For a comic
I like drawing. It gives me peace. Translating the story in my head and making it a reality. I want to become a comic artist, you see, but the picture is always just a picture, and the story will always be in my head. I am the author of my own story, but I feel like I follow a screenplay written just for me, and I waste it by writing down on a sheet of paper.
*poof, demon and angel comes in*
"Calls herself an author, and she's just thirteen," the demon grumbles, crouching down to look at the work.
"Age does not define one's competence, demon." The angel elegantly tucks his wings and looks down on the work. "And anyway, she'll be fourteen in a few months."
"Pathetic. Writes for attention, this one. Too bad she never gets any," the demon scoffs.
"Oh, hush, demon, cannot you see she wants friends?"
"And what could friends do, huh? She'll be with some for awhile, then lose 'em, have some more again, lose 'em again—it's an endless cycle! Wonder why she hasn't gone bad yet."
"That's because your voice isn't the one she listens to in her head," the angel snaps.
"Well, congratulations, Micheal, but she doesn't exactly listen to you, either."
The angel grimaces. "How is it that you have not been exterminated from her system?"
"That was her choice to make. No body could live without the demons in their heads—they're already dead otherwise."
"That is—"
"Very true. Yeah, I know. Without me, she wouldn't have anything to write down or draw. She takes from me—translates my whispers, mistaking them for thoughts. But you're always there to tone them down. Funny how you're still in her system, though."
"I was made to be in her system," the angel snaps. "You came in ever since she knew how to lie. If it weren't for you, she would be the perfect girl she should have been and I wouldn't have to have so much trouble with convincing her to do the right thing."
"Right and wrong is way past her better judgement," the demon retorts. "She'll do what she thinks is good for her, and for many other people."
The angel glares at him. "I don't know how well you see through her, but I know that she is better than that."
"Think again. Look inside her head if you want, you can never take away that selfishness of hers. One moment or another, it'll start to eat at her, clawing from the inside."
The angel grows quiet, and looks down at the desk again. The girl has stopped writing and is completely frozen in place.
"Welp, I guess, without us, her mind can't really work the same." The demon shrugs.
"I'll take the left side, and you'll have the right," the angel says, hardening his glare. "Per se."
"No promises," the demon sneers. "You show up on my turf, too."
