Don't mind me, I'm just a son of a gun

I couldn't stay still at all, and I wondered whether it was because it was fucking freezing outside, all the caffeine I had taken into my system or if it was because I was scared absolutely shitless. It could be anything, really, but I hate to be the one breaking it to you - I was so scared that I knew if I stopped to stand still for even a fucking second I would have a nervous breakdown and maybe actually, y'know, drop dead. The worst part was probably that it wouldn't even be cool; it would be fucking heart failure.

There was a sound like a candle going out, only much louder, behind me. It was the noise I had been terrified of. I had heard it just once before, and it wasn't the noise itself I was scared of. It was what followed.

"Long time no see, Johnny."

I turned around and looked at the man standing there. He was wearing a black suit with red details, and he looked like he could be in his early thirties. His hair was dark and curly and he had a goatee that could make anyone who wanted one of those jealous. I wasn't.

"Your wish was completed, you've had your five years, time's up. I want my payment."

You see, I had been stupid and lovesick five years ago. A girl I was helplessly in love with was dying and I found a way to save her, even though there shouldn't be. Life was a funny thing and nothing you could really do anything about, and you shouldn't really pretend like you could move a chess piece and make it all work out.

"I... I...", was all I could manage to say.

"You don't have to be scared, Johnny. I'm not gonna hurt you in any way at all."

"But..."

"You promised. The deal is that I would save Claire - whom you didn't even stay with - and you'd have five happy years with this lovely girl. Not that it matters now, but why did you break up with her?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt her", I mumbled. "Making a deal with the Devil can't be, y'know, fucking great."

"You're the one who found me, not reversed. So to speak in your tongue - you're a really big fucking idiot, Johnny."

I swallowed hard. "So what now? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, you sold your soul..."

Thing was that he had been really unclear about what that would actually mean, so when he suddenly grabbed me and threw me into what felt like a fucking inferno, I couldn't help that I screamed. The journey felt like it took seconds and forever at the same time, but everything turned white. Maybe I had gone blind, but at that point I didn't even really care.

"Where... where am I?"

"Welcome to Hell, Johnny."

Slowly my eyesight came back to me and I realized it looked like as if I was in my old apartment. It was my first place I had gotten on my own after college, and it was a short miserable stay. I was glad I met Claire soon after everything had started going to hell, because without her I wouldn't have been able to pull myself out of it.

And now, it seemed, I was literally in actual Hell.

This can't be right. Something is wrong. I'm not supposed to be here.

If I really was in Hell, it didn't look like I had expected it to. Where was all the flames, the hellish fire pits you would get thrown into? There wasn't supposed to be a shitty one roomer in Chicago.

I looked around and saw all my old stuff - that bed that was actually just a mattress on the floor, the sheets that had seen better days, the piles of comics and books scattered about everywhere. And, of course, the table where everything shitty happened. My heart started to race and my wrists hurt of longing when I saw a bag of fine white powder.

There was a loud banging on the door. "Oh Johnny!" a voice boomed, a voice I could never forget. On shaky legs I walked over to open the door. There stood Roover - the man I had thought looked like the Devil himself. Now that I had been the real Devil I could tell they really weren't alike, but yet I was still shaking at the sight of him. Back in the days it would've been because of abstinence, but now I really had no idea what the cause was. Maybe just the memory was enough to throw me back into my old habits. "I came with your stuff."

But I don't do this shit anymore I really fucking shouldn't...

"Actually, you're a bit late with the payment. You've been for quite a while."

"I'm sorry", I blurted out, "I'm just in between jobs right now and..." My voice trailed off, because we both knew that lie. It wasn't like I actually was searching for a way to pay Roover back; he just got high in his apartment and fucked hookers in dark alleys at night, and I knew that the other man must've figured it out by now.

"You've been unemployed for twelve months? Wow. I guess no one really wants a junkie at work - you're not more worth than a whore."

"I'll pay you back sometime soon, I promise. Just give me -"

"Give you what? Free drugs and I'm supposed to be cool with that? Dude, I've given you plenty fucking time. Time's up. Give me the money."

"I-I can't..."

Roover sighed. "That's what I thought as well." He backed out of the apartment after throwing the back of heroine at me. "Get him, boys."

Three men took his place, one holding a baseball bat, and I knew I was dangerously close to throwing up. Soon enough I did, and along came lots of blood and gore and blood-chilling screams.

I guess maybe that really was my own personal hell.

I inhaled sharply and sat up too quickly. Blood rushed to my head and I was so dizzy - I had no idea where I even were. There were some distant memories from the day before, but they could might as well just have been fragments of some crazy dream. I groaned and hid my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes until I could see colourful spots dance around on the inside of my eyelids, and when I ran my fingers through my hair I noticed my surroundings. The pale gray ways in the sick morning light, small pieces of dust floating around in the air and the lack of life itself. I couldn't be anywhere but in the small miserable apartment that I despised.

It wasn't a dream then. I'm in Hell I guess and this is what my life will look like now.

I stumbled up off the mattress, only falling once on my way to the ridiculously small bathroom. It barely contained a toilet, a sink and the tiniest shower in the world - every time I showered my arms hit the hot pipes, so I always had fucking burn marks everywhere. The whole point with the journey into the most claustrophobic room I'd ever been in was to check the damage, because as I remembered it the last night had been rough and really painful.

There was not a single scratch on me. I looked the same as always, despite the absolutely horrified look in my dark eyes, that I looked a lot paler than I used to and I seemed... hollow, somehow. Maybe the mirror showed a picture of how I used to look instead of the truth, because when I looked down at my arm it looked tanned except for those places where I had scars. There was scars after nights of insanity and self harm and needles, and one innocent one from when I was a kid and had had chicken pox.

I'm not sure I can handle this. I'm not even supposed to fucking be here. I gotta get out now.

There was no real plan in my head except escaping before I would have to re-live anything again when I got out of the apartment and slid along the icy streets of the town that suffocated me. All I knew was that I couldn't stay inside for one more second and that I needed to try to see if there was some way out. My outfit wasn't really fit for winter though, as it had been almost autumn a few days ago. I was wearing an oversized flannel shirt over a tanktop and ripped jeans to that. My Vans were soaked after a few seconds out in the snow-clad city.

It felt like I just walked and walked and walked without getting anywhere. The same Starbucks appeared on my right side every other block. There wasn't that many of those out there. Or was it? Were they really that closely placed to each other? I didn't think so. Bad fucking business plan of them then.

I walked until my feet were numb and I couldn't stop my teeth from clapping together. Even my insides felt frozen and the blood seemed thicker than usual, like as if ice cubes were trying to float down my veins.

Eventually I had to give up. I couldn't walk forever, especially when I didn't get anywhere. Once again I felt like as if I stood still I would die. Heart failure. But maybe that would be better than going back and really feel the true essence of Hell.

I'm gonna get out of here. If it is the last thing I ever do I'm gonna get the fuck out of here. I've done it before and I'll fucking do it again.

I went in to the apartment again, and only seconds later there was a knocking on the door. It took a lot to turn around and open it. This time it was the actual Devil himself, his fingers were pressed together and there was a polite smile on his face. "Hello again, Johnny. Having a nice stay here?"

"You fucking son of a bitch, I'm not supposed to be here. Let me out."

"No. Your soul is mine and I get to do whatever I want to do with it."

"My soul yeah but not my fucking body."

"Well, you should've listened closer when I told you the agreements", he said with a shrug.

"You didn't fucking say anything about me having to live in Hell!"

"Are you sure? One hundred percent?"

"Yes!"

"Oups. My bad then. But now there's nothing to do about that, really, so I guess you're going to be stuck here with me for a long, long time." He smiled, and that smile looked pure evil and sent shivers down my spine. "See you around then."

"Don't you fucking -"

"Get him, boys."

The day ended in the same way the last had done, but this time I wasn't focused on that. I was thinking about revenge, because I guessed that it was all I hadn't lost.