A/N:
I was listening to this song today and realised that it reminded me of Devi.
Behold.
Song: "Down With The Sickness" - The Disturbed.
Down With The Sickness
'Can you feel that?'
Devi opened her front door with a bang, slamming it against the wall and scraping yet another shard of paint from it. She collapsed in a heap, dropping her bags and books and staring at the ceiling with a sigh. She waited quietly for the sound of her 'daughter' calling for her.
"Mother..." there is was; no sooner had she felt like sleeping was she disturbed.
'Oh, shit...'
"What do you want, Sickness?" Devi rolled onto her stomach. She'd had a hard day; Mr. Nevers wouldn't get off her back about this, that and the other. Add more monkeys to this painting, Devi. Take monkeys out of this painting, Devi. Why doesn't this painting have any moneys, Devi?
"You're tired, mother," Sickness replied, resting in front of Devi's lowered head. "You should sleep,"
"I would if you fucked off!" Devi shouted at the come-to-life painting. "I was trying to sleep, but you had to open your fucking mouth, didn't you?"
'Broken, your servant, I kneel.
Won't you give into me?'
Sickness was everywhere. In the face of every child. In the window of every shop. On the cover of every fucking magazine, she was there! Staying at home only made things worse as Sickness crawled all over her, poisoning her body with her lies.
"Mother isn't being very nice," Sickness teased, running and bladed foot across Devi's cheek. It hurt, but she did not bleed. "Why are you so cruel?"
"FUCK OFF!" the girl curled into a defensive little ball, her eyes clouding over with angry tears. Her teeth grated together, making the tears come harder. "I'M SO SICK OF HEARING YOU!"
There was a short silence, an awkward silence, before Sickness spoke again.
"That's right, you're sick with Sickness."
'What's left of my human side is slowly changing...'
Devi sat slowly, curling her knees to her chest. The young artist-in-the-making looked over at her paintings, over-flowing with monkeys and space pigs. Mr. Nevers never supported her work. She groaned inwardly, clasping her head in her hands.
'Stop it, Devi, calm down. Get up and paint something. Ignore Sickness. Ignore Sickness.' the skater punk rocker who's 40 gothic, who shops at Hot Topic told herself, flinging her skinny body into action. 'Monkeys! Must! Paint! Monkeys!'
"You shouldn't let them curve your creative spirit," the metallic doll informed her 'mother'. "You've got so much to give. And if you don't let it out, Devi, well..." she paused, making Devi turn to look at her. A devilish smile played across her face. "You might design more friends like me."
"Shut up," Devi grumbled, beginning yet another 'Monkey vs Space Pig' painting. She was getting tired of the same old, same old. Devi wanted something new and creative, but she was scared. The last thing the 20-something-year-old needed was another imaginary friend, telling her to do things.
'Looking at my own reflection, when suddenly in changes, violently it changes.
Oh no, you've woken up the demon in me.'
Noticing that Devi was paying little attention to her, Sickness began to scream. Her shrill noises pierced Devi's ears, causing her to hunch slightly
'Paint. Paint. Paint. Paint.' her mind shouted in return, the noise of both Sickness and herself almost deafening her. Devi began to sob, the stinging tears returning as she painted a small, stick-figure monkey.
"All d-done," she whispered to herself, choking out the words with such force she could barely speak.
"I'll kill you if you don't listen to me! Are you listening? Why aren't you listening! You better pay attention to me, missy! Devi! Devi D, I am talking to you! We could rule the world! Killing will fix your problems! It will! I swear to you!" Sickness' desperate attempts to sway Devi's attention back to her and finally prevailed when she slumped and began to mumble.
"This is like..." Devi tried to piece the shards of her mind back together. There was something she was trying to remember... but she couldn't quite put her finger on it...
"Johnny?"
'You're down with the sickness.
Get up, you're coming down with the sickness.
Madness is the gift that has been given to me.'
"Who is Johnny, mother?" Sickness crawled up beside her, taking place in her lap.
"You're in my mind, shouldn't you know?" Devi snapped back, glaring down at the figment of her imagination that was resting on her knee. "Johnny is the guy... he's the guy who..."
Sickness laughed, "I know, you don't need to tell me. But what has this got to do with him?"
Devi began to pull on one of her piggy-tails, recalling the phone calls that she had recieved after the attempted murder.
"... Hi Devi ... It's Nny ... listen, about last night ... fuck, I didn't mean to ... you wouldn't understand, but ... they control me. The Doughboys tried to make me do it. They told me to immortalize the moment. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry."
"Devi, it's hard to explain this, but there is a moose in the wall who needs human blood. You wouldn't understand."
"Is it possible that if you stopped doing something that defined you as a person, you'd cease to be that person? Maybe you'd turn into a hideous, madness plauged lunatic bent of performing ghoulishly obscene acts of murder from which there is no conceivable redemption? No? Damn... I guess that's just me."
The girl turned to her mind and smiled slowly, allowing the feature to cross her face completely.
"You're just like them, aren't you?" Sickness raised an eyebrow. "You're my creative re-routing, aren't you?"
"I suppose you could put it that way," Sickness grinned in return.
'I see you're having some trouble with dealing with the changes,
Living with these changes.
The world is a scary place once you've woken up the demons in me.'
"I'm not doing your dirty deeds," Devi laughed manically, before standing and throwing Sickness away, hearing her land against her easal with a sickenning thud. "I won't become like that! Like him!"
The girl ran to her kitchen, reaching for the biggest knife she could find, before advancing on Sickness.
"N-No! Mother, don't! You'll only ruin your chances of greatness!"
"Fuck you," Devi growled, stabbing the knife deep into Sickness' chest.
'No Mommy, don't do it, you're hurting me!
I'll be a good boy!
I promise!'
Sickness yelped as Devi twisted the knife in to her metal heart, blood seeping out across her hands and inbetween her fingers. Oh, how good it felt to finally be doing some justice for the world. To rid the Earth of such a poor a lowly existence.
"Sickness," Devi cooed, "Do you like hot places?"
"Ugggh... W-Why?"
"Because you're going straight to Hell, my girl."
'FUCK YOU!
I don't need this shit,
You stupid, sadistic, abusive fucking whore.
Would you like to see how it feels like?
You better get ready to die!'
Devi thanked someone higher up than herself for her long fingernails and she began to unscrew Sickness' eyes. The painting began to scream, and Devi's insane laughter grew louder, so louf in fact, the fat psychic lady began to holler about her death.
"A plane crash will kill you! Why won't you hurry up and die!?"
Ignoring the psychic's warnings, Devi continued to tear Sickness apart, limb from limb. Her mind's screeching become deathly quiet as Sickness died, and Devi threw her in a napsack. Devi's dark eyes stared at the phone; who should she call? Who could she trust the death of her brain to?
"Hello?"
"Tenna," Devi smiled inwardly, greatful that her friend picked up. "Let's go out and have noodles, okay?"
"SURE!" Tenna practically screamed into the phone, "You do need to get out more, Devi."
"Uh-huh," and with that, she hung up, slinging Sickness' body over her shoulder.
Blood had drenched the outside of the napsack by this point, getting on Devi's trench coat. She ignored it though. She knew Tenna would understand. Yet, in reality, the bag was empty.
'Madness is the gift that has been given to me.'