Everyone has a name... don't they?

Well, I don't. I don't even have parents. I know my father, but I wish I didn't. My foster mother calls me Tamora, because 'it suits me'. In my opinion, I don't think there's a name on this earth that would suit me. Except maybe 'boring' if it were a name.
I always avoid the question "What's your name?" because I'll just look like an idiot if I try to answer.
One time, a friendly social worker asked me, and I plainly stated 'I don't have one,’ She smiled a little, but she soon realised I wasn't joking. She must have told the other social workers, because none of them came near me after that.
Hm. Afar. That suits me. Everyone stares at me from afar, I stay as far away from everyone as possible, everything about me is far away. My straggly blonde hair is hardly ever neat, and my dark eyes are always staring out of the nearest window, because ANYTHING is better than the dull, boring classroom I was sitting in, with its headachey fluorescent lights and unsteady desks that had obscene words written all over it.
If hell had a name, it would be Oxford High.
But then things finally got interesting.
I was walking up our driveway, when I heard a scream. My eyes widened, and I ran up the gravel path. God, why was I such a slow runner?
I practically threw the door off its hinges when I ran into the house. The first thing I noticed was that there was a small bloodstain on the wall. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
What I didn't expect, however, was for my dad to come walking through the door to the lounge room. He walked with a slouch, his black hair always in disarray. His wide, dark eyes, so much like mine, promised something sinister. He wore a black shirt and baggy blue jeans, and he wore no shoes.
I'd heard that he went by the name Beyond, and sometimes called himself Rue Ryuzaki. I also knew that he'd murdered 3 people in Los Angeles, before he'd been arrested. I thought he'd died in jail, but, apparently, he hadn't.
BB smiled at me and walked over to the door.
'Good to see you again,' he said to me, before simply opening the door and walking down the street, where he stopped and gave me another sinister grin.
In a weird, horrible, sick, twisted way, I was proud to have BB as my dad. But I was certain to succeed in something he had tried to do, but had failed...

I would give L a case he wouldn't be able to solve.

From that moment on, I became known as Nefarious. And I certainly lived up to my name.