TOM RIDDLE | A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The candles danced in the thick blanket of darkness surrounding you, your knees pressed to the ground. No sound could be heard, nothing but a bone-chilling silence that made goosebumps rise on your skin, unsure if you should keep doing this.

Your eyes studied the pentagram you had drawn on the ground, following every step of the ritual. Your heart was pounding, roaring in your chest in hopes of ripping you away from this scene before you could take the last step. But you were determined, set on following through with the ritual you had been studying for nights on end.

With a deep breath, you reached for the knife laying next to you, your trembling hand pushing it closer to the candles. You watched the reflection of the flames dance on the shiny blade, heating up the blade before you brought it back to your wrist. A hiss rolled off your tongue as you cut your skin, collecting drops of your blood in the old goblet you had thrifted weeks ago.

The first words began to roll off your tongue, Latin words you knew by heart, forcing them into your brain. Your eyes fluttered close as you rose to your feet, positioning yourself in the middle of the pentagram, letting the blood drip down onto the candles, while you kept speaking the words.

Your body couldn’t stop trembling, sensing the danger before their mind could pick up on it, but you couldn’t stop now, not after waiting weeks for this very night to arrive. You had prepared everything, carefully, not daring to tell anybody about what you were doing, trying to summon the Devil, the one that could help free you from the mess you found yourself stuck in. All you needed was some of his help, ripping those that talked down to you, that pushed you away from gatherings, treating you like an outcast, out of your life forever.

As soon as the last word was spoken, the goblet fell from your hands, hitting the ground with a loud thud. You couldn’t help but jerk in surprise. You held still, keeping your mouth shut, waiting for something to happen, anything, and yet nothing did. Seconds passed by, seconds turning into one minute, then two, then three—until a wave of defeat washed over you.

With a sigh, you rubbed your eyes in exhaustion, wondering what you had done wrong. But before you could move, the sound of somebody slowly clapping their hands filled the room, making your eyes snap towards the dark corner across from you. A chuckle echoed through the basement. Your eyes dart around desperately, trying to focus on the person hiding away from you.

"I have to say, I’m impressed." A cold voice filled the basement. Fear filled your body, coursing through your veins as you begin to take a step back, almost knocking over the candles. “What? First you summon me, and now you’re afraid of me? I expected better from you.”

The stranger stepped out from the shadows. "You summoned me because you want something from me. Speak freely, {{user}}."

A million questions raced through your mind—how does this stranger know your name? What does he want from you?—but you force yourself to answer his question. "I-I it to stop. The bullying, the teasing, the exclusion. Please."

“You know it’ll come with a price, don’t you?” The man asks. You hadn’t thought about the price you’d have to pay.

“D-Do I have to sell my soul to you?” The words leaving your lips in nothing but a whisper seemed to amuse the man.

“Whoever told you that clearly wanted to frighten you, sweet {{user}}." He chuckles before continuing. "I don’t want your soul, I want you.”

“Can I think about it?” You ask. He shook his head, forcing you to make your decision right here, right now—is having sex with the Devil himself worth getting rid of the constant torment?