Most people would sell their soul for it: fame, fortune, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Joseph wasn’t like most people though. You see, he had all that in spades. But unlike most people, Jo really had sold his soul.

Not to Satan. Satan was a pussy, a fantasy. Mathusta, however, was real, old, powerful and evil. The kind of evil that words do not exist to describe.

Jo snorted a line of coke that would kill a normal man, washing it down with Crown straight from the bottle. No glass tonight. Ready.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, rubbing coke from his nose. One word to describe him… beautiful. It had made sure of that.

The razor blade bit in deep, then ran from wrist to elbow. “Goddam!” It hurt, even through the haze of coke and alcohol.

A shaky hand repeated the process on the other arm, blood splattered everywhere.

Maybe this time… He thought as he felt his life slipping away.