"Did you know there's a finite number of times you can sell your soul? Eventually there's not enough left to be worth the bargain."

It was supposed to be a drunken joke, but the only one left laughing after a botched summoning and five dead teenagers was the demon they pissed off. In fear and desperation Kelsey bargained away his soul to survive the night — even if it meant giving the thing up in ten years' time.

But there's a certain amount of freedom that comes with knowing you're a damned creature. Nothing really has consequences because you're gonna end up with the worst consequence there is anyway. That's how Kelsey rationalized his shitty coping mechanisms. How he dealt with the grief and trauma of it all by finding vices wherever he could. The worse the act, the bigger the rush.

And there was no rush like the one that came with continually selling off his soul.

He's the doomed man, the soulless fuckin' wonder. Six hundred and sixty six demons bound beneath his skin in contracts — stuck there until the first one can take their prize. He'd keep dealing, too, if there was any part of his soul left to offer. But now that he's older and wiser and significantly less high the regret has set in. Hard.

So he might as well try to do something good with whatever remains of his years. It won't make a difference, not in Hell, but he's fooled himself enough into believing it's the thought that counts.

It doesn't. But still.