The chair was too stiff for me, but I dared not move.
Behind me, the shouts of hundreds demanded I be condemned. "Whore!" one of them cried, another "Liar and trickster!" The words stung, in part because they were true.
A gavel pounded down, barely silencing the angry crowd. I looked up only with my eyes, and saw Satan, beautiful with temptation and terrifying with sin, looking down upon me.
He smiled, and it was cruel. I knew my time had come. I could do nothing to save myself. What I had done could not be erased. I looked down at my hands, both resting lifelessly on my lap. They were covered with dirt and blood, the form of my sin made real on the hands of the one who committed them. They were heavy, and I could barely move under the weight of my sin.
Though I had no mirror, I knew I was bloodied and made dirty with every sin. Even my face