Possible beginning to PERDITION

This was me trying to think of a creative way to introduce Eroklin in the story Perdition.

He was cold as the rain fell softly on his face.  There was so many reasons to be sad, so many reasons to hate himself. And he did.  He never let anyone know how he really felt about himself. He was whom they wanted, and because of it he was never really anyone. He failed.  At everything that he really thought he was good at he was reminded that he knew nothing really.  That he was new. That he was old. That new was not what was wanted. That he had not reached the mark. Neither good nor bad wanted him on their side. Apathy. He did not feel as he used to. He had filled his mind with venom and hatred to forget everything that was good, everything that had blessed his life.  And he cried as the ghost of good finally abandoned him.  He had trespassed a law that he could not keep.  He had fallen so far that his mother blinked recognition at his visage.  His heart beat for love, but his mind knew it would never come. That it would only be a lie, one that he refused to tell because if he did, then the pain of a hundred deaths would weigh on his soul.  Where do you stand when your reasoning has left you without a foothold on the side of a cliff.  How long can you cling onto the edge of the rocks, til your bloody fingers slip? The soothing rain washed the path that the tears had abandoned and left dirty.   He had never learned how to get back once lost.  He was never supposed to have been lost.  He was found, he was once safe, but with one push he was thrust into this maddened sea of perdition.  He had lost his name.  He was nameless.  He is what they make him to be. He is their god and nameless is his name. Shame is his wake, and death his guiding light.  And the power he invoked was that of the men he had killed and the women who in a scared whispered gave power to his name. Eroklin. Perdition. God. Devil. The one of power.  Joseph no more.  A man no more.  A beast that fed on the flesh of his people.  A god respected and feared.  A man who gorged and pleasured himself on destroying the virtue of life.  This man was Eroklin, this was their perdition on that small dark island.  This was the man who had at one time partaken only of the flesh of Christ. The Eucharist was once his lifeline.  Now he could not remember the taste of that stale cracker, nor the bitter wine that accompanied it.  Joseph had died the day he had stepped foot on this damned island.