THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT

Chapter 1: Memories Within Me The night was colder than usual. 8 p.m. — the streets half asleep, the moon hiding behind restless clouds. Cera walked alone, her black coat fluttering in the wind, her gloved hands stained with blood that had already started to dry. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t feel pain. Pain had long stopped meaning anything. They called her the Goddess of Death, the silent assistant of the Night Gang. Eighteen years old, yet her eyes carried a lifetime of ghosts. As her boots tapped against the empty street, her gaze fell on a young boy crying by a lamppost, clutching his teddy bear. Strangers bent down, whispering softly — “It’s alright, your parents will find you soon.” Their warmth, their gentle touch — it made something twist inside her chest. Are those emotions real? she wondered. Does love truly exist? Not for me… maybe never. The street blurred, fading into the corners of her mind, and once again, she was that little girl — lost and trembling under the same cold sky. --- She remembered that night clearly. People told her, “Don’t cry, sweetheart, your parents will come.” But she knew the truth. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father drowned himself in alcohol and men. At seven, she was sent to Saint Alvara’s Orphanage, a place filled with broken laughter and forced prayers. There she met Miss Maria, a nun with warm eyes who told her, “You are not forgotten, child. Even the smallest stars are seen by God.” Miss Maria was the only one who ever brushed her hair gently, or wrapped her arms around her when nightmares came. For the first time, Cera believed she could be loved. But childhood kindness rarely lasts forever. --- By the time she turned nine, she made her first friend — or at least she thought she did. Hena. Pretty, confident, always surrounded by others. She made Cera feel included — at first. “Cera, could you finish my homework? You’re better at writing,” Hena would say with a smile. Then it became, “Cera, go do the laundry. The boys will notice if my uniform smells.” And finally, “Cera, wake up early tomorrow and book us seats for lunch, okay? You’re good at waiting.” Cera did everything. Homework, laundry, errands. She called it friendship. But they called it convenience. Whenever she tried to sit beside them, they would giggle, whisper, and slide away. Hena’s voice still echoed in her memory: “You’re too quiet, Cera. No wonder no one wants to talk to you.” That night, she looked at her reflection and finally realized— it wasn’t friendship. It was bullying dressed as kindness. And she had been too desperate for love to see it. --- At eleven, Miss Maria fell ill. Cera spent every night beside her bed, holding her hand, praying silently that God would not take her away. But prayers never worked for Cera. The morning Miss Maria died, Cera stopped praying altogether. Her heart turned quiet — not empty, just tired. For seven months, she moved through life like a shadow. Until a man with soft brown eyes walked into the orphanage. William. Twenty-three years old, kind, gentle, and smiling like the sun she thought she’d never see again. He adopted her when she was twelve. And for the first time in her life, she felt something close to peace. Maybe this was what family felt like. Maybe she was finally allowed to be loved. But Cera should have known by then — every time she reached for happiness, fate reached back and took it away. --- Next Chapter Trailer The night the devil was born. William’s blood on the ground. Her hands trembling, then steadying. A scream lost in the dark. “Brother, please... wake up.” Thirteen-year-old Cera picked up the knife. She didn’t cry She just whispered, “If love dies... so does mercy.” Someone watched her that night — and smiled. The world thought an innocent girl had lost everything. But the truth was simpler. That night... the devil opened her eyes. ---