Cain
Cain woke to a pounding headache and a a fuzzy, disgusting mouth. He tried to move and was furious to discover the limits of his movement. A turn of the head, a shifting of his hands and feet...that was about it. He threw back his head and howled obscenities and threats. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL! GONNA RIP YOUR THROATS OUT!"
"Well, I can see that someone is awake," Jean commented dryly as she walked across the infirmary.
"I'm gonnna kill you! Gonna laugh over your bleeding corpse! Rip you a new hole with my fangs!" He thought longingly about what he would do if he ever got free. He was surprised to hear a gasp from Jean. He shifted his head so he could see her and grinned ferally. "You a telepath? Then look at this, bitch!" He concentrated on when he had killed his family, at the tender age of thirteen and a half, his delight at their shocked betrayal and the blood that had painted the walls of his surburban home. He was rewarded with a clatter of something metal falling to the ground, quickly followed by the sound of Jean vomiting into a handy receptacle.
"You're sick!"
"I don't think so. I am what I am, after all. A predator. I kill for fun, and for food. You kill, I've read about it. I'm just more honest about it." His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive whisper. "Didn't you feel it? That power of life and death, and then shattering it with a blow..."
"Never."
"Don't lie to yourself! I'm what you are, but I accept it! I *revel* in it." His harsh whooping laughter chased her out of the room.