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FLASHBACK
The young woman, with hair down to her waist in thick, shiny waves, and eyes as desperate as can be, clutched the chalk in her hands she used to form the markings and symbols on the wood floor, staring up at the dark figure in the pentagram before her.
His expression was sinister, but she, for some reason, was not afraid. It was like her mind was drunk, or high. She saw the sinister smile as charming, smiling back in return.
“The soul inside you,” he purred, leaning down, resting his skeleton-like hand on her belly. “That is the price for what you seek. That is what you must pay to achieve the fame and fortune you so desire.”
Did she want fame and fortune? She did, but not as badly as she wanted to beat the man that broke her heart, making it big without him by her
