The Talk with My Demon

She perched lightly on her bed

Perspiration beading on her head

Ready to jump at any noise

When silence was broken by a voice

It sounded like her own

She had heard it countless times before

But this instance grossly differed

For this time she would be talking to her demons.

“We meet again, darling. How have you been?” It asked, her formless demon, sounding like her lover from yore. 

She hesitated, gulped, and let loose a breath. Remember, she prepped, you have to do this for your own sake. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh, but you have spent so many nights pushing me away. Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“I had an epiphany,” she replied shortly. 

“And what is that, pray tell?” Its voice morphed again, like a chameleon’s hide, taking the high pitch of her mother. 

“That the only we to get rid of you is to face you.”

The demon laughed, hollow eyes alight with amusement. “You think you can get rid of me?” 

Her confidence shook at the question, she had been asking herself the very thing for days now.  

Reading her mind, like it resided inside, it confidently answered, “You have no idea, do you?” 

It crossed its legs, now broad like her father’s, and gazed at her, entertained. Her temper rose and she looked straight back. “I can get rid of you.” 

The demon was unimpressed. It let out a long fake-yawn. “Go right ahead.” 

She took a deep calming breath, composing herself for what was to come. 

“Why do you hate me?” She asked, regretting the question almost immediately. It sounded too dumb. 

“Is it really I who hates you?” 

She had expected this and knew the answer all too well. All those days spent in reflecting, no matter how traumatic they were, had prepared her for it. 

“No,” she answered, her voice wavering a little, “It’s me. I hate myself.” 

The demon leaned in, intrigued, astonished. “Why?” 

“Because…” She paused, quivering, “because I was told that I am not good enough.” 

“And are you?”

“I am.” 

“How are you so sure?” The demon’s eyes were fixed on the girl. This was the girl who had made it what it was, fed it her insecurities, stroked its venomous body when she blundered in life, kept it by her side on dark nights. It was only fitting that she would be its destruction. 

“Because I know now that I am good enough. It’s true I have flaws, I make mistakes and I am far from perfect but that’s…,” She broke off, sobs escaping her trembling lips. 

“Go on,” the demon encouraged.

She gulped the overpowering emotions and continued, “That’s okay because…because no one else is. No one is perfect and I don’t have to be either. I just have to learn to live with myself and…and love myself.” The tears could no longer be contained. They poured from her eyes, distorting her vision and making her senses numb.

“Will you be able to do that?” The demon asked. 

She nodded. No words were at her disposal now. Everything had crumbled into the tears that left her eyes, her soul, a continuous stream of suppressed emotions. She shivered with the force of letting everything out, clutched at her stomach and roared with a primitive, animalistic cry of pain. 

The demon stared at the girl. It marvelled at how she had grown up and with a final squeeze of her shoulder, a touch that to her resembled her best friend’s hand,  disappeared. 

Long after the demon would visit

When there were setbacks and repeats

But the girl continued to drive it away

In her heart bloomed a hope to see such a day

When the demon would be forever gone

And with her true self she would become one.