Jane despised her scars: the burns, the stab wounds, every blemish. They marred her once-tawny skin, etched like permanent tattoos of her past failures.

Facing the mirror, a nemesis she couldn't escape, she lingered, drowning in self-recrimination. You could sense the tumult of thoughts within her.

"Is this my punishment for simply being human?" she whispered, her face hidden behind a blank, white mask.