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Theback of my head bangs against the tree.Igo cross-eyed for a split second untilIblink a few times.

Ablack gloved hand slips aroundTy’sthroat.

Hehollers as he flies through the air, landing with athud.Shadowsmove and block my view.

Myeyes refocus on the man in all black right in front of me.Tearscloud my vision at the sulfur flooding my sinuses and the cowboy hat topping his head.

“Whatdo you want?”Idemand in a thin voice.

Hesnatches me by the neck and tosses me forward likeIweigh hardly any more than cotton candy, forcing me to the warm ground where crisp grass bites into my knees.

Groaning,Ilift my head.

Thebridge stands over the dry creek bed, not at all destroyed and fully intact.

Mybrows furrow in confusion.AfterIsnuck out here withRobbiewhen we first moved to the property,Iremember them tearing it down because…

BecauseIsaw a scary man in a cowboy hat who wanted me to play on the bridge.

Ishudder at the memory of him curling his gloved finger, telling me to join him on the bridge.

IswearIcan hear someone yelling, calling my name.

WhenIblink,Iremember what happened:Istepped onto the rickety old wood bridge, unable to resist the devil’s call, even asRobbiescreamed my name.

Ahand wraps around my jaw and tilts my face upward.

Thefigure above me is menacing, enshrouded in even more black than the darkness of night setting in all around us.Hegrins, flashing razor-sharp teeth.

Alarmbells and screams of bloody murder reverberate in my head, warning me to fight to get far away from the devil and his bridge.

“Youremember me,” the devil purrs in a deep timbre.

Tearsfall freely, cascading down my cheeks asItremble. “W-what do you want?”

Hisgloved hand moves, leather creaking as his fingers slip around my throat. “Iwant whatI’mowed,” he pronounces in an eerily gentle, firm tone.

Aquiet sob passes my lips.Mychest shudders from the tension. “Idon’t owe you anything!”

Hisgrip tightens. “Youmusicians always think that.”

“Ididn’t make a deal with my soul!”Ishriek.

Helifts me into the air, dangling me by the throat. “That’sthe problem,” he growls. “Itseems my right hand thought he could fool me.SoI’mhere to collect myself.”

Hottears stream down my cheeks asIstruggle against my bounds, desperate to rip my hands free and run from the devil.

Hethrottles my neck. “Giveme your soul, or you are fuckingdead.”

Aharrowing sob falls from my lips.There’sno way out—no matter howItry to reason in my mind, the devil has me and won’t let go.

Ifall from his grasp, sobbing and coughing, curling in on myself. “Ican’t…Ican’t…”

Hisarm raises, ready to strike.

“WAIT, wait!”Ishriek, recoiling and falling onto my side in an attempt to get away.

Hisarm drops, clearly impatient with my stalling.