Shortly after my initial experience with my dad I became aware of the presence of something within me that was not all me. Perhaps it was nothing more than the animalistic center that is in every human being but something about the way that it felt told me otherwise. This was not a rage filled being waiting to lash out at everything around it this was something in total control.

I did what every child faced with such a dilemma would do. Vainly, I would even say desperately, I battled against this inner demon. I tried to suppress this nature that told me that human beings were not worth the effort trying to save. As I resisted all of the impulses and attempts to control me I could feel it claiming more and more of me. As it did it started to take on a personality all its own.

Over the next few years this inner predator’s draining away at my resolve to fight brought me to a point where I almost slipped. I was on the playground and a boy a couple of years older than I was decided that I was going to become his new chew toy. He went out of his way to make every moment of my life at school miserable and since I spent the majority of my time at home nursing my lumps the majority of my time at home as well.

It wasn’t terribly long before the creature that I really was under the surface of my eight year old cherub face came bubbling to the surface. I can remember the boy with his mybloggers brown hair and his fat face laughing at me as he punched me. After a minute or so of the beating the line between me and what I had tried so hard to contain for so long were destroyed and I became something that was not me.

Whatever it was came over me in an instant. The punches didn’t even register anymore, everything in me went cold. For the first time in my life I became something close to what I am now, calculating, cruel, and ravenous. My hands that had been seconds before feebly trying to shield my face from the onslaught shot up and clenched around the fat boy’s throat. I could see him gasp for breath and my hands knew exactly what to do.

With a strength that was definitely not my own and not fueled by any kind of adrenaline I threw him off of me. I’d never been stronger than I was, faster than I was at that moment. Before he could even get back up, whether through pain or panic I was on him like a deranged animal.

WHAM WHAM WHAM. My heavy kicks and stomps rained down on his chest and sides and he cried. I picked up rocks and threw them at his face. I remember dropping to one knee and punching him in the balls as hard as I could. The teachers heard him screaming and ran to his aide, dragging me off of him before I sent him home in a stretcher.

I wanted to though.