I was an in-demand artist who turned her body into a canvas. Put a price on my pleasure and performed. I crossed the threshold between privacy and publicity; lifted myself onto the altar for examination. Like a sacrificial lamb, I'll be bled for my choice. Like Lucifer or Icarus, I'll be blamed for my downfall. For wanting to see power in pleasure and pain. Not the first angel to fall, not the last to be demonized. But I'll be damned if I don't write my name over the devil's tongue and make him call me his.