"The Daemon"

“They say some people think in dialogues. You know, a little voice in your head thinks one thing, and then a second voice thinks something back.”

“So who’s the other voice, then?”

I don’t remember when I first saw the daemon. He claims he’s always been there, ever since I was just a baby. I wish I could call him a liar, but after all the shit he’s said to me I’m not sure what’s true anymore. I know the earliest time I remember seeing him. It was a little over a year ago, I think. I’d just stepped into the apartment. As far as I cared, it was another day that may as well have never happened at all. No adventure, no romance. That stuff is somewhere out there in the world, but it’s not here. It’s never here. Here there’s just horrible, soul-crushing banality, a place to burn away the days of your life.

            So I stepped into the same empty apartment I always did, swallowed down an anti-depressant, then dropped into my bed, waiting for a new day to come so I could do it all over again.

            “Another one of those days, huh?” I heard a little voice say.

            “Yeah,” I sighed. “I wish things could be different, you know?” That’s the part that really freaks the shit out of me. I heard a voice out of nowhere, and I don’t get surprised. I don’t ask where it’s coming from. I just talk back. Maybe the daemon was right about being there before that day. Maybe he’s right about everything.

            “Different isn’t always a good thing,” the voice replied. “Remember in fifth grade when you wouldn’t shut up about that one cartoon? The one about the dinosaurs?”

            “Hehe, yeah,” I said with a laugh. I thought I’d forgotten all about that show.

            “It’s important to remember things can always be worse.”

            “They can always be better, too,” I told him, jumping out from my bed. “I want it to stop, you know? I’d give anything to never have to go through another day like this.”

            “Anything?” asked the voice.

            “Anything.” He didn’t say anything back then. Not for a while, at least.

            “Why don’t you just get some rest?” asked the voice. “Maybe things will be better in the morning.” So I do what he says, fall back into my bed and take a long sleep. That was the first time I remember him. He was only a voice then. I didn’t actually see him until…I think about two weeks or so afterwards.

           

            I was at work, sitting at my desk, filling out another stupid spreadsheet I didn’t understand the first thing about, when my supervisor comes out. She’s a real cranky bitch. I’ve worked at this godforsaken office for three years and not once have I seen her smile. She was chewing me out over something, just another part of my daily routine. I always wished she could step into my shoes for a day. I spend every day thinking I’m inadequate, that I’m not good enough for people, and the last thing I need is someone trying to make me feel even worse about it.

            Suddenly, I see a tiny old man floating around her head. He’s got a long white beard and a twinkling look in his eyes, almost like Santa Claus. His face was worn and wrinkled, but there was something about its structure that seemed oddly familiar to me. The daemon looked almost like an older version of myself.

            “She sure likes to talk, doesn’t she?” the daemon said with a smile, sitting with his legs crossed on my supervisor’s shoulder. She was still chewing me out, not noticing the little man on her shoulders was there. I’m the only one who can see the daemon. For now, at least.

            I gave a little smile, happy to see a friendly face in this hellhole. Eventually, the bitch walks away, and I go back to typing down shit I don’t understand.

            “You didn’t like that, did you?” asked the daemon, jumping down onto one of the keys on my keyboard. I noticed the pressure of the jump didn’t move the key at all.

            “Of course I didn’t like it,” I whispered. “I don’t like anything about this place.” I stared up at the ceiling. My mind flashed to visions of another place, visions where everyone was happy, where women laughed and danced. Why couldn’t I be there?

            “Why don’t you leave?” asked the daemon, floating up into the air until he was around my head. I was able to see the brilliant white teeth in his smile.

            “Because I don’t get out for another four hours.” The daemon chuckled at my answer.

            “No, no. I mean, why don’t you leave…you know…leave it all?”

            “What, quit the whole job? And how am I going to pay my bills? I’d either end up on the streets or at another place that’s the same as this dump.” The daemon laughed to himself, slowly floating around my head in circles.

            “There’s a solution!” the daemon answered whimsically, an almost musical tone in his voice. “There’s a solution for everything!”

           

            As time passed, I listened to the daemon more, and he grew larger with each new visitation. A few days after I first saw him near my supervisor, he was the size of my head. Eventually he stopped floating altogether and just stood on the ground. When he first started doing that, he went up to my knees. About a week from that, he was the size of an actual human being. There was always something about his presence that made me comfortable. I don’t know, it was just good to think how, in spite of all the bad shit in this world, there was something that existed to make me feel better. At the end of a bad day, he’d by my bed, assuring me “There’s a solution for everything” before I fell asleep.

            I wish I did something about him. I wish just once I questioned him, said “You’re not real, you can’t be talking to me.” I don’t know, I guess I was just too grateful to have someone on my side to even think about stopping him. I don’t know what made him change, if he even changed in the first place. But I’ll remember the day things went wrong for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

            It was another day in my miserable excuse for a routine, exactly like all the ones before it. As soon as I got back from work, I reached for the bottle of anti-depressants, struggled a little to get the cap off, then took a pill as I lay down on the bed.

            “My whole damn life is wrong,” I said aloud. I couldn’t see him, but I knew the daemon was listening. “Not just now, but everything, you know? I was born with the wrong brain, had the wrong father, met all the wrong people…” With a quiet frustration, I rolled over to the other side of my bed. “I just don’t know how things were supposed to turn out for me. Maybe I was just fucked from the start.” All of a sudden, the daemon is standing in front of me. I look up to see his smiling face.

            “You wish things were better, don’t you?” he asked.

            “Of course I wish things were better. I want to go out and do something. I want to be noticed. I want to be loved! I just want to…” I looked around my apartment, as barren as a grave. “I don’t want things to be like this anymore.” The daemon sat down on the bed next to me.

            “You don’t have to,” he whispered to me assuringly. “There’s a solution, you know. There’s a solution for everything.”

            “You always say that,” I replied. “I’m not sure if you even believe it yourself. If you’re so smart, tell me what I need to do to fix all of this, huh? What’s the solution to everything.” For what felt like ages, the daemon stayed silent, staring at me with this serious look in his eyes. Then the smile left his face for the first time, and he finally spoke.

            “You need to kill yourself,” the daemon said to me. I looked at him, my mouth half-open.

            “E…excuse me?” I asked weakly.

            “If you kill yourself, it’ll all be gone,” he said, getting up from the bed and walking towards my kitchen. “No more loneliness. No more bad memories. No more of that bitch at work screaming at you. No more sitting around at night wishing things could be better.”

            “You can’t be serious.”

            “Why can’t I be?” scoffed the daemon, making his way towards my refrigerator. “It’s one of the world’s little miracles, I think. No matter how bad life gets, there’s always a way for you to get out! It’s a solution for everything!” The daemon grabbed the handle of the door of my fridge, and pulled it open. My heart skipped a beat. I’ve never seen him move an object before. I’ve never seen him do anything physical. Anything…real.

            “Why don’t you have yourself a drink?” the daemon asked. He pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge, then hurried over to me, sticking the bottle out in my direction. I slowly stuck out my hand, placing a single finger to the bottle. I felt the smooth, glass surface. This was no hallucination. The bottle was floating in front of me, and it was very real. I was tempted to touch the daemon’s hands, but decided that much I’d rather not know.

            “I, uh…I don’t think you’re supposed to mix alcohol with these,” I said, holding up my bottle of pills.

            “And why should you care?” asked the daemon crossly. “You hate being alive, yet you’re unwilling to embrace the alternative? That’s hypocritical, is what it is.”

            “Yeah, but…I…” I stammered in disbelief. “I mean, I don’t want…that. I just want things to be better.”

            “And they can be better! Just swallow down all those pills, finish it off with a drink, and you can have a long, well-deserved rest. No pain, no wishes, just peace. Peace and contentment.”

            The next day, I threw out my pills and my booze. I got rid of the knives in my kitchen, the pillows on my bed, the rat poison in the cupboard, and anything else that the daemon could use. I even tossed away every pair of shoes I had with shoelaces. I called my supervisor and demanded to work every damn day for as long as they’d allow. I figured things were less likely to happen if I was in public.

            It wasn’t the best plan, but what was I supposed to do?  The daemon was a part of me, that much I knew. I couldn’t run away from him, and I don’t think I could kill him either. So I fought back as best I could. I would do everything in my power to stay alive. After all, the shit the daemon’s saying can’t be right. I don’t think so, at least.

            It’s been a week since the daemon told me I had to die. I haven’t seen him since then. I’d been surviving for a week now. A full week of stressing out over all the shitty work I have to do, of being alone, being told I’m not good enough, then going back to my empty apartment and getting the scarcest amount of sleep before I have to do it all again. It seemed the only way for me to live was to make life worse, but I persevered.

            At the end of the day, I saw him sitting in my apartment as I opened the door. His arms were crossed, and an impatient look was on his face.

            “Are you going to do it yet?” he asked.

            “No,” I answered bluntly. “I’m never going to do it.”

            “You’re only hurting yourself, you know. You’re even more miserable than before. So why are you doing it? Why are you clinging so desperately to life when life has no regard for you?” I opened my mouth, but realized I couldn’t answer.

            “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” I asked nervously.

            “Only you can do that,” the daemon said plainly, standing up from his chair. He seemed slightly taller than me now. “All I can do is guide you along the right path. I’m here to help you. I’m your friend.”

            I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I’ll keep fighting back, there’s no doubt about that, but every day I wonder more and more just what’s in it for me if I win. The daemon and I are inseparable now. Every day he gets stronger, whispering to me, planting the seeds of despair. His smile is different now. It’s wicked.

            No matter what else, I’ll be sure the world knows I didn’t give up easy, if anyone cares to hear. But at the same time, I know I’m only delaying the inevitable. All the evil things in the world that created the daemon, that made me hate life, those won’t go away. The only thing that changes is the daemon’s strength. One day, maybe today, maybe next week, maybe twenty years from now, he will overpower me. The will of the daemon will have an inescapable grip over my mind, and I will succumb.