The rope was so tight it cut into my wrists, and the whole village stood there watching me die. My own father couldn’t look me in the eye. My mother’s face was stone. My beautiful sister was the…
The wind tears at Ophelia’s hair, whipping long chestnut strands across her face. Her wrists burn where rough hemp rope bites into her skin, binding her to the ancient stone altar that has drunk the fear of countless girls before her. They’d all struggled. Ophelia doesn’t. There would be no point. Even if she could … Read more