Bedevilled 2016 【Desktop】

2016 became the year the devil didn't need horns or hooves. He wore earbuds, scrolled through Twitter, and whispered, "You're the only one who sees it."

She tried to exorcise herself—cleansing rituals from the internet, sage from the farmers' market, a therapist who called it "anxiety." But the bedevilment wasn't in her head. It was in the calendar. Every date felt possessed. Every anniversary, a trap.

By December, she stopped fighting. She sat on her fire escape as snow fell, watching the city blink its halogen eyes. And for the first time in twelve months, she laughed—because maybe the devil was just loneliness wearing a costume. Maybe 2016 wasn't cursed. Maybe it was just honest.

The year had started like any other—resolutions scribbled on napkins, the slow thaw of January's gray. But by spring, something had curdled in the air. Not politics alone, though the news cycle was a fever dream of outrage and absurdity. No, it was quieter than that. A personal haunting.

She went inside. Boiled water for tea. Left the lights on.