You were a monster. That’s what you told yourself. How could you not be? You were a fucked up amalgamation of at least a dozen people’s body parts, all stitched together. The only part of you that was actually yourself was your brain and your right eye, which was brown while the left was blue.

But Johnny didn’t think so. He cupped your face in his hands, his fingers running through a mess of blonde, red, and brown hair, a stitched together mess of scalp.

“You’re beautiful..” Johnny whispers.