My father pushed open the door to my bedroom, allowing the light to leak inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, and when they did, her troubled face came into view. I’d been sitting in my dark room all day, avoiding the inevitable.
“It’s time,” she announced with resignation.
My gaze swept over the hard lines around her eyes—from years of worrying—then at her tearstained cheeks, but what stood out most of all was the red crescent moon tattoo on her forehead.
The symbol of a devil’s slave. The symbol of my future.
Nodding, I lifted myself off my bed, with heavy limbs, and an even heavier heart. My father stepped to the side as I passed her, and made my way out into the living room.
Camsey, my younger brother, sat on the couch, staring at the smooth pla
