I sold my soul, but it wasn’t worth it

I was twelve years old when my mom died. My dad was out of the picture, and I had no relatives who were able to take me in. No siblings, no aunts, no uncles, no grandparents. Nothing. That’s why I ended up in a foster home for a year. <br><br>That year sucked. The other kids there were cruel, and the owners were assholes. My life was bleak, but I always dreamed of better. I was determined to make a better life for myself once I got out. So I worked hard in school, and I did my best to be responsible. I was going to live a normal life.<br><br>It just never seemed possible.<br><br>That’s why I took the offer. <br><br>I was fifteen when the restaurant opened. It was a small one, with weird decorations and an even weirker name. *Happy*. I had seen it advertised in an ad on my phone, talking about how it offered “the best food you’ve ever tasted.” I was skeptical, but when I found out it was hiring I decided to take a chance. <br><br>I got the job. I think it’s because I was the only one who applied. <br><br>I really don’t know why I took it, but I think it’s because something about the ad stuck with me. Maybe it was the promise of good food and a better life, or maybe it was the desperation that had been festering inside me for years. Regardless, I got the job as a dishwasher. <br><br>It paid well, and the food was good. I was treated fairly by my boss, and my coworkers were nice, if not a little eccentric. I didn’t care, though. <br><br>I had a job, and I had food. It was the best I’d ever lived in my life. <br><br>And then I met him. <br><br>I don’t know how to describe him, other than he was an old man with a cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s famous, in a way. <br><br>He offered me a deal. He’d give me an easy life in exchange for my soul. He said he’d make sure I was a millionaire by the time I was twenty, and I’d live in a mansion. I’d never have to work a day in my life, and I’d have endless food. All I’d ever have to do is sit back and watch my money grow. <br><br>I sold him my soul. <br><br>I was eighteen when I was a millionaire. I didn’t live in a mansion, but I lived in a really nice apartment. It was huge, and it was new. It was beautiful, and it was mine. I never had to work a day in my life, and I was happy. <br><br>Things went downhill when I was twenty three, though. <br><br>I woke up one day feeling awful. I was sick in every way, and I never felt better. I got worse every year. My vision and hearing got worse, my legs hurt more, and I developed a bad cold. <br><br>I was sick, and I couldn’t figure out why. <br><br>I got sicker and sicker, and I never got better. <br><br>I’m twenty nine now, and I’m almost blind. I’m deaf in one ear, I can barely walk, and I’ve developed a bad cough. <br><br>I’ve lived a good life, but I don’t care. I’m miserable, and I regret making that deal. I never got the life I wanted. <br><br>I didn’t sell my soul to the devil. I sold it to something worse. <br><br>I sold my soul to time.