I will never be the same. I will never be the Cathy I used to be. She’s gone. And in her stead, there’s me. The leftover. The burnt ruins. I’m a woman with so many inner scars that Dorian Gray’s twisted reflection could be mine. But they are my scars. My hellish reminders. They make me who I am, who I’m left to live life with. And I would never change that.
