Don’t laugh. I made a delirious decision, and I was far too flippant about the price tag. It’s not death that I dread, as such. I fear the bottomless pit that death precedes.

My wife became sick in October, and there wasn’t enough money or medicine in the world to save her. We were simply enjoying what time we had left. However, about a week ago, my oldest friend proposed a sickening solution. Larry always has a solution, but it’s not often a good one. He told me about SoulSell. It’s a company that facilitates the conveyance of your soul’s title to the Devil.

“Very funny,” I said.

“I’m serious, Zane. You need help right now, and the guy downstairs can make anything happen,” Larry said.

“I don’t think I could afford the Devil’s prices in this market,” I joked.

“He doesn’t charge money,” Larry replied.

“No? Then how would I repay the debt and reclaim my soul?” I asked. “What passes as currency in Hell?”

“How the fuck should I know? This all came from the mouth of Tony,” Larry said, shrugging.

“Well, I just Googled them,” I interjected. “Nothing about SoulSell online.”

Larry facepalmed. “You’re so fucking dumb sometimes. Did you know that? They’re obviously not flaunting their services publicly. Are you even taking me seriously? I thought you believed in this shit.”

“Of course I do,” I solemnly replied. “You know I do. I believe the Devil exists.”

“Right, so what’s the big deal?” Larry asked.

I shrugged. “Hope is a dangerous thing. I think I just have to accept the shitty hand I’ve been dealt.”

“Fuck that. Look, let me text Tony for you. He’ll give you some details,” Larry said.

Before I could protest, Larry had messaged his friend, and I received a text from an anonymous number only a few minutes later. My friend nodded at my phone, which was sitting on the bar counter, and I begrudgingly picked it up. I hadn’t planned on doing anything rash, but things slipped away from me.

Hi, Zane. So sorry to hear about Natalie. I work for SoulSell. I don’t think Larry explained that part. I can tell you how this works. I’ll even put together a fair plan for you.

Best,

Anthony

Thanks, Anthony. How much will this cost?

In terms of money? Nothing. It’ll cost you everything else, though. It’s not a permanent transfer of ownership, but the road to reclaiming your soul isn’t an easy one. Do you believe in the Devil?

I do, but I don’t know whether I believe in the validity of your service.

You will. Are you on board?

Well, Natalie doesn’t exactly have any other options, so I might as well give it a shot. What do I have to do?

It’s already done, Zane. Have a good day.

I wasn’t sure what to make of such an ominous reply. I’ve never been a Christian or a Satanist, but I believe that there are things we don’t understand in this world. And that was certainly the case when Natalie and I visited the doctor two days later.

“I’m not really sure how to explain this,” The doctor said. “As I told you a couple of months ago, your condition was untreatable. Incurable. But your recent scans show no trace of it. All I can assume is that we misdiagnosed you, Natalie. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you apologising for giving me the best news of my life?” She laughed.

Natalie jubilantly sobbed and tightly embraced me. Meanwhile, I was locking eyes with the incredulous doctor. I could only think of one explanation. A wave of fear flooded my body. What had I done? It was such a conflicting feeling. I was euphoric about my wife’s well-being but terrified of what it confirmed.

The Devil was real, and he owned my soul.

Suddenly, the hospital was plunged into a world of silence. My tearful wife stiffened, as did the doctor sitting opposite us. I sharply inhaled, overcome by terror.

“Hello, Zane.”

The wispy whisper billowed against the windowpane, so I rose to my feet. The sourceless voice was neither warm nor cold. Certainly not human. Looking out of the window, the entire world seemed to have stopped moving. Cars, birds, trees, and people. Everything was stuck in a ceaseless stasis. Everything but the sky.

It was noon, but the golden sun and dazzlingly-white clouds were starting to sour. This was not the arrival of night. It was something far darker than darkness.

Lucifer.

“To pay your debt, balance must be restored,” The Devil whispered.

A face started to form in the sky. Something unfit for the human gaze. The eyes were horrid holes. Inexplicably infinite. To stare into them was enough to evoke madness. To fall into them, I imagine, would be an eternal torture too horrifying to fathom.

“Your first repayment will be a heart,” The Devil explained.

The doctor unfroze. Upon seeing that time had stopped, she screamed. And when she looked out of her window to see hellish black eyes in the sky, she unleashed a louder wail.

Incessantly inhaling, to the point of fainting, the doctor started to claw at her neck, seemingly unable to exhale. I watched helplessly as she flailed around, bumping into her desk. Then, a series of cracking noises erupted from her torso. She cried breathlessly. Bone by bone, her ribcage was starting to snap.

Terrified, I understood what was happening. The doctor keeled forwards, clutching the lump that was beginning to protrude from her chest. In a devilish display, her still-beating heart emerged through broken ribs, torn flesh, and a hole in her bloodied white shirt.

The doctor collapsed into the pool of her quickly-congealing blood. Though I wasn’t frozen in time, I could barely move. I could barely think. Words eventually slithered from my mouth.

“How do I explain this scene?” I asked.

At that moment, the ceiling above the doctor caved inwards. I screamed as she was entombed in the avalanche of tiles and assorted medical equipment from the floor above. Both Natalie and I were unscathed, physically.

“The next repayment will be costlier for you,” The Devil promised.

Before I had a chance to ask what the creature of Hell meant, the natural flow of time resumed. My wife screamed at the sight of the rubble atop her doctor. She was mostly perplexed as to how she hadn’t seen it tumble through the ceiling. I’m not even sure whether she also noticed that I had suddenly left my chair.

Throughout this entire ordeal, which has truly traumatised Natalie, I haven’t been able to focus on anything. I haven’t been able to eat or sleep properly.

I’m watching and waiting. Every time my wife slows her movements, I stifle a scream.

I fear the next time-stop. I don’t want to know what else might constitute “repayment” in the Devil’s eyes. Will I ever fully pay off my mortgaged soul?

What will he claim next?

X