Madam Savior

*Note from Author* Cult and poison references, corpse references, depiction of being dragged to 'Hell'

Rules of man are flimsy and ultimately uncaring. The notion of morals are forever changing depending on who is of higher power, so it hardly ever stays in the minds of those not of our realm. For insistence, the now popular notion of a person under the arbitrary age of eighteen being unable to sell their soul as they themselves are unconsenting property. Of course, demons do not have to abide by these rules to a point. What is occurring is the conversation of souls only tied by the pain of the vessel and the near end of their term, which depending could be lengthened in exchange for the sweet little thing they harbor.

If another human, an ‘adult’, contests the signing, a demon will have to hold off. Irritating, but humans made a rule for us out of stupidity. If a human adult were to ever argue about the validity of a contract upon a minor’s signing, the demon must have the adult’s soul in exchange as it took quite some effort to get to its plane of existence. Without the soul, the demon is humorously forced to stay until the minor’s coming of age or near the brink of death to have the audience of Azrael to receive its soul. A lot of trouble, but by then the human adult’s ownance of the soul is mute.

It all has to do with time.

“Step an inch closer and I’ll throw this bucket of salt at you!” The adult contesting to the contract at this moment had no ties to the beaten child. She was merely a survivor of the cult surrounding them, as was the girl the demon had delightfully taken the name of: Myopia Creek. A sweet name that would go lovely with the rest of the souls the demon possessed. The adult though, she was smart in not divulging her name to it. 

“Whoever you are, you barely understand what is occurring. Myopia here is sick from the drink, maybe to her deathbed! I’m here to help and you…well, you had a quarter of a mind to stop.”

“She’s alright! You’re alright, right?” Myopia hadn’t turned blue or cold like the rest. Her stomach was twisted and had a bit of delirium, but was still relatively in the room. 

“Besides, she called me. What are you doing?” The demon laughed.

“You cannot have a little girl sign that stupid contract!”

“Then you wish for her to die?”

“NO!” The adult seethed, throwing salt at the toes of the demon. It burned a layer of skin, much less than that of blessed salt but still a horrid experience. Myopia cried out at the demon's pain, biting the strange woman and running to it to comfort it. She sang a little song of blowing the pain away as she wrapped up the demon’s feet; pain, pain, go away…

“If I write my name, I’ll go live with my papa, right?” The little girl cried.

“Not anymore,” The demon said, “That woman over there has made our contract invalid with her presence. Now she must sign or I will wait for you until you turn eighteen. Right, Miss? Is that good for you? To wait nine years, six months, and twenty-two days for Myopia to see her father without interference, to be loved by him until his dying days, and for her to live happily until the end of hers? Must she spend her nine years now suffering in the system that cares only for the interests of an idea that will only sour?”

“We will not go to Hell!”

“What is hell?” The demon took its feet into its hands and stared at the woman. With her face contorted in a strange manner, the demon shook its head at her and gave its contract to Myopia.

“Can I sign it now?”

“No. Either get our witness to or another ‘adult’. Either trick them or beg them, I don’t care, as I will still grant your wish either way.”

“Really?”

“Really, Myopia Creek.” Upon her taking it completely in her hands, the demon was taken into the lettering of the contract to live out most of its time on our plane. Torturous or no, no one truly knows. Myopia thought so.

She took a handful of salt and threw it at the woman. She hadn’t burned like the demon did, so Myopia took a nearly empty cup from a resting body and gave it to the woman. She didn’t take it, only stared with a face much more contorted than what she had shown to the demon. Fear, wasn’t it? But the girl hadn’t cared, throwing the drink at her with a swift motion.

“S-stop that! You're safe from that thing!” The woman yelled, “Besides, there’s a reason your dad didn’t get you. I heard you got some grandparents outside of the compound. Your mom got a lot of money from them to go here! You’ll be like a princess.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know I just saved you.” The woman gave out her hand to the girl, ready to take it into hers and walk out of the tent and into the blinding light of the new day. Myopia spat at the hand. Up she went, running around the tent and checking the sleepers for anyone on the brink, kicking and screaming all around without a care for the dead. Insanity, the woman thought, getting up herself to live out her life without others telling her what to do, though in her plight, it was a strange comfort she would always fall for. True freedom beyond wherever her puny soul would take her to be twisted and squeezed, but at least she was a hero.

“Yes, sign here and here,” Myopia directed. The woman quickly turned around to see the demon back and standing above both the girl and a man covered in vomit. He signs the deal with no problem, then a hand reaches out from behind him to cradle his head.

“Thank you for giving your soul to Myopia Creek, Charles Drew. She will use your gift wisely.” Another and another hand came out from the ground, caressing him softly and pulling him into the depths of the earth to rest. Other than the interferer’s gasp, only the tweets of the birds covered up the settlement of the ground.

The demon took Myopia’s hand and began to walk out of the tent.

“Now she will not be abandoned nor hurt,” It said with a cackle.