My Dear Slorgbog,

First off, I suggest that you leave off complaints of unfairness. This is Hell, and we have no interest in your excuses. Most especially when your sniveling letter reveals a fundamental lack of understanding about the nature of your patient.

She is a heroine, possessor of the Miraculous of Creation: what of it? You should be anticipating the feast when she is safe in our Father Below's eternally hungering embrace. Most importantly, she is an excellent candidate for being brought to the cause of Hell. But, as has been my burden in recent years, I must explain a principle that the Tempter's College should have already made you well aware of: The Martyr's Burden.

First of all, you must understand how much effort Hell put into completely changing the view of the martyr within human culture. Look into the past, look into the reality of the martyr, and you do not see pride, or joy—you see a trembling thing of slime, bent down before the knowledge that its end is upon it, and worse, that it could escape that end. Sometimes I think that the Enemy must have been observing our own work and improving on it; for little in Hell can match the terror of the the martyr as they face the bitter cup.

But now, look what we have made it! A child's game. Something to almost be desired, rather than desperately avoided. Comics, cartoons, all the varied media your patient sees makes this into something that she should be happy to embrace, especially with the third act conclusion of all of her friends mourning her sacrifice. How much better than an ordinary life! We have replaced the reality with the fantasy.

That is the first step. But the second is vitally important in ensuring that your patient, the Ladybug, will one day be safely with Our Father Below:

And that is contrasting the dream of the martyr, as something to be desired, with the reality that she experiences. In this, you must understand that the human vermin's existence, unlike the dignified status that we, as spirits, enjoy, is bounded by Time. They experience Time as a linear chain of events. To you, this may be difficult to understand, but to a human, especially the immature, every second, every minute is an irreplaceable treasure. Dates, first meetings, are all things to be experienced once—and then lost in memory. Or never experienced, if one is a "hero" and cannot attend them.

Consider everything she has missed. Consider her parents and teachers, all of whom are increasingly pressing upon her the need to improve, to change, all of them unaware of her true position. The Ladybug wears the martyr's crown, has come to see it as the burden it is, and yet does not even get the "cheers" of the crowd that our long work has convinced mankind every martyr receives!

Have you called her attention to this? In the dark watches of the night, or perhaps when she sees her friends attending a theater while she is out saving them, have you forced her to see what she is paying for their welfare? What about when her teacher complains at her poor homework or punishes her for being late? The… I hesitate to call it a profession, more accurately a mockery, where the human vermin attempt to cloak their bodies of slime in fine garments, is very competitive. She has already given up one chance at fame—have you brought it to her attention that she may not have another?

Done ideally, she will see her heroism as a prison, the walls of the world closing in on her, with no escape…

And that brings us to the third step. Jealousy. She will be jealous of those who are better off than she is. It is a natural state humans experience, the product of the Enemy's unfathomable decision to mix the glory of the spiritual with the muck and mire of the material. But you must bring home that jealousy at every moment. Play up the fact that all who are demanding more of her benefit from her actions, that they do not pay, not as she does. And soon, that jealousy can be hardened into hatred, and will color every aspect of her interactions, no matter whether she is wearing the mantle of the Ladybug or walking down the street. As her hopes and dreams recede into the distance, only her hatred and jealousy will be left.

And once you have achieved that goal, it will only be a matter of time before she comes to Our Father's House.

But that time is not yet, and I should note that the Enemy will also be moving, perhaps even whispering to her that she must not always bear this burden. What His goals are in permitting the existence of these miraculouses is unknown, but we must be cautious.

In addition, we must ensure that this conflict continues. I have spoken to the tempters in charge of her friends and yes, enemies, and we will be doing all we can to ensure that neither defeat nor victory land at her feet. Victory would end her long burden, and defeat sometimes brings the clarity of thought that the Enemy desires—and that we must seek to prevent at any cost.

But your duty—the only one you should concern yourself with, is hardening both her despair and her jealousy. For by effectively applying both, you can ensure that she will be ours for eternity, and that her horror and despair at her new existence will be a refreshing cup you may lift to your lips as often as you desire.

Remember also the alternative. Bring food to Hell, or become Hell's food yourself.

Your Mentor,

Screwtape.

PS: Kindly cease cluttering my desk with missives about the exact nature of these "miraculous" battles. What I must know, I learn from sources far better placed than yourself. Your only concern should be the destination of the soul of your patient, not the nature of these ephemeral battles. Some of your letters almost sound human.