So, umm... well here is an example!
I have no name. No past. And possibly no future.
I don’t know how or why I escaped; only that I did. When whatever was keeping me unconscious stopped working, I was so scared, and then the explosions started. I had no idea what caused them, or why they were happening, but they were real. Very real. When I realized that my life would be short lived, I became enraged. Or I was, until an enormous explosion, putting the other to shame, reduced the entire building to rubble. I watched in horror as scientists were subjected to the explosion’s full power, their gruesome fate displayed before me.
Thankfully, not even my watery prison could withstand that last blow. Gingerly stepping out of the tank, I pick my way across the debris to examine my surroundings, hoping to find something, anything that will help me navigate this unknown world. As I survey the wreckage, my gaze is drawn to the bodies. I tear myself away, my eyes reluctantly settling on the top half of a filing cabinet. As I near the battered appliance, I notice that its top drawer is marked “TEST SUBJECT: 59860”. For a long time I stare at the drawer, gathering courage. Suppose it contains matters I don’t want to know. But, I allow myself to wonder, what if it contains a name, a birthday, or dare I even hope, a family?
Fervently, I open the drawer. Inside it holds hundreds of files, in varying degrees of disarray. I open a file and pull out the first entry. I’m startled to find I’ve been conscious before. But it was not a pleasant experience. While I was at a daycare center, I was using psychic powers to “cloud” the caretakers’ minds while my “owners” shipped out the children to be experimented on, like I was. Feeling sick with self- loathing, I force myself to continue. Frantically turning pages, I discover that I was transferred to a government facility. What I did there was much worse.
I am filled with memories. I remember condemning over a dozen of those children to become killing devices. Just like me. I smiled as I was praised, while those children were dragged away screaming. I remember it all, and more. And I’m scared. Scared of myself, what I have done, and what I could easily do again. I cause the explosions, I realize, until another explosion, triggered by my intense fear, shocks me back into reality. I watch in horror as the sheets turn into flecks of ash, and the cabinet is reduced to debris, indistinguishable from its surroundings. I gape for a moment, unable to breathe. I want to scream, to switch my life, to take back the deaths, to believe it was all a lie, to have with no past to drag me down. But I can’t. So I silently cry the tears I’ve never cried before, never feeling shame for what I had done. After a while I see my tears are falling on a hand. As I unbury the body, I see that he was a small child. His appearance evokes memories of trying to blow up a village. I tried so hard. Its people were begging me not to, but when I finally succeeded, I was happy. I was disgustingly happy to kill innocents, willing to beg for their lives. I killed children like him.
I look into his eyes, never to open again, and I know what I must do. He was the last innocent to die by my hand. Only one more person will die. Me.
I like to right stories that have a sad ending :l.
. anyway, i am a 2nd dan black belt, im skilled in almost any mod, im active on fourms even though it dosint look like it. im not very good with spelling so your gonna need to excuse me on that 
