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The weeks after the funeral were a total whirlwind. Garrett left some enormous shoes to fill at Tophat Marketing Services. They didn’t waste a moment promoting me, the current Vice President of Sales, to jump in and fill his vacancy.

TMS was a bit heartless about the whole thing. They just sent me an email on the day of the funeral, saying that effective immediately, I was to step into the role. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

My days started at four am and were filled with budget meetings and client conference calls. As hectic as it all was, I was grateful for the distraction.

Researching crossroads demon lore sent me down one rabbit hole after another, and any remaining skepticism melted away, story by story, night after night.

I reached out to our old friends and Garrett’s travel companions, Mikey and Frank, back home in Pennsylvania.

I was trying to get as much out of them as I could about what transpired that night at the desolate bar.

Mikey wasn’t any help at all. He says he was too drunk to remember much more than Garrett leaving the bar briefly. He didn’t even ask me why I wanted to know. I wasn’t surprised by his disinterest. In our little social group, I was the least close to him.

Frank was more helpful. After apologizing for missing the funeral, I filled him in on everything.

Having always been very pragmatic, it didn’t surprise me when he laughed at my belief in the demon story.

Frank’s a police detective, and I wouldn’t expect any different reaction from a cop.

He said that people are evil enough without pushing supernatural nonsense into the fray.

But at least, despite his disbelief, he was gracious enough to recall a few details of the night, like the crazy-eyed man at the bar, and the general direction they traveled from Jackson to get there.

But that was pretty much it. He told me to call if I needed more help, wished me luck, and left it at that.

Most nights, I crawl into bed around one, but struggle to fall asleep. My thoughts spin in a constant argument with myself about whether I should just drop the whole thing and move on with life, or continue in my quest for Garrett’s retribution.

According to my limited research, a demon can be killed, and the process sounds simple enough. But I worry if there is any truth to the internet theories, or if it came down to facing one, would I chicken out and run? And then what?

Do I really have what it takes to summon, much less kill, a demon?

After struggling with those questions, my thoughts drift over to Garrett.

His smiling face flashes in my mind’s eye, and sadness mixes in with my anger.

He was just a stupid kid when he made that deal.

A stupid drunk kid. In one moment of complete ignorant lunacy, he made a grave mistake.

And the demon took advantage of him, a transgression that can’t be unpunished.

So, each night I conclude the argument with a hard truth: It’s up to me alone to make that creature pay.

Lying awake in the darkness, I miss my friend. I never pictured my world without him in it. He encouraged me in everything I’ve ever done, was my rock when my mom died, and always had time for me, no matter how important he became or how hectic his life was.

Friends like him only come once in a lifetime, and that was stolen from me. From both of us. My sadness is a weight almost too heavy to bear.

Tonight is no different. As they usually do, my shifting thoughts have led me deeper into my resolve to slay the demon that took him. And now I know it’s time to put my plan into action.

I’ll need to rent a car. I know how to drive, and thankfully, I’ve kept my license current for the occasional work trip.

But living in the city, I have never required a car.

The supplies needed for my supernatural hunt have been ordered and are due to arrive by Thursday.

I will call out sick on Friday and make my way down to Jackson.

If all goes to plan, on Saturday night, I get to kill myself a demon.

There will be hell to pay.