One day, a couple of years maybe, I gave up all hope.
I did something I don't think about enough to regret; or rather can't care enough to regret.
I sold my soul to the Devil.
Now, I know what you are all thinking:
Are you crazy? Are you stupid? Why would you do that? Blah, blah, blah.
Wanna know what I sold it for?
I sold it to the Devil so that he would cure me of my mental illnesses. Trust me, being soulless is better that being suicidal and having depression.
But anyway, a few weeks ago I was sitting in my favourite café drinking some coffee, scrolling through Tumblr, when I was distracted by the glass doors of the café slamming open. Bearing in mind that I was sitting in the corner table of the café closest to the doors, I was slightly startled.
The person who slammed said doors was male with blondish hair, wearing washed-out jeans, a beige t-shirt and a brown shirt.
As I looked him up and down, I realised with a twinge of fear that it was him: the Devil.
When our eyes met, he squinted them.
"You!" he shouted accusingly. "I have been looking for you for ages. I am exhausted. My father, you are hard to find!"
I became fully aware that we were getting a lot of attention from the people inside the café and everyone outside who just happened to be passing by had stopped to watch. God the Devil is a drama queen.
"I searched everywhere! Not kidding! I tried every tracking spell, traded souls for information and tracked down every bloody 'lead'" he made quotation marks with his fingers, "and the only way that I found you was from a postcard I found that you had sent months ago to rub in my face!"
Crap.
I should probably explain the postcard thing. After I had become soulless, I bumped into a friendly yet powerful witch who placed all kinds of protective witchy-juju on me so that I couldn't be tracked or harmed in anyway. A few months later she contacted me to say that someone was trying to track me, when I asked her who, she said- and I quote- "Oh, no one, just the freaking Devil". So yeah, I sent him a post card from halfway around the world and wrote "Catch me if you can" on the back. And I admit the postcard thing was a bit much, but hey, I'm soulless; I'm supposed to be cocky and not care about the consequences.
All I did in response to him was raise my eyebrows barely. "And?" I asked in an uninterested tone.
He stomped up to me, almost as you'd expect a toddler to when they're not getting their way.
"Don't you 'and' me!" he shouted, in a scolding voice that cracked me up I might add.
"I'm in so much shit right now!"
He got closer, eyes now red.
"Are you now?" I answered with a heavily sarcastic voice.
He grabbed the shoulder of my coat and, what I'm sure there's a technical term for but I like to describe it as, whooshed to what seemed to be a dingy motel bedroom.
They're was a made single bed with a bedside table to the left hand side of it; there was a desk opposite the foot of the bed with a few pieces of paper on it; to the left of the desk was the kitchen and to the right of it was the bathroom.
He suddenly began rummaging through various bags, obviously looking for something.
After several long minutes of pulling random objects out of bags, throwing them behind him and mumbling things to himself, like "Where is it? If only I could remember where I put it," he finally stopped, leaving his many odd possessions strewn all over the floor, and stood up.
A blinding light filled the room, and, as he turned around, I could see the emitter of said light was in his hands. He was holding it gently, as if it were delicate. He then threw it towards me.
"Take it," was all he said.
It only then occurred to me that this strange, bright thing was my soul.
I was speechless.
I furrowed my brows. "But what about the-the, um-"
"They won't come back, I made sure of that," he explained.
If it wasn't for the fact that my soul being in such a close proximity to me, slightly affecting the whole soulless thing, I would have been a lot more cautious. The Devil doesn't just go round giving back people's souls without a price.
"Are you sure?" I asked again.
"Yes."
Good, because I would rather have no feelings at all than have that darkness resurface.
"Why?" was all I could seem to manage.
He rushed over to me. "I need a favour."