Siratrem
Eve is eighteen and she made a mistake.
She can't really remember a lot of that night, but she remembers a boy. She remembers alcohol. And she remembers making a promise.
Then there was that pesky demon. It climbed into her head and it's made itself quite at home. It'll leave, it says, as soon as she honours their deal.
It's a game, it says. She needs twenty-six men. A to Z. Then, it'll go, and she'll be free to live her life as she chooses.
If she survives.