaps he is a special case after all.