Part 3: Blood on Her Hands

The sun sinking behind the mountains let out one final burst of golden glory and turned the clouds a fiery pink. These eruptions of evening colors used to soothe me but now they make my heart sink.

Oh, god…

Does that count as a prayer? If it did, it wasn’t working. The nightmares still came every time the sun went down and I had barely slept in two weeks. I turned to take another look at this beautiful scene, hoping that this lingering glance might console me the way it once did.

I nodded off for a second and jerking awake I accidentally banged the keyboard and made the sunset disappear. Google’s blaring white homepage replaced it.

I rubbed my eyes, shut my laptop and stared at the empty wall behind it.

I resisted sleep for as long as I could because I knew they were waiting for me in my dreams. Lately though, they were escaping the bounds of my sleeping head and began to play around my apartment in the night. There was a tapping on my walls which may have been nothing, but lately there seemed to be a demon lurking behind everything out of the ordinary.

The next morning, I awoke with my room in a mess. Again, it may have been nothing-my room is always a mess-but this was a different mess. My dirty clothes pile was definitely on the other side of the room last night.

I sat up and set my feet on the floor. I sunk my face into my hands and sighed.

Another day another dollar.

Well, technically, that wasn’t true anymore. I lost my job the second time they caught me sleeping. I tried to look at the bright side of things: that left me plenty of time during the day to dread the coming night. Also, I had plenty of time to read Jackie’s book.

There was a cross on its worn cover. I thought it was an old Bible but when I opened it up all the print was upside down, either that or the cover was upside down. Anyways, it wasn’t a Bible. Not the Bible, although it was filled with very old sounding prose and the words felt heavy with age and secret wisdom.  I’d been reading it faithfully and attending the meetings for almost a week now. Jackie was right. Things were getting worse, if for no other reason than my lack of sleep due to the nightmares.

 I grabbed my fake Bible from off the nightstand and walked out the door.

 I didn’t bother to change my clothes, shave or even brush my teeth. I had begun sleeping in my clothes and as for brushing my teeth and shaving… why bother? I didn’t have the energy to spare and who was I going to see today that cared anyways? The rest of the people at Possessed Anonymous were just as sloppy as I was.

I trudged to my car and collapsed in the seat. My fingers stumbled around for the handle on the glove compartment. I heard the happy click which revealed my stash of candy bars. Breakfast.

 I chewed, stared out the windshield and figured. The sugar high should last long enough to get me to the highway. The city streets required reading signs, braking quickly and avoiding pedestrians but the highway needed me only to follow its gentle curves leading me right to the heart of the downtown area.

I only nodded off a few times on the way. Off the exit I took the first parking spot I could and got some coffee to stay awake. Caffeine wasn’t lighting up my brain the way it used to. Oh well, it would do for now. I settled into a park bench and fingered the pages to find today’s reading.

 I really hoped there was a chapter on how to get rid of nightmares, but if there was, I hadn’t gotten there yet and Jackie gave me strict instructions NOT to read ahead. Instead, he said that when I finish the required reading for the day I was to read it again and then as many times as I could until the meeting that night. He started having me come in early to the meetings so we could talk about the book and the progress I was making. According to him, I was making great progress. I wanted to know what he meant because I didn’t see it. My nightmares were still tormenting me and I had lost my job and maybe soon my apartment. He said it would become clear the deeper I studied. So I kept on studying, every day. Several hours a day. The script was tiny and the language was dense, like the King James Bible. Reading it was like gnawing on really chewy meat. By the time you wore it down, you were almost too exhausted to swallow it.

I made it through a page or two before my body revolted against my will and fell asleep. I must have been on that bench for an hour or two with people staring at me asleep, unshaven and drooling on myself. I hope they at least saw my book. Then they would know at least I fell asleep reading, instead of passing out drunk. Like they cared anyways.

I woke up when a police officer poked my shoulder with his nightstick. I wouldn’t have touched me either.

“Sir? Excuse me sir.”

 It took me a second to realize where I was.

“Son, you’re welcome stay on he bench but you can’t sleep there.”

“Oh, uhh…Sorry. I’m not homeless-not yet anyways, haha.”

I looked up to his face but it was stoic. He probably didn’t like having to tell homeless people they weren’t allowed to be seen sleeping in public. That’s what I assumed he thought I was.

“No, really, I’m not homeless. See, I got this book I’m supposed to read but it’s almost impossible to read when you’re sleep deprived, y’know, it’s like, as soon as you open the page you start nodding off but I have to read if I want to start sleeping again because I can’t now because of the nightmares I’ve been getting since I was possessed.”

A look of fatherly concern softened his hard features. He seemed to finally understand my situation.

“Repossessed? Your home got repossessed?”

He pulled out a business card from his shirt pocket and started writing something on the back of it.

“Keep your head up son, you’ll be on your feet soon enough. I’m going to give you the number for a resource agency in town that helps folks in financial distress, especially when it comes to forclosures and repossessions, I bet they could help you-“

 “No, not repossessed ” I   interrupted, “ possessed, like, by the Devil. It explains it all in the book.”

He clicked the pen and slipped it back in his pocket. He looked really concerned now.

God, I sound crazy.

“Look, I know, it sounds crazy. I thought the contract was a joke at first but I had to sign it in blood and the other people at Possessed Anonymous all had the same thing happen to them. It’s uhhh…”

The more I talked the less I made sense. The warmth in the officers eyes disappeared as he put on his is hardboiled cop face again. For a second, he must have thought I was just some poor kid down on his luck, one of the few he could still reach. After my babbling insistence on being possessed he saw that I was just another one of the crazies. In a few years I’d have a beard and walk the streets all day talking loud and angry to invisible people.

He told me to move along and so I bent over to grab the book from the concrete where I dropped it and stumbled away.

I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked down the sidewalk. I didn’t want to talk to any of the faces walking by and I’m pretty sure they didn’t want to talk to me either. They looked at me like I was a beggar. I probably did look like a beggar by then. If only they knew I was engaged in a war, a war for my soul. If only they knew there were deeper layers of the world than they saw in their little jobs and their little commutes and their families and happiness. Ordinaries, I called them.

A voice from behind interrupted my reverie.

“Juan!”

I perked up. It was a girl’s voice. Calling my name.

Maybe I should have brushed my teeth.

I turned around like a dog expecting a treat. Then my stomach dropped. It was Lucy. I turned back around and doubled my pace, head down and hands in my pockets. My heart started pumping hard and I felt the same rush of adrenaline that I felt when we first met. I kept walking and tried not to fall from off my wobbly knees. I hoped she didn’t bring a knife this time.

Jackie’s warning echoed in my head.

“Not a word Juan.”

No, no! I promise.

Not a word, not a word, not a word…

“Juan!” I heard the click of heels behind me speed up.

Not a word, not a word, not a word...

She finally reached me but I kept looking down and walking. I saw her sharp red high heels beside me.

“She’s from the Devil, okay!”

“Juan! Look at me.”

I resisted, but her sweet scent caught my nose like a hook and began pulling my face to her.

No, Juan! No! Remember what Jackie said.

 For a few moments, we walked together in silence, except for the clicks of her heels.

“What did Jackie tell you?” She demanded.

“How do you know Jackie?!”

Dammit!

“God! You’re easy.”

She laughed for a second and I mentally slapped myself for letting her pick my lock so quickly.

“Jackie and I go way back. It seems like way back anyways, forty souls ago.”

She paused and stooped her head playfully to meet my eyes.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I mean?”

Actually, I was. I hated that she knew.

She continued on.

“Almost two years ago, I met a great guy. I had dated too many ‘bad boys’and was just done with men-then I met Jackie. He was the first guy I met who didn’t talk all over me, like I was the grateful audience of his massive ego’s stories. He actually listened to me. Just…very sweet. Kind of like you.”

She smiled at me. If she picked my lock before, she completely melted it then. I hated that her words felt so good. I hated that I was so defenseless against her.

She let the words seep in and continued on.

“When you’re in love, you can endure things you would never imagine and follow your love anywhere, even to hell. I don’t know when they turned Jackie. It might have been even before we met. That would hurt the most, because then I would have been nothing but another soul to him. Things started getting strange about nine months in.  He started asking me if I believed in the Devil and what happens after we die. One night we were at my place and he seemed super depressed. I didn’t want to let him go home alone because I was afraid he’d kill himself so we just stayed on couch talking. He kept saying how life is pointless. My heart was breaking for him but he just wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Finally he asked me if I loved him. I told him that of course I loved him.”

“I loved him more than the whole world, Juan.”

She wiped here eyes.

“He asked if I would do anything for him. I said yes and I really would have. And I did. He pulled out piece of paper from his pocket and said, ‘let’s be together forever’. He laid it on my knee. I was scared, but like I said, I would have done anything for him. He cradled my hand kissed it. He pulled it close and grabbed a small razor from his shirt and pressed it into my finger until it bled. The pain was nothing to me because I thought it meant he would suffer less. He brought my finger to the paper on my knee and smeared the blood on it.”

She took a long breath. It seemed like she was telling the story to herself more than anyone else. She turned to me again.

“Sound familiar?”

My breathe gave out. Jackie was my strong tower, but she blew just a few words on it and it nearly fell over

“No...”

“ ‘No’ it doesn’t sound familiar? ‘No’, you don’t believe Jackie’s actually the one ensnaring people?”

Once again I had no words for her.

“I tried to call him after that night, but his phone had been disconnected. I was having these insane nightmares too. I was deathly afraid for him. I thought he did kill himself.  I wanted to look for him but in the nine months we were together we never went to his place so I had no idea where to start. He was always kind of secretive. I guess that’s why I was drawn to him. I wanted to help him stop hiding. I thought he was sort of a wounded puppy afraid to share himself, but now I know he was keeping things from me on purpose. After a week of torture not knowing what happened to him, I saw him.

 No, it was more like he ambushed me. He was standing in the doorway of a dumpy building.  I ran to him and tried to hug him but he grabbed me and jerked me into the building. It was dark and it smelled bad and Jackie was totally different.

The first thing he said to me was ‘sit down’ and I did. I tried to ask him what happened but he cut me off by pulling out the paper from that night. ‘This is a contract. The terms are eternal. Your soul is mine.’

This guy was not like Jackie at all. I mean, he looked like Jackie and everything, but it’s like the personality he used with me was a mask and he wasn’t wearing it anymore.

Even though the paper was the same one from that night, it didn’t make sense. I started to think he was going to kidnap me so jumped up from the chair and tried to run out the door but a hand came from nowhere and grabbed my ankle and I fell to the ground. I started kicking with my other leg but more hands just grabbed my leg and they started dragging me back. I thought it was Jackie but there were way too many hands. When I looked over my shoulder he was still standing there and these dark little monsters were dragging me to the back of the rom. The wall they were dragging me to opened up like a secret door to hell. That’s what it was Juan, Hell. I was never so scared in my life. I felt like a rabbit caught in a trap, like whatever was dragging me back was going to eat me alive. I screamed and I heard a million people scream back from that place. I tried clawing the ground but it was like hot coals and I only scrambled them up and couldn’t get a grip on anything.

I don’t know how I knew, but I knew there was a cliff coming they were about to drag me over it and that would be it, forever. My knees slipped off first and when I reached my shoulders I finally managed to stop but they were still pulling at my feet. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on long.

 I saw Jackie looking at me and I begged him or whatever he was to help me. He ambled over to me and squatted just out of reach of my finger tips. He stroked them.

He said ‘You’re  mine…unless you’d be willing to do something for me.’

I gasped out a yes. Of course I was going to say yes to whatever he said. He grabbed my arm and as he pulled me up from the brink he whispered in my ear ‘bring me forty more.’

When he let go I was face down in the doorway of the building, blinded by sunlight, like I just fell out of a nightmare. There were some papers sticking out of my purse that weren’t there earlier. I sat up, curled against the wall and took a look. They were forty contracts, waiting for blood.

I learned the system in a few months. It’s really simple, Juan, but there are always simpletons to feed the bottom of the pyramid. It changed the way I saw the world. It’s just a big machine and most people are riding the conveyor belt towards wherever the operators want them to go. One, two, three four, ten, twenty, thirty. I didn’t like sending people into the conveyor belt but better them than me right?”

The silence that followed made it seem like it was a real question. “Better them than me, right?” It was like she wanted me to reassure her she wasn’t a bad person.

“You were number forty, Juan, and you were by far the easiest.”

She laughed again and I shrank.

“Don’t feel too bad,” She reached out and rubbed my back, soothing my stung ego. God, why was I so easy to manipulate?

“I was very good at it by then.”

“Here’s the thing, I got my forty and Jackie hasn’t let me go. When he told me he wanted a hundred now I realized that this is never going to end. Juan, it is never going to end with you either. You think you’re in some kind of twelve step program? I know the system Juan. That place is a trap. It’s the bottom of the pyramid. Jackie’s operators ensnare people and in desperation they go to St. Anthony’s. They come practically gift-wrapped for him, desperate people at their weakest, willing to be vulnerable to just get some help. He holds onto the promising ones for a while, the ones who can get him more souls. The others he just adds to the count.”

I interjected, “What do you mean?”

“I mean he has their soul under contract and they have no more use for him alive. He kills them Juan.”

I swallowed involuntarily. A few weeks ago, my whole life changed when I found out there was more to this world than my shallow existence. There was a whole layer beneath that I had never seen. Now, the little I’d managed to reconstruct was being shattered by Lucy.

I remembered Jackie’s words

She works for Satan, Juan, the Father of Lies. 

She seemed to sense my internal conflict.

“I’m not lying Juan. I’ve lived in this world for months now and I know how it works. I know right where you are. The fatigue, the confusion. The betrayal.

“ I’m sorry I did what I did to you. Really, I am. Please Juan. Look at me.”

She touched my elbow and I turned my tired eyes to meet hers. They were sad and I wanted to believe them. Her brow was knit in a way that said I’m so sorry it had to be this way.

“That’s why I found you. I’m trying to make things right. We can make it out of here.”

Not again I thought.

“Think about it. Here’s my number”

She pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled her number on it and handed it to me. She saw me hesitate for a second.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cut you this time.”

I grabbed it sheepishly.

“When you decide your soul is worth saving, give me a call.”

She turned to leave but my hand shot out and jerked her back by the arm. I think I stunned us both.

“Wait! Why did you say that?”

 “Why did I say what?”

“Say something about my soul being worth saving?”

“I can tell you think your soul is worthless. It’s why I got you Juan. Call me when you change your mind.”

She turned and I watched her walk away, my arms hanging limply at my side.

Part 2: Jackie

The nightmares started immediately. If I had managed to forget the strange exchange from earlier that day I was rudely reminded that night when I went to sleep. I found that my head was host to a raging party from hell. I fell in and out of consciousness like a drowning man slipping under and over the surface of the water. Judging by how damp I was the next morning, I really might have almost drowned, though by sweat, not seawater. I was relieved when my alarm shocked my eyes open to the sunlight streaming through my window. For a few minutes I laid in the tangle of blankets, glad to have escaped the clutches of the night.

My mind wandered back to the day before.

That girl, Lucy. Oh my god, she wasn’t kidding!

I jumped out of bed, my heart racing again.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, this can’t be real. What am I gonna do?

I repeated these words over and over again in my head as I paced, sweated and bit my nails. Some people would pull out a smoke in this situation, but I bit my nails. I only had a few good ones left this morning and soon I had bitten those down to the nubs and they burned. Too bad I can’t go out and buy a new pack of fingernails.

Okay, do something, Juan, something, something.

I thought about seeing a priest but I didn’t believe in God. Then again, I didn’t believe in the Devil and demons before this either.

After a moment of deliberation I knew what to do.

“Google will know.”

I pulled out my laptop and was greeted by the friendly and colorful “G”s and “O”s of my favorite internet deity. But what to search? “What to do when you sell your soul to the devil” seemed far too specific, so I typed in the more generic “demon possession”.

I clicked search and was sucked into the dark world of the occult and Satanism. I was hypnotized by page after page telling stories of possessions and hauntings. The accounts of demon hunters and exorcists held my eyes captive for hours until I realized I had to work today. It was then that I decided to look for something actually useful rather than just titillating.

On the ninth page of search results I found a promising lead: Possessed Anonymous. Surprisingly mundane. Apparently there was enough of this going around to warrant the formation of a twelve step program.

I wrote down the time and place: Seven thirty, Saint Anthony’s downtown.

“Well, maybe I will get to see a priest after all.”

I hurriedly dressed and ate breakfast before hopping in my car to go to work. The clock in the dash read 10:37.

Good. Just enough time to grab a candy bar.

*    *    *

My shift passed quickly. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from the idea that my soul was in grave danger. Maybe it was because I spent all the empty time thinking about the scary and exciting world I had been reading about.

Part of me I hoped I was ensnared by the Devil. My life was boring but this was exciting. The idea of having to fight for my very soul gave me a purpose. It was like getting caught up in a movie adventure. I just hoped the lights wouldn’t turn back on and remind me that I had to go back to my ordinary existence.

Earlier in the day, I clocked in with my head down but now when I clocked out I had my head up and a new vigor in my steps. Again, maybe it was the adrenaline. Or caffeine. Anyways, I was practically, shaking with nervous energy as I drove myself downtown. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, afraid that if I didn’t, I would shake right out of the window.

Okay, Juan, calm down, breathe.

            I parked on the street near the old cathedral. There was a statue of, St. Anthony out front which I admired briefly before heading to the front door. I pulled on the handle and was surprised when it rattled and refused to open.

            All my energy, and excitement immediately drained as the reality of the situation sobered me up.

That website was a joke… Dammit! How did I fall for it? ‘Posessed Anonymous’? Seriously? I’m sure some thirteen year olds had a laugh creating it imagining all the eleven year olds who would fall for it. Nice, Juan. Arrrgh, I am such an idiot!

Suddenly, it occurred to me that this might all be a video ambush. I scanned the street, paranoid that someone in a Halloween costume would jump out of nowhere to get me to scream or something. They’d post the video online and I’d be the laughingstock of Youtube. I imagined them getting a close up of my face as it contorted with fright. They’d replay it in slow motion to capture every humiliating detail.

I slinked down the steps and around the corner as fast as I could.

Maybe I was just early I thought, trying to push away the image of those thirteen year old pranksters getting the better of me.

I ducked into an alley and pulled out my phone to double check. To my relief, and confusion, I saw that I was too early and, apparently, at the wrong St. Anthony’s too. The one I wanted was on East Main Street, not West Main Street

Why would they have two St. Anthony’s so close to each other? I wondered People probably confuse them all the time.

It was growing darker, but soon enough I saw the right church. It was a sad little place, sandwiched between two larger buildings. Underneath a sign feebly declaring “St. Anthony’s” was this simple invitation: Come to the Light

It was dark inside and smelled smoky, like stale cigarettes. Suddenly the lights buzzed on and a calm voice from behind me said,

“Hi there. You’re early.”

He was negotiating the doorway quite well even with both hands occupied: one with heavily used binders and the other dragging a plastic tub with wheels. Still, I jumped to hold the door open for him.

He said thank you and set his load inside the circle of metal folding chairs. He looked a lot like me but thinner and he kept his head up. Even trying to get in the door with no hands he kept his composure. I get flustered just walking down the street.

“My name is Jackie” he said as he extended an open hand to me. I wasn’t much of a hand shaker, or a toucher even, but I didn’t want to be rude so I clasped my hand in his and when I did he quickly pulled me into a bear hug and I landed against him with an umph!

“I’m so glad you made it” he said in this unexpected embrace.

When he released me he asked me what my name was.

“Uhh, Juan.”

“Well, Juan, what brought you here tonight?”

“Google,” I said meekly.

“I mean why,” he responded patiently, “what made you look for us?”

He patted the seat across from him as he sat down.

“Here, have a seat.”

 I began to relate to him my story. He sat back and listened thoughtfully. He grimaced when I told him about getting my finger sliced. When I told him about my nightmares he nodded slowly as if to say Yes, yes. I know exactly what you mean. He stopped me a few times to ask me some specific questions: What finger did she slice? What was her name? Did I remember any of the symbols?

By the time I finished talking, people had been streaming in and chatting for a few minutes. They didn’t seem to distract him. He was completely focused on me and my story. That felt good.

“Juan,” he said when I was finished, “I’m very sorry that this happened to you, but I am glad that you found us, and I want you to know that it’s going to be okay. We’ve all been where you’ve been and there is a way out. I’m not saying this to scare you but you need to know this problem is going to get worse, a lot worse, before it gets better.”

The circle of chairs was filled now and he turned to address the gathering.

“Alright everyone! Let’s get started.”

I slid down into my chair and crossed my arms. The tension in my guts finally dissipated as I found my rescuers. I wasn’t alone. The possession, or whatever, was real but Jackie was going to help me, and the rest of these poor souls, we were going to get out together. That’s what Jackie said.

I let his words seep into my ears and unclench my worried brain. He seemed to be reading from a script in his binder but the words were no less soothing because of it. Everyone else looked down or closed their eyes and nodded, as if finally understanding the meaning of the words.

When he came to the end of the script, he opened the meeting up for sharing. After a brief silence, one burly guy took a deep breath and started talking.

“Hello, I’m Peter and I’m possessed.”

“Hi Peter” the group responded in unison.

I raised my eyebrow at this.

Wow, I’m living a cliché.

One by one people shared their stories of possession. Some were in deep debt and some greasy stranger came along to offer a way out. Some were consumed by hatred-of their bosses, coworkers, ex lovers- and someone just happened to come into their lives who empathized with their grievance and offered to fulfill their revenge fantasies…for a price. Some had the objects of their hatred killed. It was nothing that could be traced to them. One guy’s boss died of a heart attack the next day. This other woman’s boyfriend was killed by a drunk driver.

Mine was by far the lamest story. I was pressured into selling my soul by a cashier at the Stars and Stripes. Why did I do it? So Lucy wouldn’t think I was lame. That and thirty cents. Not that it made it any worse, really, but I didn’t even get thirty cents, I only saved thirty cents. I am such an idiot.

“Well,” Jackie said after a long silence in which no one else volunteered any stories, “does anyone else have any burning desire to share?”

Nooo, thank you, I thought, I’ll just keep this to myself for a while.

“Okay, those who would like to can join me for the serenity prayer”

He slapped is binder shut and stood up. Everyone else followed his lead and grabbed hands with the people next to them. I was still seated with my arms crossed. Again? What is with these people and touching and hugging? The guys on my right and left were already standing with their hands were reaching out expectantly. The awkward gap between them mocked me: are you going to be lame? The one asshole who doesn’t want to participate?

After a brief second I got up and completed the chain of hands.

After mouthing along to the serenity prayer, we unclasped hands and began dispersing. Some paired off to talk but most began to stream out to the sidewalk and I followed behind, eager to escape back to the safety of my car. People had already begun congregating under the streetlight and were smoking.

I twisted and maneuvered my way though them and was almost free when a Hand on my shoulder pulled me back in.

“Juan! I’m glad I caught you.”

It was Jackie.

“I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, no problem.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh, kind of relieved actually. I’m glad I came. I’m glad I’m not alone.  You know, I thought this was a trap on the way over here, but, uhh yeah, I’m relieved.”

“Good, good. And you’re not alone. I’m here for you, the group’s here for you. Just keep coming Juan. You are going to make it through this. But not alone. Our next meeting is tomorrow night. You coming?”

I reached a finger to my teeth but there was no nail left to bite.

“Yeah, Sure.” 

Jackie cocked his head and looked at me deeper with questioning eyes, as though he knew I was the kind of person who would say whatever I thought he wanted me to say with no intention of following through. I felt his eyes slip past my quivering lips and peer over the precipice down to my very heart. They must have seen the squishy indecision there. 

“Juan,” they commanded like a parent, the words echoing down my gullet “tell me the truth.”

“Yes!” I spit out, surprising myself. “I will be there tomorrow.”

“Good!” He replied with a smile, withdrawing his eyes from inside me.

“Remember what I said earlier, we’re going to help you but things are going to get worse before they get better. They know you’re trying to break from your deal and they’re not going to let go of you easily.”

“Who is they?”

“Juan,” he explained patiently, “You sold your soul to the Devil. Now, he isn’t personally going to come after you, we’re not on his level, but his servants are going to do their best to drag you back to their hell. The nightmares are going to get worse.”

“So what do I do?” I asked in a panic, dreading another night like the one before.”

“Just keep coming. We’re going to teach you everything you need to know. And one final thing: that girl who ensnared you, she’s going to come again for you. Do not let her back into your life.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Don’t give her any time. Don’t listen to her. She is going to lie to you. She works for Satan, Juan, the Father of Lies. She’ll say anything to keep you from coming back but don’t believe anything she says. Geez, Juan, she works for Lucifer. Her name is Lucy, she’s from the Devil, okay!”

He seemed to catch himself losing his composure and let me go.

“Sorry for getting excited there. It’s just that I’ve seen too many souls get pulled back in by her kind.”

He leaned back against the brick wall, looked down and sighed. Suddenly he looked tired and weak. I didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be the strong one.

“Juan,” he said as he lifted his eyes towards me, “Promise me you won’t listen to her.”

His plea tugged at my heart.

Sure, Jackie. I won’t. I promise.” I said, eager to comfort him.

“Not a word Juan.”

“No, no! I promise.”

“Okay.”

Jackie lifted himself off the wall and patted my shoulder.

“We’re going to get through this together, Juan.”

 With his hand on my shoulder and his eyes on mine, he said reassuringly,

“Believe me.”

Part 1: Lucy

I pulled into the massive parking lot of the Stars and Stripes Superstore on my way to work the other day. I needed, well, wanted to pick up a candy bar. I don’t like it in there--the bright rows of fluorescent lights, endless aisles, the empty stares of the employees. It’s soul sucking. But I really wanted a candy bar. 

I swerved my little Honda into an empty parking space and sat there for a second. The wheel in my hands felt good, solid. This was not a glamorous vehicle by any standard, but it was mine. I got it used, but by now most of the dings were ones I put there myself, most of the miles were mine, it even smelled like me and it was mine…at least until it was time to pay back the student loans.

As I sat there and breathed, I felt the bulge of belly fat roll over my belt.

“Okay, this is my last candy bar,” I promised myself, “Tomorrow I start riding my bike to work. Tomorrow. Today, however, I will enjoy one last candy bar.”

 I slammed the door closed and walked to the store to get my fix.

Inside was a maze of bright lights and On Sale! signs but I knew where to go. My route was well worn and I hardly had to look as I turned down the usual aisle and grabbed my favorite treat. Just out of curiosity I read the ingredients one more time: High fructose corn syrup, sugar, maltodextrin. Well, I guess they hadn’t switched to a more health conscious recipe since yesterday. I was kind of hoping they would so I didn’t have to feel so bad about doing this to myself every day.

“Oh, well, tomorrow I stop. But--why not wait till Sunday? The week’s already shot as it is and--no, no, tomorrow it is.”

Candy in hand, I went to the front of the store and searched for an open register. Waiting in my line of sight was a smiling young woman who waved me into her register and I followed obediently.

“Is this all for you today?” She asked as she scanned my candy bar. 

“Yeah that’s all,” I said, slightly ashamed to have disappointed her with my meager offering. I looked up from the ground for a second and noticed her nametag: Lucy. She totaled up my order with a few fast swipes of her fingers on the computer screen.

“A dollar thirty three is your total. Would you like to sell your soul to the Devil and save ten percent off your purchase?”She asked pleasantly, but automatically.

“If you sign up today you’ll even get a free keychain.”

Taken aback, I looked to her face for an expression that said just kidding but I only saw dead serious eyes waiting for an answer, so I tried to play along.

“Well, can I see the keychain?” I asked.

Like a magician, she seemed to pull one out from thin air and slipped it into my palm.  I was impressed by its heft. This was no plastic trinket given away like so many crumbs to the pigeons; this was high class, chromey. I couldn’t really tell what it was, but it made for a tempting offer: save money and get something for free? Mostly, though, I didn’t feel like I could say no. I didn’t want to seem lame, like someone who reactively says no to everything in life. I’m such a dope.

“Okay, that sounds like a good deal, sure.”

She rewarded my consent with a smile.

“Wonderful! Just sign here and you’ll be enrolled.”

I reached for the pen on the counter and was shaken when she seized my wrist with a forceful NO!

She put on her cashier smile again.

“You sign this with blood.”

Again I looked to her face to say just kidding! but I found no answers there. She pulled a small box cutter from her apron pocket and clicked the blade open.

The sudden rush of adrenaline to my arms rendered them limp and weak. She can’t do that…can she? I looked around. Who was going to stop her? The rules? Me? I was completely incapacitated by someone so flagrantly breaking the rules of polite society and found that I was powerless to enforce them on my own. I was playing by her rules now. My hands and fingers were damp and cold.

All I could think was I can’t believe this is happening, I can’t believe this is happening. Did she sanitize the blade? I can’t believe this is happening.

She pressed the tip of the blade into the damp and squishy flesh of my index finger until the surface broke and a little dot of red appeared.

Wide eyed and slack jawed I could only manage a feeble, “Uhh…” as protest.

She continued on as if this were as ordinary as taking my fingerprints. She pressed my bloodied fingertip firmly onto the designated spot on the receipt which I now saw was printed with the strange characters of a language I had never seen before.

My eyes darted frantically about the lines of foreign symbols for something familiar, a way out. All I found was a smiley face at the bottom accompanying the words Thank you for shopping with us!

She printed off another receipt which she handed to me and kept the one I had just “signed” before telling me to have a nice day.  I knew that was my cue to leave.

In a daze, I walked off to try to have an otherwise nice day. The front doors slid open and again my skin felt the sunshine and cold breeze of early spring. I exhaled. Was I holding my breath the whole time?

I was feeling a bit better as I settled into my car, my familiar seat. Safe inside my box. Inhale, exhale, ahhh. 

Okay that was very strange but things are normal again. This is my car. This is real. This is my steering wheel. This is real. Only when I gripped it did I noticed my finger was wrapped in a band aid. She must have slipped it on somewhere back in our exchange.

“That girl had fast hands,” I thought. Then I patted my coat pocket and heard the familiar crackle of the wrapper. Good, it was still there.

“Well, she may have stolen my soul,” I thought with a chuckle, “but at least she didn’t steal my candy bar.”