I do not think I will ever be mistaken for who I once was or how I once looked--why am I so convinced I was different before, compared to now?

Before. That is a cruel word for me, and it repeats so endlessly. Everything in memory is gone, shattered or blown away. Where? I know not; yet it is all gone, and I am left with wondering only this: Before, was I the terror my heart says I must have been? Why else was I so obviously condemned to die, albeit in such an unusual manner--chained and shackled, no less!--unless someone sought to punish me for some atrocious, unspeakable crime?

I will wear the resultant scars of my past sins for the remainder of my life. Will I ever know what I did to cause them?