The Herculean Entry: Nefarious

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Who are you?

I grit my teeth in frustration as I lash out viciously against a defenceless man. A scream tears through his throat, the animalistic sound of pure agony.

"Damn it!" I shout. "Fight back, you stupid, useless worm! Fight back! Fight me like you fought that woman who did nothing  to you - fight me, you coward! Fight!"

The man does nothing, and this merely angers me. I growl as I deliver a fatal blow that knocks the breath out of him. He drops to the floor and flops like a fish, and his lips form the three words I absolutely despise – the three words I fear – just as he dies. Just as he dies like every person I've killed.

Without a fight.

Who are you?

With no one else around, I have no way to release my anger and frustration in the way I normally do, and she won't be back before dawn. So I have to think about it. I have to give it some thought. I have to finally address the question that has haunted me for so long. 

Who was I, really? My name is Daemon – a name I have given to myself – and I haven't yet decided on a surname, but is a name really the whole basis of one's identity? My physical build indicates that I am around sixteen or seventeen, and I'm not entirely certain, but does my age really matter?

My physical appearance? Does that make me who I am? I have dark hair and eyes the colour of ash. My hair falls over my eyes and reaches just past my shoulders. I have a strong, muscular build and a tall body. I am male. 

But a human being has to be more than just their name, age, gender and appearance, right? A human being has the capacity to think, to scheme.

A human being has a personality. So what is my personality? I know I am intelligent. I am swift, agile, strong. I am cunning and calculating. But these are just words; these are mere adjectives. Can who I am as a person be narrowed down to mere words? Words that can be used for anyone else, words that are common and ordinary?

I grit my teeth and clench my eyes shut. Am I just like everyone else?

No, no it can't be. I'm unique, I know it. I desperately search for more clues. What else makes me as a person? What makes me human? What makes me me?

It hits me. Everyone has a story. They all have experienced things that shaped their personality, they all have memories. They all come from somewhere, some place they can call home. They all can go somewhere, some place they know they can always return to.

Every human being has a history... right? And what if I don't? Does that make me less human than everyone else? Does that make me unique? Is that what makes me special – the fact that I woke up one day with no recollection of who I was, where I came from, and how I got there? Does the fact that I don't know who I am make me who I am?

If I can remember, will I be a different person? I won't be Daemon anymore, would I? I'd be someone else. I'd have a different name. I'd have a different personality, a different set of experiences. 

I'd have a purpose in life.

The fact is, I don't know who I am. You can't figure out who you are if you don't know who you used to be. I could have been a murderous psychopath, a selfless hero, a thief, a robber, a patriarch... or just another ordinary person. I could have been miserable, with two normal parents, or I could have been a happy orphan. I might have been raised in the Wild, or deep in the Metro areas. I might have had friends; I might have even had a pet.

I might have had a family.

I could have been anyone. Anyone at all. But I don't know, I just don't know who I am. Who I really am.

Who I am - or who I'm not - will always be my greatest strength, but it will always be my biggest weakness too.  With no family, I have nothing to regret. With no home, I have nowhere to return to. With no past, I have nothing to lose. With no past, I have nothing to gain. It is my forte, and my Achilles heel.

My greatest fear is also my biggest dream. To find out who I am. To find out what happened to me. To find myself.

Because without my memories, I am nothing... and yet, I'm everything.