Teen Ink

Prologue

I am afraid of the truth.

I decide this only now, while I stand alone on the bloodied battlefield of life. In my hand, I hold a sword. The blood of many is encrusted onto it's gleaming blade. The lives I have ended with this sword is countless, if I have even been keeping count. I killed without reason, and without mercy.

All because I had to. Because of what the truth of my nature was, and what I was destined to do. As unfair as it seems, it was the only way I could keep myself alive.

But this makes no sense. My life, my purpose, is unclear, even to me. I have so many questions unanswered, but only so because I am afraid of the truth, and what the answers to my questions might be. I live in a world of ever-lasting questions: my birth, my purpose, even what I am.

What am I?

Am I evil? Do I even exist?

All that was told to me is that I exist though the power of human imagination. Fantasy is created through reality, and nightmares exist only through dreams. That, I know.

I suppose that even now, after my bloody battle against myself, I still have no answers, and am no closer to the truth.

But is that a bad thing?

If I am really afraid of the truth, then why do I seek it? Why not run?

But the answer is there.

What is the purpose of life if all you do is run from reason?

The answer to that is, there is none. There is no reason for life, no reason to waste the Earth on you if your only wish is to run from the world.

Even I, the unknown Demon, feel no point to run from reason.

I believe in facing you fears, even if it is the truth.

Because without reason to live, you cannot.

And if you cannot live, you simply do not exist.