The ego of a seventeen year old is more fragile than a bubble close to bursting. I was no exception. I still remember the buzz in the air and the chatter at lockers. Prom proposals were a spectacle I couldn’t escape.

Sybil stabbed her nail into the soft flesh of the satyr’s lower stomach and traced a red line that reached above his navel. He screamed and thrashed but his limbs remained fastened to the altar.