The flames were already being prepared when I arrived at my family's private compound in Riyadh. I could see the workers building the massive fire pit in the center courtyard, stacking wood and dousing it with accelerant. The acrid smell of gasoline mixed with the desert heat made me nauseous. My hands trembled as I was escorted from the black SUV by two of my father's security guards, their grip on my arms firm and unyielding. I knew what awaited me. I had been caught with the forbidden book, and in my family, in our interpretation of Islamic law, there was only one punishment for apostasy: death by fire.
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