Angel-boy couldn’t convert me with his promises of luxury and glamor. A pampered slave is still a slave, and I had enough things trying to control my life. Drugs, booze, sex: I had no qualms about doing too much, often simultaneously.
mind my tendency to sin – liked it, in fact – but he detailed exactly
what I’d done to my body in an attempt to escape its confines. There was
no simplistic suggestion of rehab from heaven’s pretty demon. Instead,
he offered what I wanted most: infinite capacity to recover.
It was a sucker deal, but I took it.