Sometimes, I think of myself as an outsider. The little girl on the outside looking in. When she opens her jacket, you see straight through to her core. Her heart working spontaneously with bits of machinery and around open wounds. She has scars on the outside. The worst kind. You can see them on her arms, and scrapes on her face. She's a foreigner to most worlds that don't understand that she's a destructive force of unknown nature. She's a beast. An animal on the inside. Rainsford was right. Some animals can reason. She can manipulate the wildest creatures.....The glass has broken, her life has crumbled. All with the weight of a speck of dust that feel like mountains towering on her shoulders. Her vicious tongue like a rattlesnake, fighting words against her own. That's me. I'm an outsider. The girl on the outside looking in.