Maybe. I don't know all of it. [ Her voice holds a hint of tension, unfocused at the moment, because she can't decide what she's supposed to feel about this. It'd be a big feeling, for sure, but she can't manage it. ] Maybe I was made or maybe they found me and messed with my head. But it seems like that's what I'm for, killing things.

I could show you the first memory I bought if you want. It's just me slaughtering a bunch of innocent people but a friend thought there might be more to it, like someone put me there. It's hard for me to think about details when I'm killing little children.