Jackal's Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own the 13 ghosts

Rating: R for language abuse and other adult concepts.

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

-Telepathy-

Looking around this place I've realized that it is exceptionally bare. The walls once a nice sea green is now almost white with age. This cell's window can't be opened more than an inch so the room is almost unbearably stuffy and hot. I sit on the floor and watch the perspiration as it drips from the window onto the floor. I guess that I might have deserved to live here, what with the things they said I did. I didn't kill anyone but they just won't listen to a psycho.

They call me the Jackal, which is funny because around the 1800's there was a man named the Jackal who killed prostitutes to quench his thirst for blood. I sighed and stood up, my socks almost stuck to the floor. This was my punishment for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Jackal's girl, I hated that name but the staff branded me with that name from the minute I walked, well more like dragged, into this place. It's been about three months since I've 'moved' into this room. I'm bored so I look out the window in my door. It's hard to see through the broken glass, ever since I smashed it and almost broke my hand. I could hear the faint hum of the computers just across the hall at the security desk. I was moved here because I'm considered a security risk.

There are just some days that I wonder what life outside this cell would be like, as my memories of home fade from my mind. This place is horrible to its patients; I haven't

heard a scream or any voices for over a day. Have I been abandoned in this hellish hole?

Just as this thought runs through my mind a small silver tray of food slides under the door

and hits my foot. I back away just enough to squat next to the tray. All I get today is a

slice of pizza and some peas mixed into my corn. They just stopped trying to give me

'normal' food, normal was just too medicinal for me. What with all the hidden pills and other bits of sedation. Soon my food is gone and I slide the tray halfway back through the slot. It starts to pull from my grasp but I pull back and soon a hand appears in my sight. I grab it and sink my teeth into the warm flesh.

The blood feels good in my mouth and sooths my thirst, I could hear screaming from the other side of the door but it didn't make me stop. Only when the hand is pulled by force from my hands do I let it go. I can feel blood dripping from my mouth and I just let it stay, they would make me wash it off later well they could try. I enjoy my weekly treat from the orderlies. I haven't tasted this blood before so it must have come from a very naive new recruit. I stand as much as I could and saw the broken reflection of a blonde man. He was wearing what looked like a nice tailored blue suit, he was holding his wrist and appeared to be looking at me in disbelief. I slowly backed away as the door opened to reveal a very muscular orderly holding a straightjacket. I backed away but soon I was wearing the constraining article. I saw that the 'new orderly' had bandaged his wrist up and was slowly walking toward me.

"That's okay I'll be fine now, leave us alone." He watched the orderly slowly walk out of the room and kept the door open a crack, you know just in case. I watched him used his uninjured hand to straighten up his suit and clutch his bandaged hand in pain. "I guess that you were thirsty, don't they give you anything to drink?"

"Only what I can take without them noticing." I managed to hiss, I almost had forgotten how to speak. He seemed surprised that I could speak almost normally. His expectations of me almost seemed comical. Many people around here didn't even take the time to talk.