The Demon in My Head

I was born with a demon in my head. He is not the crazy type, just an old regular demon with bad jokes and a thirst for blood. My blood.

We did not talk much, during those first years: he was not interested in me, and I was too young to understand that he only lived in my head. It all changed around my sixth birthday when I made my first deal with my demon. It was a stupid thing really, but I had lost this small knight toy and I desperately wanted it back, enough to trade an hour of my life for it. Asmodeus — this is what I call him now — took this hour without a second thought and I woke up with the toy in my hand. I could not remember ever feeling as happy as I did that day when I realized that I would never be alone. 

Asmodeus and I made a lot of deals during my teenage years, for the smallest things in the world. If I desired anything at the time, I would ask Asmodeus how much he would take from me in exchange: it was never too much. So I traded time — which was the easiest thing to give— for bluer eyes, longer hair, less acne, more muscle, and pretty teeth. What a time to be alive. 

We were happy, Asmodeus and I. For my eighteenth birthday, I traded my fifth child —if I’m ever going to have one— for some more boldness. I was sitting in a café and there was a pretty girl just across the room, I needed something more to actually go talk to her. And who would not need that boldness in their everyday life anyways? 

It all started to go downhill when I met Delilah. She really was just another girl, but in my mind, she was so different from the others. I saw her for the first time in one of my college classes, sitting in the front row with her incredibly long lashes. We did not talk that day, and not the rest of the week either. Even my newfound boldness was not enough for me to smile at her, but I kept looking her way. 

“I could make you even prettier,” Asmodeus whispered. 

We were walking to class, and he had seen how obsessed I was with that girl. Asmodeus understood pretty much everything about me. 

“I’m already way better looking than all the other guys,” I answered.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you, have you seen your nose?” he said. 

I picked up my phone to look at myself on the camera app. My nose was just fine, a little too big, but no one is perfect. 

We were already late to class. It was all Asmodeus’ fault: he was the one who had pushed me to trade fifteen minutes to erase the dark circles under my eyes. The thing was, in our deals, I could never ask for more time. Ever. That was the only rule: I could never get back what I had traded with him, especially not time. 

“Do you think she’ll be there?” I asked, pulling at the loose strands in my hair. 

“I don’t see why not,” Asmodeus said. “She’s always in that seat in the front.”

She was, always in the same seat. My Delilah. 

“Try to walk even slower while you’re at it,” Asmodeus growled. “You’re the one who’s late.”

“Do you think she’ll turn around when I open the door?” 

“No.”

Asmodeus had never been one to hope. We worked so well together because of that: I was a dreamer, and he kept both of my feet on the ground. 

I opened the door to class to realize that everyone was already there, listening to our teacher talk about some math problem. I had never been really good at science, but it was the easiest subject for Asmodeus to help me with, and he did not like literature. 

No one said a word as I took my seat a few rows down Delilah’s. She wore a white backless dress and her short hair could not hide any part of her bare back. How was I supposed to focus?

“One fingernail and you forget all about that girl,” Asmodeus smiled. 

I could not actually see him smile — I did not even know what he looked like— but it was an easy guess to think he was smiling. 

“I don’t want to forget her, but good try,” I said. 

The teacher asked something and Delilah slowly raised her hand and answered. She had a beautiful voice, the kind that had been made to sing slow songs, to scream poems, not to explain math. 

“One toe, and she turns around and smiles at you,” Asmodeus offered. 

He was always trying to trade some parts of my body, it was the only thing I had yet to give him. 

“And then she never talks to me, that would be great.”

I could not keep up with the teacher’s explanations. Not with Asmodeus constantly whispering in my head. He was more talkative when I was bored, it meant that he was bored too, and what could a demon do except offer countless deals and piss me off?

“Give me the memories of your first love and Delilah talks to you at the end of class,” Asmodeus tried. 

I had only been in love once before, with a sweet girl from high school. It was great as if we had been made for each other. Like all first love stories, it did not end well — if it had, it would have been a true love story — and I broke her heart. It all really was Asmodeus’ idea to see how much the girl loved me, I guess cheating on her with her best friend was not our finest moment. 

“Yeah. Let’s do that,” I smiled, “you can take the memories.”

He took them. Almost all of them. Asmodeus just left me with the painful reminder that I had cheated on her and of what her last kiss had felt like. Just enough for her to still be with me, without the many happy moments I imagine we had lived together. 

“It’s gonna be a long hour,” I said.

“For that hour, I could do something about that nose of yours.”

“Really? For just an hour?”

“No. But I could fix your dry lips.”

“They’re not that dry.”

I was not listening anymore, just looking at the ceiling and talking to my demon. We did that a lot. Asmodeus helped me during the tests in exchange for the dreams I would have made the next night.I did not need to focus in class. We worked well together. 

“You want the girl or not?”

“You can have the hour.”

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, the class was over. Everyone was packing their stuff, and I was just sitting there like an idiot. I did not know what happened to my body when I skipped hours like that, Asmodeus had never told me. 

“Hey! You’re friends with Sean, right?”

It was Delilah, standing right in front of me, with her gray eyes and messy hair. 

“Yeah sure, why?” I managed. 

My world was crumbling to pieces. 

“She’s not interested,” I said to Asmodeus. 

“Of course not, have you seen your nose?”

Delilah had a really pretty nose. A small nose. And a delicate smile. 

“Does he ever talk about me?” she asked. 

Ouch.

“Nope, don’t think so.”

“You sure, not even a little? I’m Delilah, by the way.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I’ve never heard about you.”

I screamed for Asmodeus to help me. To do something about this. I could not take it anymore. I needed that girl in my life. So badly. 

“I could make her fall in love with you. Right now.”

“Do it.”

And he did. One second she was frowning and the next, she smiled at me and batted her lashes. She was beautiful. So beautiful. 

“I did not catch your name,” she said. 

I opened my mouth to answer but no sound came out. 

Not a single word. So I stood there, paralyzed, with this girl totally in love with me. And nothing happened.

“What did you do?” I said, holding back tears.

“She’s in love with you.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He had taken my voice. Of course, he had. 

“You’ll do just fine without it,” Asmodeus promised. 

I rushed out of the classroom. Delilah was nothing. Had she ever been anything more than a pretty face? 

She had never been worth more than my voice. 

And this is why I can’t talk anymore. Asmodeus agreed for me to share only this part of the story, I can’t tell you what happened next, my lips are sealed.