Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

Rebecca smirked, but didn’t say another word as Carolyn resumed her lead to the donut bar.

It looked pretty good when it came into view. A flashing sign lit up with big yellow lightbulbs over outdoor tables, busy but not overcrowded, which was a good sign for this time of year.

I’d seen it before, I must have. Seen it but not really noticed it alongside the arcade.

I took a seat after Carolyn, opting for a place next to her as her sister grabbed a chair opposite.

A waiter came straight over from the main counter, scoping out Rebecca’s cleavage as he handed out the menus. It was when my eyes were properly on the options that I realised this place was a little bit more than a donut bar.

It did donuts, sure. Plenty of them too. And cocktails. It did cocktails. Everything from alcoholic milkshakes through to weird juice combinations with crazy names.

No wonder Rebecca Lane claimed the donuts were better from this venue.

“Drinks?” the waiter prompted, and I made myself focus.

Rebecca jumped right into her order without even looking at the menu – an extravagant-sounding cocktail which made the waiter smile. Carolyn went for a simple milkshake with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s a weeknight,” she said. “I’m being good for tomorrow’s lectures. We can’t all be like you and get trashed every night.”

I should have opted to be a good girl too, but Rebecca’s smirk dared me to follow. Fuck it. I ordered the same as her.

“Nice choice,” Rebecca told me as the waiter moved out of earshot. “Which is a good thing since I’d damn well hope you’re a bit of a boundary pusher.”

Carolyn’s voice came in fast. “Maybe she’s not a boundary pusher at all and will have enough sense to heed your stories as nightmares.”

Rebecca’s smirk didn’t waver. “I’m pretty sure she’s made up her mind already. Am I right?”

Both girls stared at me. I hoped my makeup would go part way at least towards hiding my flush.

“I’m, um… curious,” I said. “The more insight, the better. I’m really grateful you could make time for me.”

Rebecca tipped her head. “I’ll make all the time you need from me, but I’ll ask it again. You’ve made up your mind already, right? You’re gonna cash in by selling your body and soul to the filthy man who promises to make it worth it.” Her laugh was colder than I was expecting. “Oh believe me, he’ll make it worth it. Don’t you worry.”

“Don’t listen to this side of her crap,” Carolyn countered. “Sometimes she cries all night long and sleeps with the light on. Nothing could make it worth it, not for the shit he’ll do to you.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you were saying when I took you shopping for a whole new wardrobe a few weeks back.”

Carolyn’s cheeks darkened in a beat. I rushed to her aid by clearing my throat and pulling the attention back to me.

“I’m really keen on the sound of the money,” I told them. “Student life is hard. My home life isn’t really flush for cash. My sister has got herself into a bit of financial difficulty.” I stopped that train of conversation right there.

“Keen enough for the money to put yourself through all that pain?” Carolyn asked.

“To put myself through whatever pays the most,” I answered, and shrugged as the waiter headed over with our drinks.

I took a decent sip of mine and hoped it calmed my pounding heart a little.

Rebecca was looking right at me when my eyes flicked back to hers.

“He pays the most for a reason,” she said, and her tone eased off on the brashness somehow. “I mean, I don’t regret it. Not for a second. But Carolyn’s right, this shit isn’t easy. They’ll push you past limits you never even dreamed of.” She leaned closer to the table and her voice lowered. “You’ll be scared. Terrified. Seriously fucking shitting it for your life and your fucking sanity with no idea where you even are or how long you’ve been there.”

I nodded. “I get it. Carolyn told me so.”

She shook her head right back. “Carolyn told you so, sure. But Carolyn wasn’t there. I was. I was there for every fucked-up minute of it.”

The stare between us was heavy enough that my stomach flipped.

There was a realism in her eyes that wasn’t available in any of the rumours around campus, nor even in the stories Carolyn had whispered over donuts.

You couldn’t escape it. The knowing. The full weight of the truth that she’d lived in sixty days of pain and terror.

And more. More than the bad.

“You’ve met him, right?” she asked.

“The guy on the profile picture?” I paused. “Yeah, I met him. I guess he’s the main guy.”

Her eyes dropped to her cocktail. “He’s more than the main guy. He’s everything. God, the Devil… every filthy nightmare the world’s ever fucking seen.”