In the Name of Love, I Worshipped the Devil

Everyone said Micah Abbott was like a saint—untouched, unattached, above worldly temptations.

I sold my soul to possess his heart.

On his birthday, I knelt on a floor covered in broken glass just to tie his shoes. When he had a stomach flare-up, I carried his full-grown ass up eighteen flights of stairs. I broke two ribs and didn’t even cry.

He became my husband, but in eight years of marriage, he never touched even the tip of my finger. “It’s against my values,” he said.