Self-Made

Age: 0

His first memory was of floating in warm, comforting blackness.

His second memory was of being unceremoniously pushed out of weightless/sleeping/tranquil and dropping into stretched/rough/dry as his eyes were bombarded with bright/haze/painful.

The window-shaking volume at which he expressed his displeasure didn't actually manage to secure a spot among his early recollections, which was probably for the best.

Being unaccustomed to light was similarly fortuitous, as it caused him to keep his eyes shut for a long time, rather than lay open eyes upon tired-stout-smiling or large-hairy-laughing. His first memories of Mother and Not-Father would have been far less innocent than the recall of warm, happy but bitter-sweet voices if he'd been able to look at them from the start. He always did see too much of transience and how to speed it up, once his sight got accustomed to not-first-home.

Not that it allowed his recollection of his birth to be a particularly happy one even then, considering that he'd just lived through the murder of his safety and tranquillity.

Years later, he would be able to put a name to his emotion at the time and recognise it as indignation.