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“I still pictured my interior just the same as any other sixteen-year-old girl's. Blood, guts and bones. A brain, and a functioning heart. Hopes and dreams, feras and sorrow. They could tell me the truth, but they couldn't force me to accept it.” — Debra Drize
I still pictured my interior just the same as any other sixteen-year-old girl's. Blood, guts and bones. A brain, and a functioning heart. Hopes and dreams, feras and sorrow. They could tell me the truth, but they couldn't force me to accept it.