There are no words that could describe how it feels when I pass by a mirror. Every single scar reminds me of the life I used to live. Painful reminders of the ones I have hurt and the ones who have hurt me. Though they’ve grown fainter over the years, I have never forgotten how they came to be. The ones underneath my shirt have yet to fade and stay as reminders of experimentations that occurred long ago. I will never be able to get past what has happened to me but I have tried to make use of it. Power came from those scars and I had to choose how to use that power. I tried to help others with them, but that plan failed once I learned that I cannot fully control it. When I look in the mirror, I see many things. Sometimes it’s a man who has failed. Sometimes it’s a child who has had everything ripped away from him. I feel sure that the monster created by a mad doctor will one day come out again, and wreak havoc that we cannot yet comprehend. Until that day comes, I am stuck looking in the mirror and waiting for him to come out and destroy me once again.