Once there was a girl who had a demon.
Or perhaps, once there was a demon who had a girl.
Often, the lines of ownership became blurred for the girl, or the demon, depending upon whichever party presently felt in control at any given time.
The demon lurked deep within her some days, slumbering inside a little black shell next to her heart, or inside the deepest recesses of her mind, or else some place so deep that she could not even pinpoint its location.
On these days, she was immune to the beast's poison, and so great was her relief from its symptoms that she saw the world as an absolutely breathtaking and beautiful place. People were good. Life was good. And even when people and life were not good, she was still good, and she felt as though anything that was not purely and wholly good, she could make good in her goodness.
The world bowed to the girl when the demon was away, and she needed nothing more