Jacob Dustin BEFEHL

"Aughhh... It's morning already. Aaagh, my head is killing me. I suppose I should take a shower and then head out in search of a job since I'm nearly broke."

I reckon I should start by introducing myself, right? Well, my name is Jacob Dustin BEFEHL. My last name means "order" in German, and I grew up in an orphanage. Someone left me at the door when I was just a year old, along with a piece of paper containing my name and birthdate, along with a $50,000 donation to the orphanage. That's all I know about my origins.

I want to say that growing up there was terrible, but it wasn't. Despite growing up without parents, life was good. Everyone at the orphanage was like one big family, and the woman in charge, Aisha, or "Mama" as everyone called her, was the closest thing to a mother we had. She was old-fashioned and stern, and memories of those days still make me shiver. She used to discipline us firmly, but only if we did something really wrong, like stealing or bullying. Yet, every child, from the youngest to the rebellious teenagers, loved her, and we treated her like our real mother. Even to this day, we contribute whatever little we can and visit the orphanage to help out whenever possible.

Anyway, I had a fairly typical childhood, except I was a bit stronger than my peers and never fell ill. I heal quickly if i get injured, even nasty scars, which would fade away within days. I became a policeman at the age of 24, mainly because I'm one of those adrenaline junkies. However, real-life policing wasn't quite as exciting as the cop shows. It mostly involved dealing with mundane shoplifters, drunk drivers, and a plethora of Karens.

By the way, I stand at 1.83 meters tall, with a well-built athletic body despite not frequenting the gym too often. My eyes used to be dark brown, but now they are golden. I have brown hair and, according to me at least, consider myself the most handsome man in the world – cough, cough.

Moving on, I got married at the age of 26 to a woman named Sara. We had known each other since college, fell in love, and tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony attended by Mama and my orphanage family.

The marriage didn't endure for long. We divorced after a year, and while I'd like to blame her, it wouldn't be fair. You see, my job as a policeman, albeit monotonous, occasionally placed me in dangerous situations. I had volunteered for high-risk scenarios, which resulted in me being shot three times, surviving car accidents, and sustaining broken ribs. To top it off, an encounter with a criminal I had previously arrested turned violent, becoming the final strain on our marriage. We parted on good terms, and at least I retained possession of my house. I loved her, but every man's home is his castle, and speaking of castles, I inherited one when I turned 18. However, I never visited it; it always gave off a spooky and haunted vibe, though perhaps now I should pay a visit, since I'm already going crazy.

Nevertheless, everything remained relatively stable until about a year ago. It all began with the headaches, followed by the unsettling sight of people transforming into monstrous creatures. When they look me in the eyes they would panic, screaming "GRIMM," and their behavior towards me became erratic. Some fled as if tomorrow would never come, while others turned aggressive, chanting "GRIMM DIIIIIE DIIIIIE." A few of these monstrous individuals would even plead, tears in their eyes, for me not to decapitate them.

As for my job, the first time I encountered one of these creatures, it resembled a dog with a pronounced snout, and I instinctively fired my weapon. Luckily, the creature survived, but my actions resulted in suspension and a month of mandatory psychiatric evaluation. When I recounted what I had witnessed to the psychiatrist, his gaze turned peculiar, prompting me to halt my narrative before he deemed me unfit for society.

Upon my return to work, everything seemed ordinary until my partner and I apprehended a shoplifter, and the phenomenon repeated itself. The apprehended man morphed into a rat-like monster, shouting "GRIMM" as he attacked. Overwhelmed, I turned to my partner, only to witness him transforming into a bird-like creature. His terrified eyes met mine, and he addressed me as Grimm. I drew my firearm, pointed it at both of them, and repeatedly demanded to know, "WHAT ARE YOU?"

Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to shoot my partner – he was a good person. Amidst a mental breakdown, I lost my job, and I spent a year confined to a mental institution. The headaches intensified, accompanied by an unsettling urge to end lives. Approaching certain individuals triggered this impulse, a primal instinct compelling me to kill. Yet, I resisted those urges. After inquiring, I discovered that these individuals were murderers.

I managed to retain my sunglasses, because when I was coming to the hospital, I was wearing them and found out that when people changed to monsters and looked at me, they didn't freak out, so I concluded that whatever scared them and made them call me Grimm had something to do with my eyes.

Throughout that year, I kept to myself and distanced myself from those who evoked my homicidal inclinations. The doctors prescribed medication, but I was both fortunate and unfortunate – drugs held no sway over me.

After a year, I got discharged, and now three months have passed. The headaches have intensified, and last night I passed out from the pain.

So, that pretty much sums up my life. Now, I'll take a shower, grab a bite to eat, and go job hunting.