Wilhelmina, Bride of the Devil

Black Friday takes on a whole new meaning when one is marrying the devil. Wilhelmina didn’t have to wonder what to do with her hands during the ceremony, because as soon as her father (damn him to hell) had finished signing the contract that exchanged her chastity for his financial freedom, the devil had snatched it off the table and stuffed it in her palm. “You’re mine now, pet,” he had leered at her almost as a taunt, and then he’d turned and left the room with her father. 

She had sat there for a moment, gathering her mind and listening to the quiet of the room. Everything was going so fast. She opened the contract up to the first page. There were so many terms and conditions that the document’s pages had actually been presented on the table as a bound leather book. At first sight, she had thought it a small diary, but then the devil had come in and insisted that they go through the whole book page by page, so as to ensure there would be no loopholes and no misunderstandings. Wilhelmina guessed that he had been taken a fool in times before by people who had found ways around his contracts, and thus had no desire to leave any room for doubt. 

As contracts went, this one seemed to be fairly straightforward. Wilhelmina’s father, much like the other men in town, had numerous financial troubles. His debts always seemed to come in the way of his responsibilities, drinking and gambling and prostitutes being so tempting as pastimes go. And even though she didn’t know anybody else who had sold their soul to the devil, Wilhelmina had always heard that it was a thing that people did, and so she could understand the concept easily enough when her father had confessed the deal to her. He had simply decided that the best way to get out of his troubles would be to sell her off, and seeing as she had not up to that point added much in the way of lucrative assets to his estate (being 45 and unmarried and all), he didn’t think she’d mind being the focus of the deal. The contract laid the terms out clearly. There would be a wedding, after which Wilhelmina would be taken to the dwelling place of the devil to live with him throughout eternity as his bride. In exchange, her father would be given a clean slate of debts and could go about his business in the town. He confessed he thought it probably a good enough deal for an unmarried spinster such as herself, as long as one didn’t mind being married to the most evil creature that ever walked the Earth. 

The addendums and clauses and postscripts in the contract were numerous. There would be no backing out of this arrangement. The marriage was set, regardless of consent. She could not divorce, she could not leave, and she could not even end her own life to abandon the arrangement if she found herself unhappy. The devil had clearly thought of all stipulations ahead of time. But Wilhelmina was not bothered by this - she was as calm as any bride might be on their wedding day - delighted, even. It might seem an odd thing, to be eager to enter such an arrangement, but Wilhelmina understood something deeply personal that she believed would be her saving grace and get her out of the marriage eventually. All she would have to do would be to love him. 

Men always left her when she loved them. The world was full of men who didn’t want her - she’d seen maybe twenty such men this week as she was out doing holiday shopping, and thought about what it would take to make them her own. As holidays go, Black Friday was not one of Wilhelmina’s favorites. She didn’t care for shopping anyway, and the rosy glow of Christmas time always seemed to make the mood more romantic than she could bear. Happy couples everywhere would be sharing hot chocolates, buying each other gifts, holding hands - and even though she knew that they weren’t doing those things in front of her on purpose, it always felt personal, like they were rubbing her face in it. “HAHA, we’re in love and you’re ALONE!” At age 47, she was the oldest woman she knew who was not yet married. Not that she hadn’t tried! Wilhelmina had been in love so many times it was almost a parody at this point. She had so much love to give, and fell so hard for the few men that had courted her. She was a passionate woman and she just couldn’t understand why her lovers never stayed around very long. 

The irony of entering into a contractual relationship was not lost on Wilhelmina, but she still didn’t hold much faith that this creature would stay even with the signatures in place. She would open her heart and allow heartbreak one final time, after which she would see to her father’s ruin and that of every other man on this god-forsaken planet. She set her jaw and raised her eyes to gaze at her groom. The devil was handsome - of course he was. A square jaw, strong eyebrows, and eyes that pierced through her and made her catch her breath with fear. He grinned when he sensed her fright, leaning in towards her ear and whispering “It’s already done, pet. Scream if you like, nobody is coming to save you.” 

Wilhelmina decided that the devil looked cute when he was scaring her. What a sweet boy, trying to frighten his bride. It clearly gave him a lot of joy, so she played along. She scrunched up her shoulders and cowered away, whimpering. He yanked her by her wrists back up to the altar. Ooooh, he was strong. She grinned at him, and was rewarded with a momentary look of confusion before she remembered herself and arranged her face back to a worried pout. 

The next two weeks were the best of Wilhelmina’s life. In the morning, her demons-in-waiting would tear her from bed and thrust her into a fiery shower, where she would enjoy the first long stretch of hot water she’d been given since she was a child. Her father was always draining the hot water tank long before she’d got there. The skin on her back would pulse a not-unpleasant inflamed red as she stepped out and donned her clothes for the day. Sometimes her skin would slough right off, but the better to enjoy the nippy cold of the stone floors and benches. 

After this, she would be afforded a long day of leisure on her own, seeing as her spouse was so busy with tempting humans and torturing the dead. She often found herself humming a little bit to herself as she listened to the musical screams and shrieks coming from their basement and sampled bits and pieces of the offal that would appear on demand whenever she was hungry. She felt a strong sense of pride in her husband’s work - imagine, humble old her being married to such an important creature. 

In the evenings, she would be shuffled along back to the bedchamber to await her better half. That first evening, she had to admit to herself, her sense of trepidity had been at its highest. After all, this was the King of Hell we were talking about. She had never been truly tortured before (unless you counted 47 years of washing her father’s disgusting sweatsocks and listening to his unembarrassed farts at all hours of the day). But a curious thing had happened in that first intimate encounter. Based on his behavior at the altar, Wilhelmina had been expecting this person, this brute, to injure her in some way in order to get his pleasure. She had mentally steeled herself for it, knowing that no matter how bad it got, he would not kill her (at least so sayeth the contract). He had entered the room and looked at her with such lust in his eyes that she had sat up a little straighter in anticipation. He carried a threatening-looking dagger, bejeweled with crimson rubies and the blackest onyx. She wondered if she was about to be skinned alive. The devil, looking directly into her eyes, had approached the bed, slamming the door behind him with such fury that the walls rattled. 

But then Wilhelmina opened her mouth and spoke to him. “Oh my,” she breathed. “You’re so strong. What a big strong thing you are!” And then she leaned in to kiss him right on the forehead, right between his adorable little white horns. And with that simple reaction, Wilhelmina broke the devil. He took a few steps backwards and put his hands up as if to ward her off. She sat there quietly while he evaluated her. She pushed her bosoms forward to look as attractive as possible while he looked her carefully up and down. “Well?” She finally said. “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?”

At this question, the devil, who didn’t quite know how else to respond, turned and left the room. He closed the door firmly in Wilhelmina’s face, to which she squealed “Oh! A game of hide and seek!” and hurried to the vanity to touch up her makeup for their inevitable reunion. 

For a fortnight, Wilhelmina pursued her love. She begged his minions to tell her where he was, and when she caught up to him, she would pepper him with attention, fawning over his strong muscles and fluttering her eyelashes at him in a coy attempt to flirt. It was what she had always done with her boyfriends in the past, having been taught that above all, men love attention. This was always the thing that made the men leave her - she would center her world around them and ever find them fleeing.  And thus it was, with this creature - once he found his conquest to be “into it”, he utterly and completely lost interest. 

The fifteenth day of their as-yet unconsummated marriage, a demon in a tight suit and trousers entered Wilhelmina’s room with a single piece of golden paper - an annulment document. Sadly, she took the item and tucked it away in a pocket. She had known her plan would work, but somehow it still stung. There was no man who would be with her, for all her fawning and attention. She traveled home to the house she shared with her father. He didn’t see her enter, and he didn’t see what she carried with her - a ruby-and-onyx-encrusted dagger. It wouldn't matter. Nobody paid attention to her father either.