Prologue: Pay Your Rent!

“Jurie Boden!” An old woman’s voice boomed outside the apartment hall. Loud banging on her door followed the thundering voice of the furious landlady. “Come out here this second, or I’ll call the police on you!”

She crammed into a corner in her room, uncertain about what to do.

Unpaid rent.

Money loans from various lending apps.

Piling bills: electricity, water, and the internet. There were envelopes all over the tiled floor, which had once been alive with the hopeful footsteps of a budding writer but had now faded away like the dying leaves.

Her books hadn’t been selling. The sleepless nights she spent on typing and editing the story, which she thought would launch her career, flopped!

The banging outside continued. She covered her ears so as not to hear the insults and harsh words Norri hurled at her. Every word hit and crushed her already torn heart and ego to smithereens.

She clutched her knees to her chest, like how she tried to cling to her precious dream. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with her sweat caused by anxiety and the humidity inside. Since the electric supply was cut, she couldn’t use the electric fan to somehow cool the room. The windows were tightly shut. Only the heavy curtains witnessed her emotional and mental distress.

The bleak apartment even added to the gloominess she felt. Not a single ray of the morning light penetrated inside. Her vision blurred as her crying continued. She could no longer breathe because of a clogged nose. Her foggy brain even blocked the remaining sliver of hope she had.

Death! Yes, death!

It was the only way—the only solution she could think of. Her escape.

Once she died, she didn’t have to worry about her debts!

Though her knees wobbled because of stress and an empty stomach, she mustered the remaining strength she had to walk to the kitchen. She groped and got support from the walls within her reach.

‘I only tried to pursue my passion, but why am I experiencing this?! Why is life so harsh?! What have I done to deserve a miserable life like this?!’

She finally reached the kitchen, and when she was about to grab the handle of the drawer where the knives were, it suddenly swung open. The knives floated in the air, pointing towards her direction. Their edges glimmered under the little amount of daylight from the small uncovered glass window. Kitchen utensils swayed back and forth, dishes broke one after another, the faucet splashed as much water as it could, and the cupboards creaked close-open. The kitchen was in turmoil, as if a natural disaster had ransacked her place!

Her jaws dropped at the horrible sight.

“Which one do you want to use?” A voice in her head spoke. It was deep, as if it came from a water well. Every word uttered sent chills down her spine. “You thought of ending your life, right? Well, let me do the honor!”

Five knives of different sizes and lengths swung towards her.

“No! I don’t want to die!” she yelled. Her arms covered her face.

The knives dropped on the floor. The clanging metal sound jolted Jurie back to reality.

 Everything went back to normal.

“I thought you said you wanted to?” This time, the voice was sweet and gentle. It was a woman.

“I… I still want to live,” she said and broke down again. She was glued to her spot by an unknown powerful force, making her feet fastened on the floor. The fear that embraced her moments ago instantly disappeared; self-pity took its place. “But I don’t know how.”

She scanned the kitchen, searching for the owner of the voice. Until she realized it was her own voice.

“Is that so?” A woman in her late twenties appeared out of nowhere. The room was dark, but it seemed that she carried her own ring light. No! It wasn’t a ring light. It was a light posse of fireflies.

Jurie rubbed her eyes to clear her vision. Footsteps echoed, coming closer to her. The woman’s silhouette became clearer as she stepped nearer. With the help of the illumination of the night fliers, she was able to see the intruder’s face. It was her!

“Who are you?” she asked, trembling even more.

“I am you,” the woman replied. Her full, rounded lips curled into a sinister grin in the most eerie way. Her chinky eyes never blinked as she stared at Jurie. Her turned-up nose matched her other facial features. “Let’s have a deal.”

Jurie stayed silent. Her mind was calming down a bit, though her heart was erratic.

“How about I help you escape this misery you are in?” she continued.

“What’s the catch?”

The woman, clad in an all-black robe, tossed her wavy jet-black hair. Once again, she cunningly smiled. “I can make you a famous author. No debts. Have your own property; you don’t need to rent anymore… in exchange for—”

“For what?”

“All you have to do is sign this contract.” Out of thin air, a scroll popped out. The woman undid the seal to reveal a long parchment with printed words. She snapped her fingers, and a quill appeared in her hand. She stabbed Jurie’s palm with the tip of the plume that was surprisingly sharp.

“Ouch!” Juries pulled her hand from the woman’s grip.

“Woops! Sorry!” she said and caught the dripping blood with the parchment. “I’ll give you six years, six months, and six days to be famous. You can live in luxury during those times. But after that… after your life expires, your soul is forever mine.” 

The woman touched her forehead and painlessly pulled a glowing light from it. Then, she put the substance inside a jar. She breathed in as if she was enjoying the aroma of the most expensive menu at a restaurant. "Hmm! Nothing beats the scent of a pure, desperate soul." She showed Jurie the flickering, floating mini ball of fire inside a jar. "For now, I'll keep a portion of your soul here, unless you find me and take it back."

As she said the last words, she gradually disappeared until what was left was the petrified Jurie in disbelief.

“What is wrong with you, girl?” Tasha tapped her back to her senses. “Hey! Are you okay?”

Jurie blinked, and everything felt different. The kitchen lights were already switched on, the utensils… organized. She remained speechless, debating whether what she witnessed moments ago was real or just a fragment of her hyper imagination.

“Wow! Is this for real?!” Tasha exclaimed. After getting Jurie’s attention, she was instantly in her room. Jurie didn’t even notice how quickly she did that.

The sound of mouse-clicking annoyed Jurie, so she followed Tasha into her room. She walked to the computer table and saw that the once blank page already had words on it. What surprised her the most was the last two words—THE END!

“How did you pull this off?” Tasha asked again. “Last night you just told me that writer’s block has been pestering you. Was that a prank?”

“No, it wasn’t. I didn’t write that. And how did you get in?” she asked. “Is the landlady still outside? She was nagging at me earlier for not paying the rent.” She scanned her friend’s face and noticed something. “What happened to your face?” Tasha’s lips were as red as cherry, as if someone had just busted them. The multiple layers of foundation on her face were so white, they almost looked like dry cement.

“I have a date. And there’s no landlady outside. Why would there be one when you own this place?” She even flaunted her curls. But when she saw Jurie's bleeding hand, she gasped. “What happened to you?!” She rushed to the kitchen counter and grabbed some wet wipes to clean the blood drops that stained the floor scarlet. “Are you trying to kill yourself?!”

That was when Jurie realized that she was still holding a knife when she entered the room.

“I think I accidentally sold my soul to the devil. I need to get it back.”