Born Under a Bad Moon

My grandmother always said I was born under a bad moon. Every time she visited me she would give me some sort of trinket to ward off the evil she said surrounded me. It shamed me but I did not have the strength to tell her I liked the evil. I liked the feel of it as it wrapped itself around me and made my heart pound with desire for all the things I knew were bad. The boys, the clothes, the drinks. My face would burn with shame every time I saw her and she clicked her tongue at me, but I never once stopped enjoying that feeling of bad. I never once thought about the pain I brought my family. I only ever thought of myself and now years later the shame of what I did still causes my face to flame and my hands to tremble.