Page 17 of Demonic Affliction

Nonsense. You could easily avoid the accusation if you spoke to me in your head as a sane person.

“Nothing about this is sane!”

“Willow? You sure you’re okay?”

I let out a deep breath, attempting to pull myself together before responding. “Just peachy! I’ll be out in a second!”

Okay, voice. You got me. What the hell do you want?

First, it snaps. I’d appreciate it if you stop addressing me as “voice.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t exactly know your name.

You might start by asking.

“My God, you’re impossible,” I grumble under my breath. Fine. What is your name, oh wise and powerful one?

The sarcasm is not appreciated, human, it snips. But I can’t waste a millennium waiting for you to learn proper manners. My name is Psphoone.

I bite my lip to suppress a laugh. Psphoone?

Yes. Is that a problem?

No, no. It's just that… your name kinda sounds like “Spoon.”

There's a long pause. Spoon?

A spoon is a common human utensil, usually used to eat soup or ice cream⁠—

I know what a spoon is! I am just shocked you would compare my great and noble name to such an insignificant object.

Just calling it like I hear it.

Spoon lets out a deep sigh. I do not know why the fates cursed me with this vessel, but I am sure that they hate me.

I think they hate us both. Take solace in that, Spoon. We’re in this together.

Stop calling me Spoon.

Okay. Get out of my head.

No.

Then I’m afraid I can’t grant your request, Spoon.

Spoon lets out a deep sigh. You know what? I’m going back to sleep. I’ll deal with you later.

Sleep tight, Spoon.

You are a useless vessel, and I loathe you.

Love you too, Spoon!

The voice lets loose a string of syllables that sound a lot like curses, then fades to the back of my mind, leaving me alone once more.

The weird thing is, I’m not sure that I like being alone anymore.

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