Okay, second chapter,and this is probably the quickest chapter I've ever written.

P.S If you want to write like this, just listen to too much Evanescence, eat wa-a-ay too much mango and catch a cold (sniff). Enjoy Phrixos' insanity, guys.

"So yes, I do have an heir, to stop your rumours and whispers behind my back." Jack was rather disappointed with his citizens' behaviour. But at the same time amused, wickedly. Mumbles and murmurs filled the Hall after his speech before someone said from the back row:

"And where is the boy then, Jack?"

Sadly, he recognised the voice, but mumbled in reply,

"The…the Human World. No older than 16, somewhere in England, I suspect."

Even more Towners whispered at this, whilst their Pumpkin King descended behind the dusty black curtain. A solitary bat noticed his arrival and took off through the open window, illuminated by the bright full moon. Jack stood silently next to the window, holding the backs of his arms, contemplating. There was no way he was going to find the boy now, what with everyone aware of him and it being the 30th of September. The next weeks were devoted to the Halloween festivities, preparing for their big moment. But maybe it would keep his mind off the boy. Just maybe.

"Jack?" came that voice, the solitary questioning voice.

He sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly.

"Sally." He turned to look at her, standing beside the curtains, her long red hair falling elegantly down her back. Her eyes, filled with the most fragile mix of sadness and disbelief, were wide and painful to look at. He averted his eyes to a stack of ink blotted music sheets resting on the piano's top precariously.

"I didn't mean to…It wasn't…" he sighed again "I'm sorry, Sally."

Her small hand on his shoulder, exerting no pressure at all. He didn't know what she felt. Sadness? Anger? Resent? Jack really didn't know what he felt, either. Emptiness filled his bones, making him tired and longing for his study chair, left alone to think and read, lost in his own labyrinth of thoughts. To sleep.

Without a word, he walked away from her and through the Hall under the eyes of the Towners, but stopped outside the Town Gates. Tall and steely, they made just enough space for most people to squeeze through. Jack went through without a thought, and disappeared into the graveyard.

Laura Manwood was back the next day, accompanied by that briefcase full of papers. From reading a small heading on one corner, Phrixos reckoned it was to do with him. After it being presented to him, he realised it was a release paper, complete with his real name.

Phrixos Jack Caber. Born 31.10.88. Known relatives: Jenna Caber (mother), father unknown. London, England.

"You are officially free to leave, Jack." She had said cheerfully with that strained smile again. But to Phrixos, this brought him back to reality with a sharp realisation. He was alone again, back in the cruel real world. Alone.

"I've arranged for a room in a boarding school, to finish your education, at Greygrove. With a girl, so sorry." He heard only the words school and girl.

Oh no.

"I can't." was all he said. Laura looked at him strangely, peering over her glasses at his protest.

"I'm afraid you have no choice, Jack."

"Phrixos. And I can't. Not there, not anywhere."

She ignored him and went to fetch his guard.

After five minutes, he was taken out of the normal straitjacket. These changes made Phrixos feel even uneasier than Laura's questions the day before. His arms felt heavy at his sides, and odd. He could feel his schizophrenia hovering at the borders of conciousness, but he ignored it. More important things to worry about. Like people.

The soft autumn breeze on his face felt almost strange, a forgotten thing. It doesn't really matter in an asylum; you're locked inside yourself, bored out of your skull. Well, Phrixos had been anyway. He soon felt cold and small in the street, following Laura to her car. He was considered sane now, and that scared him. Who knew what things he could do would do? The slightest thing could set him off, a harsh sound, heady scent. But what was even more terrifying was Phrixos picturing the things that could happen in his mind's eyes, unable to stop.

So he was grateful when Laura's car shut out the noise and enveloped him in a strange cocoon against the hard world outside its four doors. Watching it fly outside his window was tiring though. His eyelids drooped, lashes obscuring his vision. Sleep took over and blotted out his worries.

Looking in the mirror, Laura could see the sleeping boy. Just ten miles to go, the roads bombarded with cars coming form work, rushhour. The clock on her dashboard read about six o'clock, damn. They were late.

Another glance at Phrixos, calm and, well, normal. It was actually hard to imagine the stories she had heard about him. Murders, blood. Always unbelievably horrible and gutchurning. But she had heard about the two teenagers on the internet, and that had put Laura on his case. Now here she was, driving the very same boy to his new home.

What had she done?

It was dark when Phrixos awoke, stiff but oddly comfortable at the same time. Something was wrong. He could hear people talking somewhere. Laura, he recognised her voice again. But where was he? Sitting up, he shivered. In a bed, a small room, no distinguishing features except a collection of photos on the wall, next to another bed. In the bed, someone was sleeping, Phrixos squinting to see their chest moving in the dim light. It was cold.

He huddled further under the sheets on the bed, wrapping his arms around his skinny frame for some likeness of his past 5 months. It seemed uncomfortable to not hold them like that now. Strange.

He turned his head, his black bag next to the bed. Just his old clothes, a few books that various social workers had given him, mostly fantasy. His dear possessions, few as they were. It was the only thing he had left. Except…

A thought flashed in his mind suddenly, where was he?

Phrixos tried to remember what Laura had said, a school. He got up; he was wearing his clothes still, and looked out of the window.

Second floor, far left side of an immense grey building, a few lights on in the other rooms. Didn't look like much of a school to him, but still. Sitting back down on the bed, he noticed a clock on his roommate's bedside table. Twenty-five past twelve, he should get some sleep. Ask questions tomorrow.

He sat holding his forearms, up against the wall on his bed. The coolness against his back reminded once more of the asylum and he drifted into a deep, nightmare-filled sleep.