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Summary
Do you think about it, as I do, how there is not a single part of me that your hands have not touched? This body I have that you hate so much, it is the body you know best in the world. It was your hands, bare and bloody, your sleeves rolled up to the elbow, that nestled my heart in my breast. These hands here, these were the hands that gave me these limbs. You stitched your own doom into my tendons, Frankenstein, I am the end that you made for yourself.