Epilogue

I talk to demons. Or to be more specific they talk to me. So it sounds crazy, I get that, and if not the massive quantities of medication that I’ve been on, as well as the multiple trips to the Mountain Valley Psych Unit, would have been enough to convince me. However, it never stopped the demons. They’re persistent bastards, that’s for sure, and no amount of lithium will drive them away or quiet their rage. Rage that becomes my rage.




You are probably saying to yourself, this is clearly the demented ramblings of a crazy person, demons don’t exist, and if I were in your place, I would believe the same thing but hear me out, I might be able to change your mind.



I had planned to start all of this with my boring personal history but suffice it to say, I was a quote unquote, normal child who was minding her own business one day when I was approached by a little boy my own age. As all children do, I happily put my hand in his and we became fast friends. It never occurred to me to question the existence of him, for he was simply, my friend and he needn’t be anything else. When I needed someone to push me on the swings, he was there. When I wanted to play hide and seek, he sought. It was a simple exchange, I took and he gave, and I was content to continue this relationship forever. Then one day, he wouldn’t swing me or seek me out. Instead he spoke, for a long time, in a language I shouldn’t have understood but did.



The boy told me of places and things that I couldn’t have conceived of in my worst nightmares, and yet, I wasn’t scared, not like I should have been. The whole thing felt familiar to my younger self so his next words didn’t cause as much terror as they probably should have.



I’ve done for you now you do for me.



I could have played it stupid and asked what he was talking about but already he and I had a connection, something invisible that tethered us together. What he wanted wasn’t immediately clear but in time, the clarity would come, our connection strengthened by the years, the deeds, the mutually beneficial union of parasite and host.



There have been others, other creatures as terrifyingly hideous as he was beautiful that come to me, but he is mine, he is the one that I was created for, he is the one that shares my world. He grows as I grow, he changes as I change. He punishes or praises me when I’m disobedient, with no life in his eyes. I am his life and I punish and praise him with a hand as creative as his and with more life in my eyes than he could ever hope to own.



This is how my story begins, confused and disjointed and I’m sure that you’ve already decided you know how this story goes but even you might be surprised.