Soulless

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

The Devil loved broken things. He never fixed them, and never took pity on them. They were decorations for him, portraits of his success to hang on the lavish walls of hell.

The Devil loved broken things, which is why he started trading for souls again. The people so ready to give up, so desperate that they would want to rid themselves of the very thing that made them human--they were the ones he bought from. There was no shortage of them, especially when one knew where to look.

She had been hurting so much, constant disappointment had prodded at her brain, tears had always been pressed against her eyelids. She had felt unfixable and the devil had known.

He appeared at exactly one in the morning, when every noise seemed unnaturally loud, and when the quiet was an unbeatable adversary instead of a calming friend. With hands resting in the pockets of a lavish silver suit, he didn't resemble anyone except a carefree business owner. Over his left breast pocket was a purple "My name is" sticker, with "The Devil" written underneath in tall cursive letters. It was impossible to pinpoint his features because, somehow, they seemed to change every time she looked.

"I know what you're feeling," he had whispered, with a low, silky voice. "Do you want to rid yourself of it all?" He stared while she hesitated, glowing gold eyes rimmed with the black piercing through her.

Maybe fear had clouded her judgement, or maybe she had just stopped caring what people could do to her. She looked down at the shadowed floor. What was the worst this stranger could do to her? 

"Yes." Her voice was soft, barely louder than her shaking breath.

He had smiled kindly, nodded and extended a hand, palm up. A fountain pen popped into existence, along with a sheet of paper with paragraphs of fine print, and one dark blank line along the bottom. "Sign Here," it stated, in stark black letters. She grabbed the pen and scratched out her name, ignoring the words above.

His eyes began glowing, the gold burning, the black darkening like an evening sky, and stared into hers with such ferocity and malice that she wanted to take a step back--tried to take a step back-- but couldn't.

And then something had left her, and every ounce of pain she had disappeared. There was a burning on her wrist, and when she looked down she saw a white ribcage seared into her skin. The Devil smiled, showed the girl a dark, swirling cloud of smoke hovering over his palm. Black and dark blue chased each other hurriedly, as the globe strained toward her.

Then, suddenly, he disappeared and all that was left was the faint smell of smoke, and a very, very numb girl.