There’s nothing more intoxicating than glory. When someone praises, or even just recognizes your hard work, everything in the world doesn’t matter at that moment. I’ve tried many drugs in my career, not one has reached a high like that.
I’m a retired boxer, with a professional record of 6 wins and 2 losses. Winning 6 fights in a row fueled my already bad ego. Those were my peak years. The years where nothing else mattered in the world but hard work and glory—no time for friends or family.
My last two fights crushed my ego. They were both losses. I trained my ass off for them, but it wasn’t enough. Everything, and I mean everything, went downhill from there. I snapped out of the trance glory had me in and realized I lost everyone close to me. Except my mother. She stuck with me, thick and thin.
One night, after spending all day at a bar drowning out my sorrows, I decided to call an Uber. A dark red SUV pulled up to the side of the road and I hopped in. It was as if I was teleported to another dimension. The leather seats were black with red stitching. All windows were tinted to the point where nothing but faint outside lights were visible. From the rear-view mirror mounted on the windshield, caramel colored eyes glared at me.
“You’re Alex,” the woman in the driver’s seat said, “right?”
“Y-Yup,” I slurred.
“Sweet, let’s get going.” She stuck the gear in drive, merging into busy traffic. “Apologies in advance. It’s gonna be a long drive. On my way here, some people got into an accident.”
“No worries.”
She looked at me from the mirror again, holding eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time. After a minute or so, she spoke up, “Sorry for staring, it’s just… you look familiar.”
“Alex, the ‘golden boy’,” I said with a sigh.
“That’s right! I know I’ve seen you somewhere.”
I leaned back in my seat, getting out of her view, and rolled my eyes. I knew she was gonna follow it up with, Can I get a picture? Or something along those lines. But what she said next practically sobered me up…
“You sucked. From your first professional fight, it was obvious. Another wannabe fighter stepping into big boy land with a fueled ego.” She giggled. “A loss was bound to happen.”
Silence filled the car. My own beating heart was audible. I retracted into my mind like a turtle, thinking over my entire career. She was right, I thought. I sucked. I was never anything special.
“Dude, I’m joking,” she said after a while, with a laugh. “Lighten up. I’m not even a boxing fan. I just saw your face on YouTube.”
“Oh,” I said, forcing an artificial laugh out of my lips.
We slowed to a stop at a red light. She took the chance to turn back and see me without looking through a mirror. Her eyes scanned me, so I scanned her. Her hair was a silky black, which cascaded down to a pentagram necklace around her neck.
My eyebrow shot up.
“Don’t like what you see?”
“N-No, it’s just—”
“Ah, my necklace, huh?”
I nodded.
“Understandable,” she said with a smirk. “To each their own.” The light turned green, and she spun back around, stepping on the pedal lightly. “What do you believe in?”
“I’m not very religious anymore. As a child I was a catholic, but I gradually stopped attending church. I guess I’m still a bit catholic?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” She said, noticing my indecisiveness.
“I’m in between, I guess. I don’t know.”
“I see.” She took a left turn down my street. “You feel betrayed by your ‘God’, is that right?”
Hesitantly, I nodded. At the time, it was the truth. I couldn’t believe God let me lose. I used to pray every time before a fight and it worked… Right up until my 7th fight.
“Not to sound like one of those brainwashed satanists, but Satan will never betray you.” She slowed the car to a stop by my shitty apartment and turned back to face me. “Selling your soul is not as bad as people make it out to be. All he wants is praise. Just like the rest of us, really. In return, he can give you all your golden heart desires.”
Just wants praise? I repeated in my mind. I wasn’t contemplating joining her cult or anything, but I was really curious to learn more. “How does one even sell their soul? I keep hearing people talk about some sort of ritual… Do you kill people?”
She stared at me, unblinking.
Finally, she spoke up, in an artificial tone, “Oh no, that’s just a myth.” She giggled. “You know how people gossip and myths spread. All you really do is pray to him, just like any other God.” She leaned closer. “I can teach you, golden boy.”
Something about her demeanor comforted me. The way she looked at me… It was as if she and I were the only two people in the world. This close up, she was intoxicating.
Some headlights shining in the distance made me snap out of it. I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. “Uhh, I’ll have to take some time to think about it,” I stammered. “Thanks for the lift.”
I went to reach for the door handle, but she placed her cold palm on my forearm.
Chills shot up my spine. Goosebumps formed all over my forearm. She noticed and smirked.
“Make sure to give me a 5 star review.” She grinned.
“Uh, yeah, sure, thanks again.”
After that light night conversation, I pushed her to the back of my mind and sort of forgot about her.
Overtime, my mental health slowly got better. I attended therapy, multiple sessions. I even repaired an old friendship with my best and only friend from highschool, Matt. Matt grew up with a wealthy family. We were polar opposites as far as social class. But that didn’t stop us from kicking it off when we met. It was as if he was my other half.
When I was on top of the world, boxing-wise, I lost touch with him. Part of me felt extremely bad and missed his presence. When I heard that his father died recently, I knew I had to repair our friendship and be there for him.
We exchanged a few texts and saw there was still chemistry. So, we arranged a date to meet. Days passed and our meeting date came up.
I pulled up into the Starbucks parking lot, where we had arranged to meet. It was a Monday morning, almost every spot was taken. It took me about three loops around the parking lot to finally find one. I parked and hopped out of my beat-up Honda, walking towards the building.
I wore a casual outfit: White sneakers, blue jeans, and a white shirt to match. Since this was a richer part of town, most people wore extravagant clothing. Some people wore tailored suits to match their body. Others took a more flamboyant route with multi-colored clothes and blocky shoes that just passed being absurd.
I should’ve picked a better outfit, I thought as I entered the building.
The smell of fresh coffee beans soothed my nostrils, giving me a high as I scanned the room. I was never much of a coffee guy but didn’t mind the second hand coffee rush. I fixed my gaze to the corner, where two people, male and female, sat drinking some coffee. I’d recognize that buzz cut and those thick eyebrows anywhere, Matt.
I approached the table. Matt looked up at me with his green eyes and smiled. He stood to hug me. “I missed ya,” he said.
“I missed you too.”
I sat across from them, smiling like a fool. My eyes were fixed on Matt. I realized then just how much I really missed him. He wore a casual black shirt with a Rolex watch sparking on his wrist. In my peripheral vision, I saw his girlfriend had silky blonde hair.
“Alex, this is my fiance, Arabella.”
I quickly glanced at his fiance and smiled, trying not to seem rude. Her caramel colored eyes made me do a double take. She seemed to recognize me as well the way her eyes widened. I looked down at her neck. Instead of that pentagram necklace I remembered so clearly, she wore a necklace with MS. Matt’s initials.
“You two know each other?” Matt shot up an eyebrow, examining me.
“Uh, we—”
“We met before. When I used to work as an Uber,” she said, cutting me off.
“Ohh!” He said, “You worked as an Uber? You never told me that story.”
Arabella smiled awkwardly. “It’s not one I like telling.”
“Matt, how you holding up?” I asked.
“Best I can, given the circumstance.” His eyes drooped like a sad puppy. Arabella caressed his cheek.
“I’m here for you, man.” I said, “Anything you need—”
“He needs time to mourn his loss,” said Arabella.
I didn’t acknowledge her. “Matt?”
He looked at Arabella, then at me. “Yes, gotcha. Thanks,” he said.
“So, Alex. Why come back now?”
I looked at Arabella, her eyes glared at me. “W-What do you mean?”
“Matt told me when you were a ‘golden boy’ you stopped—”
“It’s okay,” said Matt. “I’m glad he’s back and better now.”
Arabella whispered something inaudible in his ear. I did make out one hushed word, though. “…inheritance…”
“Everything good?” I asked.
“Golden,” said Arabella with a smirk.
Matt stood up. Arabella stood after him. “It was nice catching up with you, Alex, but I’ve really got to go.”
I stood up awkwardly. “No problem. Real quick, before you go, can I talk to you in private?” I could feel Arabella’s gaze digging into me.
Matt looked at her, as if seeking confirmation. “…Yeah, sure.”
We walked to the back of the building, into a narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms. I stopped, looking back at Arabella, who had her arms crossed, then at Matt, who looked as fragile as an egg.
“Matt, what I’m gonna tell you may sound crazy but hear me out—”
“I know,” he said, averting eye contact.
“…Know what?”
“I’m not stupid, Alex. I could tell just by the way you looked at her.”
“Wait, what do you think you know?”
“You hooked up with her when you were in your ‘golden days’, huh?”
I looked at him with my head tilted in confusion. “What? No, I—”
“I don’t blame you. Or her. I mean, you were the golden boy. What woman wouldn’t want a piece of that glory?”
“Matt, no. That’s not it. Plus, that’s all behind me. I’m not that man anymore.”
“Really?” He said in a sarcastic tone. “Oh wow, it’s all behind you. My old best friend is not the glory chaser anymore. He totally didn’t repair our friendship because he heard my father left me an inheritance. No, he truly cares for me.” He scoffed.
“Matt… I’m sorry for abandoning you. I was selfish, okay? For once in my pathetic fucking life, I got attention. You know how intoxicating that was? I truly did and still do, value our friendship. I don’t give a shit about whatever you inherited. Just hear me out. There’s something you need to know about Arabella. She’s not who she says she is—”
“I know exactly what she is!” Matt’s voice reverberated down the narrow hallway and into the lobby. People went silent and stared at us for a second before getting back to their chatter. Matt continued in a hushed voice, “I know what she is, and she’s gonna help me.”
Matt’s eyes were rabid.
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. I wanted to tell him a trillion things right then and there, but he was walking away. Shrinking down the hall.
“M-Matt!” I managed to stammer, “Help you… with what?”
He stopped just where the hallway ended, and the rest of the lobby began. He turned around to face me. Arabella was barely visible in the distance behind Matt. I knew she was smirking—I just knew.
I looked back at Matt and for a second I could’ve sworn his eyes turned blood red. “She’s gonna help me bring back my father.”
***
Matt and Arabella left the Starbucks about 4 hours ago. I stayed behind scrolling through old satanist forums and websites. I’m looking for something, anything, to help me get my friend back. I don’t want him to do something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. I know how bad regret is.
I’m typing my experience here, on Reddit. I need help. If anyone has any advice on what to do, please let me know. I’ll stick around here for a few more hours, since I don’t have wifi at my apartment. The only plan I have so far is… you know, getting rid of Arabella.
I really don’t want to have to do that, but if push comes to shove, I will. Matt means the world to me and I don’t wanna lose him again.
I’ll do whatever the top comment tells me to do and then, well, I’ll update you all tomorrow. Wish me luck.