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When you first meet the Devil, you are 8 years old. He sort of looks like…

- - - - When you meet the Devil again, he looks like your 8th grade teacher.
        You are asked to go to his class after school. When you get there, that unfamiliar feeling is back, and you realize that this is not Mr. Oscar.
        "Ah. You've noticed." Not-Mr. Oscar tells you.
        "I'm back, friend. I've come to make a deal."
        Before you can hear him out on what his 'deal' is, you feel compelled to ask him a question.
        
        "Why did you come back now?"
        
        The devil laughs at your question.
        "Have you forgotten, friend?"
        He prepares the necessities as he talks - the paper and the pen.
        "When you were but just a little kid, you didn't know what you wanted. But it's different now. You have something you want, don't you?"
        The answer doesn't quite satisfy you, but he isn't wrong. You're in 8th grade now. You have an understanding on desires and wants. And you...
        
        ...want your crush to like you.
        
        It seems a bit too cliche to make a deal with the devil for love, but you had no idea how they felt, and the Devil was here now. If you confessed, there was no way that you'd know that they felt the same way. What if they really were the one, and by getting rejected, you just lost the chance to be with your soulmate for the rest of your life?
        His smile was unsettling as he leaned on the desk.
        "Made your decision?"
        As you stare, your options run through your head.
        
        You sign the contract.
        
        You refuse.
        
        ...want to succeed in life.
        
        Your grades hadn't been quite what you liked lately. If you really wanted to get into that highschool you wanted to get into, and later the college you want to get into, you'd need a sort of guarentee that you'd be able to. The Devil was offering, so...
        His smile was unsettling as he leaned on the desk.
        "Made your decision?"
        As you stare, your options run through your head.
        
        You refuse.
        
        You sign the contract.
        
        ...want to be rich.
        
        Who didn't? Let's be real: you were a relatively obscure 8th grader with an average life. While this meant that you didn't need to struggle for what you needed, you did need to struggle for what you wanted. Friends, toys, prosperity - all that would be easy if you just had money.
        His smile was unsettling as he leaned on the desk.
        "Made your decision?"
        As you stare, your options run through your head.
        
        You refuse.
        
        You sign the contract.
        
        "Why did you choose me?"
- - - - Whatever happened out in the road wasn't your fault. The driver of the car lost control, and you are pronounced dead at the scene.
        Your soul belongs to the Devil now, at 8 years old.