When the doorbell rang, a voice inside me said it was either the Angel of Death or my delivery package (both of which could have saved me from this stalking crisis). But when I opened the door, what I saw was a "catastrophe" I wouldn't trade for any torture device in the seven levels of Hell.
It was Tyler. But that Tyler... The typical fn-ckboy prototype that every girl encounters at least once and asks herself.
"Did this guy really ruin my life?" He was wearing that too-tight t-shirt that said "I just came from the gym but actually only took mirror selfies," those pointless sunglasses he wore like he was saving the world, and that "I can manipulate you anytime" smirk...
Tyler was the biggest "waste of time" that could happen to a woman.
Like something you want so badly, buy it, and then get home thinking: "Why did I spend so much money on this? And I can't even return it!"
Tyler was exactly that defective product.
"Hey Babe, You Busy?"
" Madison..." he said, leaning against the doorframe in his signature 'I'm so cool' pose. "I know I didn't text for 4 hours, but my phone died, and then a friend's hamster got sick, so we had to take him to the vet... It was a pretty dramatic night."
Sure, Jan, I thought. The second your phone dies, your connection to the world is severed; you can't breathe without posting a story! But then I noticed: Tyler's image was flickering. The butterfly effect Astaroth mentioned was already causing pixels at his edges. The man was about to turn into a low-resolution YouTube video and he had no idea.
"And?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Why are you here, Tyler? You left me on read and now you're at my door? Is this your new tactic?"
"Well, actually," he said, running a hand through his hair and giving me his most innocent look (which usually meant he either got into a fight or wanted something from me). "I'm in a bit of a squeeze, you know? I got into that new crypto thing, and the money is stuck. Do you have a few hundred bucks? I swear, I'll pay you back next week when my ad revenue kicks in. Also... can I borrow the keys to your Mini Cooper? Mine's overdue for inspection, and I don't want to get pulled over."
"I'm Sorry, Are You a Joke?"
Astaroth's roar echoed in my brain.
The world is burning, Madison! The Nobel-winning surgeon is dying, Madison!
And this man, this "glitch" that the fate of humanity depended on, was here asking for both my money and my car—the car I treat like my baby. And with that "I'm so cute, you can't say no" attitude!
The ancient witch inside me woke up instantly. The Madison who was burned at the stake, the one left at the altar... she wanted to shove those sunglasses into his brain.
"Money and the car?" I said, with fake politeness. "Wow, Tyler... You're a real visionary. I'm out here grinding at the gates of Hell, arguing with Lords for you, and you come here asking for an allowance. What for? To take that blonde girl out to dinner with my money?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Maddy," Tyler said, stepping closer and trying to put his hand on my waist. "I told you, she's just my cousin. Besides, don't you love me? Is our bond going to break over a few hundred dollars?"
I realized something. The dark spark Astaroth gave me was still at my fingertips. Tyler's existence depended on my "curse" and my vow. If I broke it, the world would be saved, but I had no intention of keeping Tyler in this universe without making him pay for this audacity.
"Fine, Tyler." I said, a devious smile forming. "I'll give you the money and the car. But on one condition. You're going to sit at this Ouija board and say a 'prayer of thanks' with me. But not just any prayer... You'll get on your knees and shout: 'I am the world's biggest jerk.' If you say it with feeling, my wallet is yours."
Tyler rolled his eyes. "Maddy, not your spirit-summoning nonsense again. Fine, let's just do it and get it over with. I'm in a hurry."
The moment he said "I'm in a hurry," he didn't see Astaroth's shadow looming behind him. He had no clue about Gabriel's white silhouette glowing like a ceiling lamp. When Tyler knelt, he wasn't just asking for money; he was signing the "bargain" clause of his own death warrant.
"Go on, Tyler." I whispered in his ear. " Say it. 'I am a mortal wretch and I am not worthy of Madison's love.'"
Madison's room was now a "cosmic chaos kitchen." In one corner, Archangel Gabriel stood like a "divine traffic cop" in his white suit, trying to hold Tyler's pixelating body together with his glowing staff. In the other, the Lord of Hell, Astaroth, watched with a devious pleasure, waiting to see what Madison would do to this narcissistic "mortal wretch."
Gabriel struck his staff; the lightbulbs flickered as if saying "Amen."
"Madison! Time is running out! Either make this guy say the holy words and break your vow, or stay eternally in Astaroth's bureaucratic Hell with a stack of forms in your hand!"