A story based in the real world. For some reason, a high school boy named J.J. went to sleep and didn't wake up for nearly 3 years. Someone else was awake in his place ...

		Sacrificial Alter Chapter 9 of 13 Fidel Ramalamajama by **Sigh** Copyright© 2017 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

The next day, J.J. had another hypnotherapy session. For this one, his mother was now allowed to be present.

“Our goal today is to bring Kitty back for a visit. I’m hoping we can get the identity of the person who raped her/you, and killed Missy,” said the doctor.

The patient wasn’t too enthusiastic about that. “I just got control back. I’m not too sure I want to chance giving it up again.”

“While I cannot guarantee you – J.J. – will always be the alter in control, I can assure you that this therapy today is essential for your health and possibly your freedom.”

They began with a mild antipsychotic shot. Dr. Rama and nurse Holden were there as before, with Becky seated next to them. Rama had something new with him this session: a large poster board with pictures attached. Pictures of Bob Evarist, Becky Evarist, some next-door neighbors, and various photos from newspapers and magazines were arranged in a random fashion on the board.

J.J. was in a deep trance state.

“This is Dr. Rama. I need to speak with Kitty, please.”

Nothing happened for 30 seconds. Then J.J.’s arms and legs drew up, and he started rocking his head, humming “NNNnnnNNNnnnnNNNnnnNNNnnn.”

“Kitty, is that you?”

Head nod.

“Good afternoon, Kitty. I have some more questions for you. All of them will be ‘yes or no’ questions that you can answer with shaking or nodding your head. Except for one question where I’m going to ask you to point with your finger. Is that okay?”

There was no response.

“Kitty – do you remember who raped you and killed Missy?”

Head nod.

“Can you look at this poster board and tell me – is that person’s picture on here?”

Kitty’s eyes opened, then shut. And her head nodded.

Becky had goose bumps as Rama asked, “Can you point to the person who did this?”

Unfortunately, there was no response to that. In fact, Kitty responded to no other questions or instructions the rest of the time.

The physician decided to finally end the session for today. He fretted over Bob Evarist’s last comment to him. “Good riddance” to Nova.

The last time I put Nova under hypnosis, it was Jacoby who emerged afterwards. Now I’ve put Jacoby under; will it be Nova re-emerging? She is a valid person, and has issues to work through; but right now I need the father’s cooperation, and I’m not likely to get it if it is she who returns. This is all chance; I have no direct control over which alter presents or when they do. Even Nova and Jacoby don’t have that power. May Lord Shiva protect me from bad karma for this – but I pray it is the boy who comes back.

He brought the teen out of the trance.

“Jacoby? Are you back with me?”

“Yeah, doc. It’s me, J.J.”

Dr. Rama breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did it work, doc?" asked J.J. "Did you get Kitty back?"

"Yes we did, Jacoby. Unfortunately, I could not get much more information from her, even using this poster of photographs. She did indicate that the culprit is in one of these pictures. But there must be thirty people on here."

"Ahem," Becky cleared her throat. "Maybe next time, I could ask her? Kitty might be more comfortable with a woman's voice - especially if that woman is her mother."

Rama nodded. "I think that's a good idea, but I'm not sure it will be enough. I think we need to put Kitty at 'ground zero' - where all of this started - and ask her there."

Becky and J.J. had some time as Dr. Rama finished inputting information in the computer. It had been years since they ‘d had a chance to just ‘shoot the breeze’ together, and they took advantage of this opportunity. J.J. began with an apology.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I wish I had been able to be ‘awake’ along with Kitty. Maybe I could have made her point to the picture she saw. It still seems so strange to me to talk about these other people – Kitty, Nova and maybe more, who knows? – living in my brain.”

“You did fine, son. And if Kitty shows up again, maybe I can get her to point to the picture she means. After all, I’m her mom, not some stuffy old doctor.” She glanced a reassuring smile at her kid. A change to a less serious subject was needed, so that’s what Becky did.

“You should try to reconnect with some of your friends and family; I know they wont let you call, but you can write. You can start with grandparents. I’ve been keeping both sets updated on you. They want to help in any way they can; Grandma Liz says she’d be happy to teach you how to find a rich husband.”

“Ha ha ha! Funny as ever! I love Grandma Lizzy’s sense of humor,” J.J. smiled, and then appeared worried. “She WAS just joking, right?”

“Yes she was, Jakey Jamers.”

“Mom! You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“Well, you haven’t called me Mommaboo in a long time either. Remember that?”

“Oh brother,” J.J. rolled his eyes while smiling.

“Speaking of your brother,” Becky said, “we need to update him on your status.”

“Dustin doesn’t know that I’m back in control and Nova’s gone?”

“Honey, Dustin doesn’t even know we found you and brought you back. He’s always been a busy guy, but after you disappeared – he didn’t take it well. He’ll go for months without calling us, and won’t always return our calls and texts. It breaks my heart, but I can’t make him stay in touch. I think he still operates his big trucking rig independently, so he could be in Minnesota, Boston or back at his home in Tampa an hour and a half from here.

“You know, he always talked with you more than us though. Maybe if you wrote him a letter, he’d read it?”

“Sure thing! Boy, I bet he’ll be surprised to hear what’s happened.”

Becky smiled. “What about your buds from school?”

J.J. got quiet. “Mom … I don’t know. Matt, Josh and I used to watch the pretty girls at school, and discuss their boobs, and butts, and … and now I’m one of the ones they’d do that to. Not to mention they’ll think I’m a murdering, sicko self-mutilating freak!”

Becky looked sympathetically at her son. “Don’t underestimate your buddies. I bet at least some of them would be willing to treat you just as before.”

“Mom – no offense, but you don’t know most teenage guys. I saw how they treated gays and even “less beautiful” people. They would turn on me even more viciously than that, just to distance themselves from me,” J.J. said with a somber voice.

“Heck, I remember how I used to ridicule others right along with them. Last night in bed, I realized - that’s why all this has happened to me. It’s the universe’s way of paying me back. I deserve all this, I guess. Especially if … if somehow I really killed Missy.” The boy in a girl’s body buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

After all this time – I’m finally going to be able to close the Missy Renquist file.

At the Kissimmee Police Department, Detective Ray Castro organized the information on Jacoby Jesse Evarist on his work PC. There had been a frustrating lack of new data on this fugitive for years – but now he’d popped up out of nowhere. And to top it off, he’s going to cop an insanity defense; multiple personalities, or so his family and shrink were claiming.

Yeah, how convenient. "It wasn't me, it was my alter ego, Freddy Krueger."

The icing on this freaky cake: this murderous boy was now a girl, at least surgically and hormonally. Castro was itching at the bit to interview the suspect; he just needed the psychiatrist’s green light. Which was frustratingly slow in coming. Still, any day now, he hoped for a call –

DIDDLE-DIDDLE-DIDDLE-DIDDLE went Ray’s desk phone. Sigh. Wimpy electronic ring, he thought as he grabbed the receiver.

“Castro here. Oh? HEY, Doc Ramalamajama – sorry, I keep screwing that up; I forgot, just use ‘Rama’ like you said. I hope this is the call I’m expecting, allowing me to come interview the Evarist boy?”

Rama laughed half-heartedly at the other end. Detective Castro was always making a point to initially butcher his name; it had happened so often that he was sure it was on purpose. “No, officer; this is not that call. I’m calling to request a special favor regarding that child. I need to do a therapy session with J.J. in his home, in the room where the murder occurred.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds; then – “Well. That is an unusual request, especially for a suspect considered a high flight risk. There’s a great reason for it, I assume?”

“Yes; I feel like that location may be able to spur some memories that may allow him – or rather, one of the alternate personalities – to remember the identity of the murderer.”

“OH, COME ON – “ The detective bit off his sentence and counted to ten, breathing deeply as his work counselor had instructed. He then tapped his fingers hard on his desk as he resumed in a calmer tone: “Doc. Let’s be honest. We both know who did that murder. This kid is playing you – playing the whole system – like we’re a cello and he’s Yo-Yo Ma. Surely you can see that?”

“Detective. I am a physician; you’re the lawman. You search for justice; I search for healing. And whether you like it or not, you will end up granting my request.”

“Oh, really? Why will I, pray tell?”

“Because during the trial, I will be on the stand. And I can either say that I was allowed to fully explore my patient’s psyche or not. See, if I can do this, then we may find that we have the wrong conclusion, and that the real killer is still out there. Or, I may find that somehow J.J.’s story does not fit; in that case I will testify that likely he or one of his alters committed the act.

“On the other hand, if I cannot fully evaluate my patient, then I will testify my belief that enough reasonable doubt exists that the D.A. will lose the case; and then you will be under the microscope, Detective Fidel – Oh, sorry, Detective Castro – I keep screwing that up.”

For twenty seconds, Dr. Rama heard nothing but the sound of deep breathing coming from the lawman. He knew that Ray Castro, son of a Cuban political refugee, hated the late Fidel Castro. Eventually, a low, measured voice came from the receiver.

“He’ll be cuffed hand and foot, and I’ll have myself or a deputy in the room.”

“NO. He will be with his mother and me only. You may post a guard at the front and back doors. And, no to hand or feet cuffs also. Restraints and strangers in the room may inhibit the therapy.”

More silence. “… Only one session. That’s it.”

“Hopefully I will need only one. Can we schedule it for tomorrow?” Rama was pleased with himself. He had ‘won’ this negotiation.

“Now here’s my warning to you, good doctor,” Castro growled. “If this suspect escapes, or commits suicide, or harms someone else as a result of this special treatment, then I can guarantee you will be the one in jail. I will personally lock you in myself. You got me?”

Rama grumbled. “Understood, Fidel.”

To be continued tomorrow.

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**