The wailing always starts around dusk. At first all you hear is a few whimpers. Gradually, they build up into full-blown sobs. Ever since I started working at Biloxi I'd heard those cries, echoing from the patients' rooms. Behind locked doors and iron bars they drowned in their sorrows.

I love those cries. They remind me that they're only weak, powerless humans. That I am superior. It gives me pleasure to watch them suffer until their last moments. That's when I make my move. I'm "helping" them stop their suffering.

But one patient was different from the others. She was not crazy. She would not cry. She'd lay on her cot and stare at the ceiling, a blank look on her face. As I peered through the bars on the door of 26A, I'd noticed her blank look would become still and echo shock for a few minutes, then change back to an emotionless stare.

It annoyed me to immense amounts that she would not give in. One night I decided to see what was going on.

"Hello, Mary, I'm Dr. Michaels," I said, using my alias, as I unlocked her door.
Annoyance flickered across her face, soon replaced by shock and awe when she'd seen who I was.

"Y-you're--I've seen--" she stuttered, but then she fell silent, her eyes glazing over once more.

She was not anything special. Her black hair hung flat and boring around her tiny face. She had only been here for a couple of days at the most, but her skin was already sallow. The girl, who had resigned to merely staring at me with her wide blue eyes, was certainly nothing to look at... but her mere presence captivated me. Maybe it wasn't her presence as much as it was her scent. Yes, that was it. The taste of her warm aroma made my throat feel as dry as the Sahara Desert. It was crisp and clean, as if I was by the coast. If I hadn't stolen half of the blood supply in the hemodialysis department earlier today, I wouldn't have been able to resist. But I did, because I was strong.

"Are you feeling alright, Mary?" I asked, trying to make my voice gentle. The girl rolled over onto her side and nodded, her mouth falling open into a comical 'O'.

"It's Alice," she whispered, her voice light, like wind chimes in the air. I jumped at the sound; It sounded as harmonic as a vampire's, but she was definitely human. Yes, she was more human than any of the others here. And to make it worse, she had an innocent look about her. I was never one for sympathy, however, but it made it a lot more fun when I took the life of somebody who thought a lot of themselves.

"It says here 'Mary Brandon'," I replied, skeptical. It was such a human thing- doing trivial things such as changing names. I only changed my name for convenience sake, to prevent suspicion.

"Yes, my name is Mary Alice Brandon," the girl muttered, pulling a horrid rag doll off of her nightstand and cradling it under her chin as if she were a toddler. I refrained from rolling my eyes. I was no where near compassionate enough to be in the mental health business.

"Would you like your dinner now, Alice?" I asked, whipping a styrofoam tray off of the cart. What a foolish girl. She had yet to stop staring, and her eyes were boring holes into my soul. Of course, I use the term 'soul' extremely lightly.

"Oh, I'm not hungry," Alice replied, staring at the food tray apprehensively. I smirked, turning on my charm.

"Ah, I see," I muttered. So that was why she was here. It was a new fad very popular amongst the young adults- anorexia. That was why I could not detect any signs of madness from this little girl. "You're probably smart anyway. This food isn't the best. Could I bring you anything else?" Alice shook her head, only moving slightly. It took will power that I never thought that I had to leave that room, and even in the hallway... Her scent followed me. I didn't think that I would be able to go home tonight without taking this girl with me.

But like I said before- I am strong. Humans have no control over me. It is my sole purpose in life to control the human population, and the captivating blue eyes of some little girl was certainly not going to stop me from performing my duties. Call me sadistic or bellicose; I do not care.

As I made my way down the barren hallway, I heard the wailing again. Only this time, it was coming from room 26A as well.