Hazel's POV

“You’re not about to jump, are you?”

My head snaps backwards as I turn around to search for the source of the voice. My heart leaps into my throat when I realize I hadn’t imagined it. There’s a man behind me. And althouh I can’t see his face clearly, I can make out outlines of his short hair and his well defined jawline. “What does it matter? You don’t know me,” I reply. I feel weak from all the running and crying.

"I see you've sobered up." "Excuse me?"

"Humans are truly pathetic creatures. They would do anything to escape pain, even though they couldn't live without it."

"I don't know who you are, but I should probably let you know that referring to other people as humans makes you sound like a sociopath," I state.

"Sociopath? That’s a bit harsh, Miss Ambrose,” he replies. Something about him makes me want to flee as fast as I possibly can. But I don’t. “What do you want? Are you a stalker?” I ask. I’m still shaking, but this time it’s from fear. It’s crazy how well I can hear the smirk on his lips when he says, “I told you I would find you.”

I’m confused for a long while until it hits me. “It’s you.” The one I'd been texting ealier on at the bar.

“You’re finally catching on.”

I stumble back involuntarily. “I- How did you find me?”

“You’re quite popular. Influential even. I wonder what people would think if they saw how much of a mess you are right now,” he says ignoring my question.

“Dealing with loss irresponsibly, giving up on everything you’ve worked for, all while wondering if you’ll ever be able to keep it together the way you usually do when you readopt the need to hide your emotions.”

“You’re judging me?” My voice is faint. Weak.

“I am. And if you let me, I’ll tell you even more,” he replies. His voice is calm, and chillier than the night wind. I could listen to him speak all night if he wasn’t being such a dick.

“I’m calling the police,” I say, tilting me chin up in a feeble attempt to intimidate him. But I can feel myself shrink back when he laughs. “That certainly won’t do you any good, Miss Ambrose.” It’s almost as if he’s being polite, but everything about him makes me feel fragile.

“I’m not a threat to you," he states. “I think you are."

“That's fair. But at least hear me out before you send me away," he suggests. I swallow, wishing now that I'd taken my waterbottle along.

“I need something from you, just like you need something from me,” he continues self-assuredly.

“What could I possibly want from you?” I spit.

“Come now, there’s no need to be rude,” he teases. “You can walk away from this conversation at any time. And you’ll never see me again,” he adds.

“No, I can’t. Now I’m intrigued. How do you know what I want? If you really did you wouldn’t be so confident about providing it.”

My heart thumps a hundred times too fast as he begins striding towards me. I’m still frozen in the spot, not paying attention to how much my legs are aching. He becomes close enough for me to see his face. I shiver.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper, secured by a little red ribbon. He hands it to me. “That’s a pretty bow,” I joke.

“Open it.”

It’s embarrassing how much I’m still shaking as I do as he says. From three feet away, I can feel all the danger that he radiates and it’s quite unsettling. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but what I see on the header is beyond my basic reason.

“Soul contract,” I read aloud questioningly. “What does that mean?” He doesn’t respond so I keep reading.

The official contract between the human soul giver and the demon, Logan.

This agreement shall be signed or stamped on the basis that the soul giver understands and confirms the following terms:

Party A:

I declare myself of sound physical and mental health, and in the perfect state of mind to comprehend the understated requirements and conditions.

I am not under any form of duress or coercion to pay heed to this agreement.

I have the full and conscious understanding that once this never-ending agreement is made, there is no order, above or below, in any world or dimension, that could possibly break the bond formed between the parties involved in this agreement, nor the agreement itself.

I will relinquish permanently unto the demon, Logan, all ownership of my soul once he has accomplished the mission stated on his side of the agreement.

I have acknowledged that once this agreement is signed, neither death nor time can unbind me, and this contract shall never be disputed or argued.

Party B:

I shall serve my master with every bit of strength and dignity, protect them without regard to circumstance, and become their tool for obtaining everything that they desire. Every command shall be carried out with efficiency and perfection until the very end.

In conclusion, this agreement is irrevocable, binding and eternal.

I’ve forgotten how to breathe. And think, and speak.

I’m a bigger mess than before now. A hundred times more frightened and a million times more anxious.

“You’re…” I swallow hard, feeling all the life drain out of me.

“There’s no need to look so perplexed. Surely, you’ve heard of demons and contracts like this,” he says.

“Of course, I have. But it’s stupid to believe in the supernatural. You’re toying with me, aren’t you?” I reply, thankful I’ve been able to find my voice.

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?” He asks with mock worry in his voice.

I shove the contract onto his chest, not bothering whether he catches it or not. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

I can’t explain why, but a sudden wave of rage overcomes me. “And even if you really are what you say you are, why on earth would I sell my soul to you?

“It’s normal for humans to ask for proof during the first encounter. So, go ahead,” he says, moving to cover the gap between us as every nerve in my body sparks with panic. I bow my head to avoid his gaze and all I can see is his chest as he towers over me.

“Say it. Tell me to prove it. Your mind craves the satisfaction of knowing.”

I hate him. I hate how right he is. it’s infuriating.

“Is it safe to look into your eye’s then?” I ask. I know he is watching me, studying me intently. “I want to know if you can compel me into giving you my soul,” I add.

He takes one step forward, causing me to take one step back, fully aware of the edge of the roof behind me.

“That wouldn’t be in accordance with our agreement.” He takes another step, then another, and so do I.

“I can’t trust you.”

I turn my head back to see how close I am to falling to my death, only to feel cold, slender fingers just above my jawline gripping my face and forcing my head back.

His voice drops to a low, sinister vibration, and I suddenly feel like I’ve been drugged. “I… compel, possess and deceive humans, either for my own entertainment or to serve my master. But once you become my master, I have no right to compel you.”

“How do you know I will?”

He chuckles darkly. “Potential, Miss Ambrose. Let me help you unlock your true potential to the fullest,” he says with eager persuasion. 

“You don’t expect me to trust you or your ridiculous claims.”

I’m beginning to think this is all just one vivid nightmare. One that I’ve been trapped in since I decided to take a nap after my reckless day drinking.

He takes one last step that brings him a little too close to me, but when I try to step back, my foot lands on thin air. I draw it back immediately in horror. One last move and I'm dead.

He leans in enough for me to feel his cool breath on my neck. “You’re in denial of yourself and all that I could reveal to you if only you would ask,” he whispers. I shudder.

“How? Tell me how you intend to prove it!” I’m getting unbearably anxious about standing so close to a horrible fall.

“Go on. Ask for it,” he demands.

Finally looking up, our eyes lock for the first time. I suck in a deep breath. Today has truly been full of bad choices.

“Prove it.”

All it takes is a little push. 

My heart stops when I feel his hand on my abdomen. And his eyes never leave mine as he pushes me off the edge. 

My hand flies forward, my fingers struggling to grab onto his coat in a feeble attempt to stop the fall. But it’s no use. The rough grey material slips right out of my grip.

And I feel my body grow stiff, paralyzed by adrenaline. I brace myself for impact, but when I close my eyes, I feel nothing.