I can't feel my body...

At some points I don't even have full control of my body. Recounting this story I'll sometimes speak about myself in third person, but only because I forget that I am myself at times. I find myself manually activating my memory of myself, and it's like I've just woken up from a dream. 

Everyone acts exactly how I expect them to sometimes. It's like a machine -- people, that is. The people around me are all systems. Very fun, hyper haptic systems. Reality itself sometimes feels fake. As if I'm in some sort of movie. Even when things don't go my way, when everything fails, it feels like this was somehow meant to happen. While I have to get myself out of unfavorable situations, I find myself thankful for having gone through it. Collecting memories of my own and storing them for future use. Like leveling up in a video game. Its an odd analogy, but its the only one that's made sense for me so far. 

Daemon grew up in a country town that was peaceful for the most part. Kids would try to make trouble where none should've existed, and the adults just let it happen. In any event, there wouldn't be any real consequences for the actions of the residents, because while everyone minded their business, they were tightknit enough to come together and solve a problem. A girl could get pregnant and no one would bat an eye -- except her parents of course. Funerals and weddings consisted mostly of family and a few friends. Stores were hiring most of the time, although most of everyone worked at the two recreation centers.

Daemon kept to himself, but he had no problem making friends. Nobody paid attention to the fact that he had more friends that were girls than boys. It wasn't that he preferred them over boys, it just kinda worked out that way. In the previous years, Daemon had the top scores for tests in all of his town, and scored 3rd in the entire state. None of that reflected in his grades. The general consensus is that no kid that scores 156 in aptitude tests should have C's in all of his classes. It's almost as if he were keeping his grades stale on purpose, as to not stand out. He was comfortable in his youth, and didn't worry about things like a successful future and a big family. Things like that didn't interest him in the slightest. He only did what he was told, and did what he was expected to do. If his parents cared enough, he'd up his grades, but they are lenient with things like that so he just slides by.

There was always a darkness in his eyes. Not an evil one, just a vacant one. As if nothing were interesting to him. His baby pictures were full of bright smiles and sparkling eyes, but he slowly declines throughout his elementary years. By the time he hit 5th grade he had to be told to smile in his pictures, so he spent time developing a fake smile. One that people would like. His cheeks would light up his face and his eyes spoke of joy. Eventually he was able to create a group of emotions to convey to people, and it just became natural. When no one was looking, though, it all just washed away. Back to the nothingness he'd felt since he was a child. It didn't make him  sad, it didn't make him happy, it just made him. He was just there. 

With no meaning to his existence, he had to create one. Nothing like "saving the world" or "destroying this company" made him excited. His mind wouldn't adhere to a "noble purpose." So much potential but nowhere to apply it, what does one do? One day he woke up and decided his only purpose in life is to win. In his own words: "If I win, that is an accomplishment. If I lose, that is an accomplishment." He wanted to put everything he had into winning any game or competition he was put in, because if he didn't, then it would be meaningless for him. He knew how to get what he wanted when he wanted it, but often he didn't want anything. A kid with little to no desire scares parents, so his offered him treats and gadgets unwarranted. He'd always choose a nonchalant approach to the gifts, but remembered to say "thank you" and "I've been wanting this for a while" so his parents could feel like detectives solving the mystery of his desire. 

Recently a girl had gone missing. This girl was a friend of Daemons, so naturally he was questioned by the police. Everyone suspected she had gone and hurt herself, and is floating in the river somewhere. Daemon talked to her at times, but it was nothing often. The only meaningful conversation they'd had was about her depressive state. Daemon didn't know what to say to her, but apparently his words helped her more than they should've. He wondered if it had something to do with her feelings towards him, but he shook that idea as things like that were an annoyance to him. Her parents were distraught, as expected when your child dies of an apparent suicide.

Daemon sat at his desk and stared at his blank homework assignment on his computer. Then an idea popped into his head. "I should assist in finding this girl." He had a little jump in his heart, as if he'd just turned on a little switch that opened up a chance to cure this boredom he'd been feeling. If not for a while, then only temporarily. He started going through their chatlogs, to see if there'd been anything he missed. Any subliminal hints, any mention of a guy, something to give him a head start, since the police didn't have any extensive knowledge of their conversations together. Then he saw it, the first message she'd sent him.

"Hey Daemon, I don't want to go into too much detail, but have you seen your friend Malek around?"