A few months ago, or at least I think it was a few months ago, I got my first solid memory. There were men in white, staring at me.
"His eyes are open!" one of them had said. At the same time, I didn't comprehend what he was saying, but now I know that he was referring to me. I now know what things are; what they mean. Though, I cannot remember learning them. Tree, rock, grass, dirt; I see them, and the word appears in my mind, as if from a memory.
About an hour ago, I saw a four-legged creature. I thought "dog," and another image of a dog flashed through my mind. In the image, the dog had sleek, golden fur, large ears, and was running through a patch of grass towards the young one that had called it…This dog I was looking at had no fur, and no skin. It had a long muzzle and short, pointed ears. It had merely whined at me, and walked away. A few hours before this, I had encountered another being. It was the first, though not the last, life that I ever took. Looking back, I have no idea why I did it. Most likely it was instinct, the same instinct that, at this very moment, is telling me to kill, kill and feed.
When I looked at this creature I had killed, I thought "man." Then, I looked at myself. I looked at my arms, much bigger than his, my heart, this man had no visible heart. I looked completely different than him. And yet, when I looked at myself, I thought "man." But somewhere in the back of my mind, there was another thought.
"No," it said. "Tyrant."