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 ...

~o~O~o~

Jacoby Jesse Evarist woke up.

It was a strange awakening, this. Not the fact that it appeared to be a gradual lifting of the night’s fog; after all, he could not expect to spring suddenly out of bed to full fresh consciousness every dawn. It was another thing – no, actually multiple other things this morning. Beginning with the fact that it didn’t appear to be morning. The bright sunbeams were coming in through the windows nearly straight down onto the floor … that would be more in keeping with noontime, right?

Huh. That’s odd. I never oversleep this badly. When did I get to bed last night? J.J. tried to concentrate, but last night seemed blank to him. Weird. I’m only 14 years old; that’s way too young to start getting memory loss, right?

The next oddity was the room. As his vision cleared, it became obvious that he wasn’t in his bedroom. The walls were darkly stained natural wood, accented with shelves of books with names like Jungian Thought in the 21st century. The book next to that one had print too small on the spine to read, but the next one said DSM 5TH EDITION. After that was Dr. Seuss’ One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.

That’s a funny sequence, J.J. thought, and smiled. The smile vanished when he realized Wait a minute – I’m waking up at noon, in a strange room, and I’m not looking at the ceiling. I usually am when I first open my-

That’s when J.J. realized he wasn’t in a bed: he was sitting upright. Bolt upright. He leaned back, slower than he intended – sheesh, it’s like my body is in slow motion – and felt a thin cushion over a hard immovable surface as if he was in a high backed chair. He then proceeded to try to stand – but he couldn’t move his feet. Nor his arms. The thought came that he was tangled up in his blanket, but then reasoned he wouldn’t be in a blanket while sitting. He weakly tried a few more times to move his limbs; nothing.

He wondered about calling for assistance, and then realized: there were other voices in the room already talking. In low volumes, but they were there. J.J. held his breath as he tried to hear the discussion.

A stocky man with glasses and a suit was sitting in a shadowed part of the room; only his silhouette was discernable. J.J. had not noticed him until the man just now spoke. “Ma’am. I need your patience. The injection is in him, working; as soon as the sedation wears off, we’ll see if he returns to us. Don’t give up. I know how horrible this must-“

“Shut up. No. No you don’t. You DON’T know,” wailed a woman’s pained voice. “Unless you’ve been in my position – our position – you have NO idea about what we are feeling. And we’re not even the main victims here! Jacoby – my sweet J.J. – God, what horrors he’s gone through! I’m sorry; forgive my rudeness, doctor –“

A third voice, gruff, male, interrupted. “Don’t apologize to the quack. He doesn’t deserve it.”

J.J.’s eyes shifted to the right edge of the room, towards the latter voices. There they were, a man and woman together on a settee. The woman was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, face buried in her open palms. She occasionally shook and sniffled. The man was hugely obese, and the little couch seemed to strain to hold their combined weight. He had his big heavy arm across her back, alternately petting and rubbing it.

J.J. squinted his half-awake eyes. Somehow, in a strange way, he knew these people. They were familiar yet alien at the same time. The woman had a small crude flower tattoo on her left wrist. Just like the one Aunt Faye gave to Mom when they were kids. But this woman was not his mother. Mom was always bright, positive and joyous; and this woman’s hands and voice indicated she was years older than Becky Evarist. And this balding fat man must be her husband; J.J. was quite sure he’d never seen him before. My mom would have my athletic, svelte father near her, not this big blob.

The woman cleared her throat. “Doctor … I must have J.J. back. I need my son.” While saying this, she raised up her sad, haggard face. J.J.’s soul froze.

Mom!? What … what-what-what-what-WHAT THE HECK’S HAPPENED??!! MY GOD is that REALLY HER? And can that – that man really be Dad?’

J.J.’s mother continued. “Bob needs him too. We are living in hell right now, with J.J. being so close that we can touch him, yet this – this girl –“

“This IMPOSTER,” inserted the fat man –

Omigod. That voice. It’s Dad. The speech tone had changed, with a slightly muffled quality; but there was now no mistaking that this was his father.

His mom resumed her plea to the bespectacled man. “This stranger has taken over, and I don’t know her, and she refuses to leave! Doctor, put yourself in our position and tell us that we shouldn’t be hurting and fearful and angry and – and -” She stopped as she broke into tears.

Jacoby was now fully alert, not to mention confused and near panic. The strange surroundings, his changed parents, the nonsense conversation – he had to get answers. He attempted again to stand, putting all of his might into it. Still, nothing budged. He was – tied down?!
A glance downward showed his torso, arms, and legs, all secured with heavy-duty cotton garments that had thick straps at intervals pulled across and buckled. Like a straitjacket, except this covered his whole body. J.J. now mightily heaved his whole body in an effort to break free. He remained bound; all he accomplished was just to shift the chair he was in, and it rasped loudly as the legs scraped across the hard wood floor.

This produced a temporary scowl on J.J.’s face – until he realized that now, all three adults in the room now sat gaping at him.

J.J. looked at the woman; he felt suddenly awkward and at a loss for any words. That rarely happened; he was known as a chatterbox. Rebecca – his mom – was staring back with wary intensity, holding her breath.

“J.J.?” she finally squeaked.

“M-Mom? What’s going on?”

“WAIT,” shouted the father, springing to his feet. “She’s trying to trick us!”

The mother looked wary again. “What’s your full name, child?”

J.J. was incredulous. “You know my name, Mom! Jacoby Jesse Evarist! And your full name is Rebecca Evarist! What’s happened to you? You look so –“

His speech was interrupted by a flying tackle and bear hug from his mother. “My son! My boy! My BOY, my baby boy who remembers me! My child, my best friend! Oh God, I’d just about given up hope! I love you I love you I LOVE YOU and I’m never ever letting you go!”

Dad was dumbfounded. “J.J. – Jake? Buddy, is it really you?”

The boy in the belted chair nodded his head. “Dad – why am I tied down?”

“Not for long!” sang Mom as she furiously worked on unbuckling the shackles. This was more like the mother J.J. was used to, all smiles and joy.

The bespectacled man in the suit held his hand up. “I need to ask him some questions quickly, or he may forget what happened to him.”

“You will get to, Doctor,” stated J.J.’s mom. “I want to find out too. But I’m getting this damn restraining suit off him NOW. And I am not leaving his side. Not ever again.”

“Jacoby, I am Dr. Ramanathan,” said the physician; he rolled his desk chair out to where the sunlight made his appearance clearer. “You have a million questions, I’ll bet. I will answer all of them to the best of my ability. But first, I must ask you some; just a few, then we can get to yours.”

“Wait. What kind of doctor are you?” ventured J.J.

“My specialty is psychiatry.”

“OH. A doc for loonie-toonies . Hey - I’m not crazy. At least I hope not. I feel normal right now; I mean, outside of the fact I don’t know where I am or how I got here or why Mom and Dad are so … different … oh God. Something really bad has happened to me, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has. Exactly what, we don’t completely know. That’s what we’re all here to find out, honey,” cooed J.J.’s mom as she stroked his hair.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Jacoby. I need you to think hard for me. What is the last thing you remember happening – the last place you can remember being – before waking up just now?”

The boy, now free from his restraints and clothed in a hospital gown, tried to think. He had to close his eyes. After a minute, his brow began to furrow. “I – I’m having trouble remembering exactly what happened last night!”

His parents looked at each other with that. “Son,” rumbled his father, “you’ve been asleep for longer than one night.”

“I’m sorry, I must resume questioning Jacoby,” interrupted the doc. “Do you remember the last football game you attended at your high school?”

“Of course I do; I’m the freshman boy on the cheer squad. It was – homecoming! Yeah, we beat Armstrong High School 24 – 21 with a last second field goal! That’s the last – wait, no, I remember going to the homecoming dance after that! Missy and I were the hit of the dance – we had some ballroom moves we’d been practicing and boy, did we ever steal the spotlight!“

“Do you remember anything AFTER the dance, Jacoby?” The doctor had turned on a voice recorder.

“Yeah. Umm.” J.J.’s face turned red.

“No condemnation, son. We need your complete honesty. Tell me everything that happened. No matter how bad it was,” reassured his mother.

“Oh, it wasn’t bad. It was … GREAT,” sighed J.J. with a sudden far-off look. “Missy was … so perfect.” He lifted his head towards his parents. “Mom and Dad. I’m sorry. I broke a house rule; I brought Missy inside while you guys were gone. And, well, she was so beautiful – things just got out of hand. I could have had her back at her house before you got home; but I’m assuming – we fell asleep and you caught us, or…?” He wrinkled his face and closed his eyes, as if his memory were now failing.

The doctor spoke. “J.J. – this is really important – what do you remember next?”

J.J. sat still. He closed his eyes again. After a half minute, he opened them. “Nothing. Heck, I don’t remember even getting up to use the bathroom. So, I’ve been asleep – for more than one night? How long have I –” and J.J. suddenly stopped talking. His head had inadvertently turned to the far right, and now it was fixed in that position, staring at the structure affixed to the wall. His mouth slowly began to open in a gape, until his chin was nearly on his chest.

His mother became concerned. “J.J.?”

The father glanced around and figured out what was happening. “Doc, he sees himself! In your damned mirror!” The couple had hardly noticed the huge mirror on the side of the office wall before; its presence seemed inconsequential until now.

“Blast!” muttered the doctor as he flew to the mirror. He grabbed it with the intent to take it off the wall and turn it away.

“STOP! DON’T TAKE IT DOWN!” yelled the boy. “What … WHAT’S HAPPENED TO ME??”

Rebecca became the haggard, sorrow filled woman from minutes earlier, crying as she held her child’s head against her. “Son,” she whispered, “there is no easy way to say this. So get ready; this is some shocking, bad news.”

J.J. grabbed his mom’s waist and held on for dear life, even as his father came up and placed his rock steady hands on his son’s shoulders.

“Yes, Momma?” the boy whispered.

“Your body … is no longer a boy’s body. Someone changed you into a girl – with the body of one, fully. You have girl parts in your undershorts. You have the bones and breasts of a girl. You even became one in your mind. It’s like the boy ‘you’ – the REAL ‘you’ – went to sleep, and this girl took your place in your head. That’s the way it was until just now, when you woke up and came back to us.”

The room was silent for minutes, save for the sound of parents squeezing and kissing a bewildered, weeping child.

J.J. muttered something barely audible.

“What’s that, son?’ proffered his father.

“How long have I been … gone?”

The doctor gave the reply. “As best as I can tell, you – Jacoby – have been ‘asleep’ for two years and eight months. Roughly. It is now August of what should have been the summer before your senior year in high school. You turn seventeen years old in two weeks. It appears your memories as J.J. have been on ‘pause’ since age fourteen. And –"

“Stop,” chided Rebecca. “He’s fainted.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

“Holy sheep-dip! Finny, come look at what the feed popped up!”

Marcus Finlandt smirked and rolled his eyes as he sat at his desk. “Sheep-dip? Tom, just say ‘shit’ like any other person not living in the 1800’s.” He then realized his assistant was trying to tell him about urgent information. “What feed are you talking about?”

“The parallel feed for Interpol. It’s a positive fingerprint match on a youth they processed as part of a roundup after a nightclub fight. Looks like they’ve found the Evarist kid … and he’s living in Rio.”

“Rio de Janeiro?” Marcus needed to know exactly. “And – are the authorities still holding him?”

Tom shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. This info just – I mean just – came through this minute. And knowing the Policia Federal down there, this fugitive won’t be at the top of their ‘most wanted’ list. He’s not done anything to get in big trouble down there, that we know of. It’s just the U.S. that wants extradition. We may have 24 – 48 hours to get him before they do.”

“Do we have a positive photo ID?”

“No pic available right now on the feed. Got a name, though; Luisa Blanco.”

Marcus – “Finny”, to those who worked with him – raised an eyebrow. “But we’re looking for a boy named J.J. Are we sure it’s a match?”

His partner/employee shrugged. “The prints are perfect - I mean a completely exact duplicate. Age reported seems in the ballpark too. Finger analysis is not as foolproof as we used to believe, but these prints are the same on all fingers and in every detail. They compared them to the baseline ones we have here in the States.”

“Thank God for school safety and security programs; every kid in America ought to have prints on file.” Finny gave a low whistle. “Luisa, huh? Wow. This kid went to a lot of trouble to avoid justice.”

“Finny. We don’t know if the kid is guilty. He’s not convicted; he’s just a fugitive. His folks are sure he’s innocent. For all we know he got abducted instead of running away.”

“Yeah, sure. Innocent ‘til proven guilty. A bounty hunter like me has to reverse that thinking to do my job well.” Finny scowled as he looked at the computer. “I am stunned that he goes by a girl’s name. You know … Brazil IS the trans capital of South America; do you think he made any … physical changes? With help, he could have; he looked pretty sweet for a 14 year old boy ...”

Finny ceased talking and seemed lost in thought for a second, as if formulating a plan. He then looked up at Tom. “You’d best switch off this feed tap before we get traced. Interpol will look for any info leaks when they can’t find him. We’re gonna go and pick him up before they get a chance to. Do we have clear weather?”

“Checking …” Tom was now on his iPad. It was an essential flying tool, the tablet computer.

“Mr. Evarist?” Finny was on the phone. “Brace yourself for good and bad news. The good is, we think we found Jacob. Brazil. Bad news is, the police know where he is too; if we’re going to do an extraction, it has to be NOW. My partner’s jet is what we’ll take. So, just to confirm, you will owe your final amount immediately upon my return with your son. Cash, yes, just like the deposit. I need to hear you tell me the amount we agreed to. Now, please.”

Finny knew he had to be a hardass when it came to being paid in this case. This op was not technically legal, and no written contracts would be used; he had to be prepared to not deliver the kid if his father didn’t ante up.

“One last time, sir, to confirm: do you want us to go through with this? Because if you still do, we need to get in the air.”

Tom the pilot finished his flight plan online. He then turned to his boss/partner with a raised eyebrow that silently asked the obvious question.

Finny smiled. “He says he’s mobilizing the funds now. Can we be in the airborne in the next 45 minutes?”

~o~O~o~

12 hours later, Finny was walking through a very seedy part of Rio; a run down, red light district. This is where being a tough guy really paid off, especially looking the part. A big jet-black handlebar mustache framed his stubbled chin and square jaw; his thick, coarse mane was in a low ponytail. Letting it fly free would look more dangerous, but he wanted to blend in at least some with his surroundings. Dark sunglasses, steel toed boots, jeans, a gray sleeveless t-shirt with a leather vest and a “don’t mess with this” sneer mostly completed the look. What pushed it over the top was a slight noticeable bulge under his vest; he was packing heat.

All he’d been able to pin down before he left the States was a general neighborhood where his target lived. So he had taken the provided car and parked it just outside of the bad district he was about to enter; now he looked for a place to get information.

A dive bar. Cliché, but it will do, he thought as he approached a hole in the wall with a ‘cerveza’ painted sign to the side.

His Portuguese was rusty, but sufficient for the job at hand. He couldn’t believe his luck; the bartender pointed to a derelict figure in the corner of the bar, a man named Eusto, short for Eustaquio. And Eusto sang like a bird when presented with cash. Yes, he knew Luisa Blanco, the prettiest young travesti in the neighborhood, though there was speculation that she had recently become fully transexual. She mostly kept to herself; she lived with Sabio, an adult man in his 20’s.

Finny asked about Sabio’s status – boyfriend, or pimp?

Eusto shrugged. But then added he’d heard she would sleep with a man for enough “dollars – MUCHO dollars”, as he rubbed his fingers together. That gesture may have seemed to refer to ‘trick’ money, but Eusto was mainly eyeing the five $20 bills Finny was unrolling for his payment.

Shit, that went well. It’s barely noon and I’ve located her address. Let’s hope she’s home.

~o~O~o~

There were indeed people at home in the small shack Finny sought out. Voices were coming from inside, audible not because of yelling but due to the hut having multiple cracks and gaps. The hunter planted a tiny remote microphone into one of the cracks, and then sat down in an alley using a pile of rubbish for cover. His earpiece was in, and he hoped for just a little more info confirming he was indeed about to grab the right person. The voices spoke in a Portuguese a little, but mostly in English. Finny felt that was a good sign.

“Nova – I’m telling you, no one from your past knows you are here. They don’t even know to look for a chica. The policia let you go. Why are you so preacupado with this?” spoke a male voice.

“Sabio. They got my fingerprints. If those get out, I can be tracked down. And yes, even from North America,” said a young and unmistakeably female voice.

Nova? wondered Finny. I wonder if that’s another alias. I’m looking for a J.J. or a Luisa.

The male voice inside the shack sighed. “We can not run all of your life.”

Now the girl turned snappy. “I’m NOT going to keep running my whole life! When I turn 18, I can’t be forced to do anything! But I’m still just 16 right now. And I would rather die at age 16 than go back to the hell hole I lived in back in Kissimmee.”

JACKPOT! SHE’S GOT TO BE THE EVARIST KID! 16, KISSIMMEE, AND FINGERPRINTS VERIFIED ON INTERPOL! screamed Finny internally. He arose carefully and texted Tom – “arriving with target in 15 or less. Be ready for immediate takeoff.” He then began a jog back to his car.

Quietly parking in the back alley behind the shack, Finny exited leaving the engine off but the trunk and driver’s door slightly ajar. He moved silently to the front and knocked on the door. The voices inside went silent. Finny put his mouth near to the biggest crack in the door.

The English translation of what Finny said was this: He was looking for a pretty girl to have a good time with, preferably a tranny. Was Luisa in?

The door opened just wide enough to reveal the face of an angry young Brazilian man staring back. “She no longer does that! Go away!” he yelled in Portuguese. Stepping into view behind him was a young, pale girl with blonde hair … whose face went from disgust to suspicion, then suddenly to panic.

“Sabio – close the door! CLOSE IT!” The girl jumped back. Before Sabio could take half a breath, Finny had reached in with a Cobratek stun gun and shocked the young man into a moaning heap on the floor. As the girl turned to run, the bounty hunter lunged, grabbing her by the ankle. She began to scream, so he stunned her, and chased that with a quick shot of high dose valium into her upper thigh.

“For your own good, kid,” he mumbled.

She was still moaning but not fighting as he ran out the back door with his quarry carried over his shoulder. He dumped her unceremoniously into the trunk; Finny was in a hurry, as there were a few male neighbors running out into the alley to check out the fuss. One of them had a baseball bat. Finny jumped into the driver’s seat, started then gunned the engine, and threatened another type of gunning with his left hand – it held the Glock pistol he’d pulled out of his “belly band” concealed/carry garment covered by his shirt. As he pointed the weapon out of his window at the bat wielder, the latter suddenly lost interest and dropped the wood. The car kicked up dust as it left the alleyway.

“Last call for Bodysnatcher Airlines flight 101 from Rio to Orlando,” joked Tom as Finny pulled up the car to the edge of the jet. The off-the-grid airstrip they were at required no customs or passports, just lots of cash to the proprietor for the privilege of surreptitious arrival and departure, as well as a car to ‘borrow’ (it couldn’t rightly be called a formal ‘rental’).

Finney kept lookout as Tom carefully and nonchalantly loaded a sedated teenager into the jet. What a great team we make thought the bounty hunter; Tom was an airman and a tech whiz, but looked externally like a pasty-faced balding middle school math teacher. He certainly didn’t give off any vibe of being a jet pilot, much less a people smuggler. Which was great for staying inconspicuous.

“Are you up for another 10 hours of flying, buddy?” fretted Finny. “I found the kid so fast you didn’t get to nap at all, I’ll bet.”

Tom held up his thermos. “Brazilian coffee. Best drowsiness cure on the planet. Now buckle up,” he yelled as he taxied down the runway.

“Screw that,” replied his partner. “I thought I heard sirens in the distance, and I’m not through securing her yet. Get us out of here!”

Finny did the quickest restraint job he’d ever done, then slid into a seat just as the plane left the ground. He perused his catch, lying in the reclined seat next to him.

Got her on the foam overlay; head’s supported on 3 sides; arms to sides; legs at heart level. The girl’s safe, secure, and snoozing.

He looked at her through squinted eyes.

The girl. Girl. I’ve been looking for a male for the last year. But this is their kid, the Evarist kid. We’re sure of it. I’m sure of it.

I’m sure of it.

DAMMIT. I DO HAVE THE RIGHT KID. RIGHT? RIGHT?? OH GOD.

Tom was still in the cockpit climbing the jet to cruising altitude when he noticed something in the corner of his vision – his partner’s hand dipping into the flight briefcase and snatching the IPad. “Hey, buddy – I’m going to need that in a few minutes!” yelled the pilot.

“Just need it for TWO DAMNED SECONDS, ASSHOLE.” Finny was stressed. He pulled up the file on J.J. Evarist, with the color portrait pic he’d had in the 8th grade. Finny’s left thumb carefully peeled back the child’s left eyelid.

“Yeah, same deep blue eyes …”

Then he saw the bridge of the nose. Two freckle like marks on the J.J. photo. This girl didn’t have them.

OH SHIT! Wait - is she wearing concealer there? She doesn’t have much of any face paint at all on, but maybe …

He pulled a wet wipe out of his own briefcase and began to rub the girl’s nose. It wasn’t the greatest of makeup remover tools, but it did uncover two marks – unmistakeably identical to the photo.

Finny put the IPad next to the girl’s face for a side-to-side comparison.

This is the same face. A little more rounded – feminine – now, but this is J.J. Evarist. WHEW!

He fell to his knees in sudden relief. After some deep breaths, he took in the total picture of the former boy.

Because she was definitely female now. The outfit she had on left nothing to the imagination - hip hugger shorts and a tank top, no bra - and disclosed no "falsies" anywhere of any kind.Her hair was blonde and hung down to collarbone level; it was in fairly good condition for someone living in a shack. The face - her eyes had gotten bigger and doe-like, but the chin had stayed small. The hips were definitely flared, and the waist naturally drew in.. The breasts - they looked B or C from his view - rippled with every bump of turbulence the plane encountered.

I've seen enough tits in my lifetime - natural, implants, and fake - to know these look like the real deal, he internally bragged.

Finny finally joined Tom up in the cockpit, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat – to talk, not to help operate the airship. That was definitely not his department.

“Got him/her all tied up?” asked Tom.

“Yep. She’s still asleep, thankfully. She was NOT a willing rescue. I sure hope I’m doing the right thing here, Tom. When I was confirming the ID I overheard her say that Kissimmee was a hellhole.”

Tom wrinkled his face. “What the hoo-hah does she mean by that? Kissimmee is a slice of paradise. Heck, the whole state of Florida is.”

“Unless the people you live with are devils; then, even paradise can be hell,” mused Finny. “What if her parents were abusing her? Shit, what if the father did the murder? They aren’t planning on notifying the law when we get her back there; we were told that was for the kid’s protection. What if it’s to protect daddy instead? I think we need to keep an eye on them after this return goes down.”

“Holy horse hockey, Finny. I’ve never ever seen you so conflicted about a case. This op went so smooth, I figured you’d be thrilled.”

“Well, this family reunion we’re about to enable is gonna be hairy. For one, they’re still expecting a teenage boy. And from all appearances, they’re getting a girl – or a transvestite with really impressive prosthetics.”

“Have you checked her thoroughly head to toe to see if they are prosthetics or not?”

Finny tilted his head at Tom. “NO. That would be disrespectful and perverted. How is it that you can’t use a curse word but can think of something that wrong?”

Tom took offense to that. “Hey, I wasn’t saying to undress the kid!”

“How do you propose I check for prosthetics then, Tom?”

“Well, you could touch her groin and squeeze her brea … er …”

Finny’s eyebrows raised high. He spoke slow and clear. “PER. VER. TED.”

“Yeah, yeah. Yes, it was. Sorry. Son of a biscuit-eater! Where in my head did those thoughts come from?”

Finny smirked once more. “Everybody produces mental shit. I expel mine by using foul language. You refuse to talk that way, so the shit constipates in your brain and produces evil babies. You keep this up and you’ll be a serial killer one day, with me having to hunt you down.”

“Ha ha ha, Finny. You’re so humorous. NOT.”

“Come on, Tom. You can do this. Let’s start with the mild stuff. Say ‘crap’. I know you can.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

“So that’s the skinny. We’re as sure as we can be that this teenager who appears female is really your son, Jacob.”

Robert and Rebecca Evarist sat in stunned disbelief at the info coming through the speakerphone. Neither could muster a word through their shock.

“Uh … are you guys still there?”

“Yeah, still here, Finlandt,” Robert finally croaked out. “I … I paid you a lot of money to fetch my son. And you’re bringing back a girl? Are you crazy? Or do you think I’m that stupid? There’s no way – I mean no way – Jake would dress like a girl. He wouldn’t let anyone else do it to him, either! My God, do you know what you’ve done to us – raised our hopes, and now ripping them to – “

“Mr. E. – I’m texting you his face. Look at it.”

The parents looked at the face, bereft of any make up.

“That’s not him,” muttered Robert. “I mean, there are similarities, but this is obviously a girl.”

Rebecca gasped. “Oh my God, Bobby. Look at the bridge of the nose! Those two closely spaced spots! It IS him! Yes, the eyebrows are plucked – but this is J.J.!”

“We’ll see,” growled the father, still clinging fitfully to denial. “When’s your ETA to our house, Finlandt?”

~o~O~o~

“Damn. Damn and hell. How … what happened to him?”

“Don’t know, Mr. E. You paid me to find and return him, not for a detailed history of the last 2 ½ years. I’ve told you everything I know, and everything that happened from the Interpol report ‘til now. Sorry.” Finny was sympathetic towards the father’s plight; he looked forlorn, lost. Even being hugely obese, this man usually looked ‘together’, in control. Not so much now.

Bob stared off through the window as he stood in the hall outside the bedroom, where J.J. now continued her drug-induced sleep. Finny leaned against the wall, listening to the big guy.

"Our son had suddenly disappeared - off the face of the earth, almost. Searching for him to be more difficult than any of us anticipated. But I could wrap my head around that simple premise - find him, get him back. This? I - I don't even know where to start. Do I be angry? Sad? Quiet and accepting? Or just support him and Becky as they muddle through this? Those two have always had a special bond; like they were joined at the soul and welded together at the heart.

"Jake's never shown any hint of being interested in girly things. Toys, friends, clothes - he was 'all boy'. The only reason he was a cheerleader instead of on the football team is that he was so small, he was afraid he'd just ride the bench all game. You know, he refused to be ridiculed about cheering; "while you dudes are getting sweaty with each other on the field, I'll be picking up the prettiest girls in school" - that was his comeback, and boy was it effective."

Finny looked through the door of the bedroom they were next to, at J.J. "Is this the room where Missy Renquist was found murdered?"

"NO," said Bob. "I moved all of J.J.'s stuff into this room, and got a new bed for him as well. None of us know what exactly happened that night; but I don't want my son in his original bedroom again. That's where our lives got derailed. I use it for old storage, nothing else."

Mrs. Evarist emerged from a bedroom to confront her husband as well as Finlandt and Tom. “J.J. is still asleep like a log. When will that shot wear off?”

“It probably will last anywhere from 2 – 8 hours more, ma’am,” replied Finny. “Even then, it may take a full 24 hours for all of it to leave his system. Depends. Different for each person.”

Rebecca Evarist frowned. “I hope it’s sooner rather than later. She needs to start drinking fluids; I don’t want her getting dehydrated.”

“Becky,” interjected Robert Evarist. “It’s HIM. We don’t want HIM getting dehydrated. This is still our son, no matter what clothes and appliances he has on.”

“No, Bob,” Becky whispered. “I undressed our child and did a head to toe look. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have, now – I’m the mother, and I’ve seen J.J. naked from day one. And what I saw now … oh God, Bobby. He’s no longer a ‘he’, not in any way. Those breasts are real; not even any implants, and they’re a small C cup. And down below … “ -she paused as she choked up.

“What, baby. Tell me,” whispered her husband.

She shook her head as the tears flowed. “No penis, no testicles, no nothing except a vagina. It looks almost totally natural – almost.”

Bobby shook his head. “No. This can’t be our son. This is all a huge mista-“

“His two groin scars, from his right and left hernia repairs he had when he was 3? They’re there. Remember the doctor told us that girls almost never get hernias there, especially on both sides. Boys do because of the weak spots left when the testicles are descending. Plus, the appendix scar is there. The eyes are absolutely J.J.’s. This IS our child. Except she’s our daughter now. If this was her wish, then we should support her; if it was done to her against her will, we’ll love her and help her in any way we still can.”

She cleared her throat and continued. “It no longer matters to me what happened. Whatever has, we’ll deal with it. We have our child back. And I’m never losing her again. Will you stand with me on this, Bobby? Because I’m going to stand, with or without you.”

A moan came from the bedroom. Becky jumped, turned, and sped back through the door. In the next second, she yelled out “Bob! She’s waking up! Bring some cool water! Get cold water from the fridge and mix it with a non-refrigerated one, remember her sensitive molar! – J.J., Momma’s here baby …”

“I know how to make water,” Bob mumbled. He waddled from the kitchen to the bedroom with a glass and a straw. He then stuck his head back out in the hallway to address Finlandt and Tom. “You guys have your money. We should be square. Give me just a minute and I’ll walk you to the door.”

“No need. We’ll let ourselves out, and activate your electronic door lock as we leave. If you need us you know how to get us. Good luck,” replied Tom. He turned to look at his partner, expecting a wave and a “ditto” at least. But Finny was already gone. Tom found him outside, on the side of the house. He was pulling on something – a thin, tiny string? – at one of the exterior windows.

His covert ops friend was obviously operating on something covertly, and likely illegally. Tom scanned the area quickly for cameras or passersby, and found none. “I thought we were through here,” he whispered.

“Planted my tiniest remote unit on the inside, just at the top corner of this window,” breathed Finny. “Drilled a gnat-hole through the glass while they were fussing over the kid waking up. This is … the power cord.”

He pulled the tiny wire coming out of that pinpoint window hole and began using super glue to tack it to the house bricks. The electricity meter was located just next to this window, and was unlocked. “Hot-wiring into the meter as a power source. They won’t find it unless they are looking for it, or lucky. But we’ve got video and to a lesser extent, sound. That main hallway should carry voices from the bedrooms and living areas,” Finny whispered. “Done. Let’s boogie out of here.”

“Tell me how we’re gonna get paid for that,” mumbled Tom.

“You? You won’t. I’ll get paid every morning, when I have to face myself in the mirror. Something doesn’t add up. That kid’s in danger. I can feel it.”

~o~O~o~

The teenage girl lying in J.J.’s bed was gradually rousing from her drug-induced slumber. At first, her eyelids opened into little slits, and she stared straight ahead. Then after a while her eyes started roaming, slowly absorbing her surroundings, though she remained silent and still, just a hint of drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.

Becky Evarist sat on the bed beside the girl, stroking her hair, rubbing her shoulder, and singing songs that she’d sung to Jacoby when he was a baby. She recounted her favorite memories with him, such as the time he cried all day for “keemwee” and she finally realized he wanted Cream of Wheat. She had kept J.J.’s room the same as it was just before he disappeared; she had never given up hope that he’d be back.

This moment in time; if I could freeze it, I would. My youngest, letting me love on him – well, her – like I haven’t been able to for a decade and a half. This will pass as soon as she wakes up, I’m sure; so I’ll enjoy it while I can.

J.J. suddenly said “Huh. Huhhh. Huh?” and awkwardly pushed her body up to where she was halfway propped up by her arms. She forced her eyes open more, and with a wobbly head spanned her surroundings. Then she looked at Becky, who smiled.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Well, I guess it’s good middle-of-the-night really; it’s 1:30 am now. Remember me, your mommy? How are you feeling, honey?”

The girl’s eyes squinted. Finally she spoke. “Mmm … Mmmuhh?”

“Yes, dear. It’s Mom. You're back with us in Kissimmee. What’s do you call yourself now? J.J., or is it Luisa Blanco?”

The girl glanced around the room. “I’m … back?”

“Yes you are, back home. Back safe with Mom and Dad.”

“I’m, I’m in Kissimmee?? I’m IN KISSIMMEE!! God – NO!”

Robert walked in with a fresh water glass and straw. “Hey, you’re awake! Welcome back, kiddo!”

The teen snapped her head towards Bob’s voice, and more confusion with some new panic filled her face. “Who are you – you aren’t – “

“Yeah, I’m Dad. I look a lot different - gained about 130 pounds since you last saw me.”

The girl’s eyes popped open as round as saucers as a scream exploded from her lungs. “GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T YOU TOUCH ME YOU FUCKING RAPIST PIECE OF SHIT! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

Becky was agape. “J.J. – what?!”

Bobby stepped back. “Kiddo! What the hell-“

“GET OUT!” The girl had jumped to the far side of the room, which placed the bed between her and her father. She began grabbing anything she could – the alarm clock, books off the bookshelf, a signed baseball – and heaved them in rapid succession at the large man.

“GEEEEEETTT OOOOOOOUUTTTT!”

The bewildered father shielded his head against the onslaught.

“Bobby! Go out in the hall!” Becky urged as she saw multiple projectiles bouncing off of her husband. Something about his presence was agitating J.J. She’s still disoriented from the rescue, and from that damned sedative. I’ll calm her.

“Shhh, baby. It’s OK. He’s gone. I’m here. Just hang on to me-“

“DON’T touch me, bitch,” sneered the girl.

“J.J.! Don’t speak to me that way! I’m your mother! Don’t you recognize me?”

“Oh, I know who you are, lady. And you may have been a mother to the other guy, but you are NOT my mother. And what you let happen to him – you don’t deserve to be anyone’s mother. You evil, evil slut! You STAYED with that rapist pervert, after knowing what he did!”

Becky Evarist was in shock. What was she talking about? Why was she so angry? And who was she, this alien in her son’s transformed body? J.J. was never remotely like this, in action or speech.

The girl’s eyes were now on the floor, looking at an object there. She turned her head towards Becky. “That’s your purse?”

The mother, still stunned, nodded her head.

In a flash, the girl grabbed the bag and bolted out into the hall. Becky alarmed out of her daze and yelled “BOB! STOP HER! SHE’S RUNNING AWAY!”

The teen ran down the hall and out into a living area. This was not totally familiar to her – and yet it was? She stopped for a few hair-raising seconds, trying to decide where to go to get out the front. She turned into one hall – no, that led to a kitchen – then turned down another hall and ran directly into the bulk of Bob Evarist. He grabbed her arm as she attempted to pull away; she began to scream.

“No! No no no no no no NOOOO! NOT AGAIN! RAPE! RAAAAAPE!”

Bob held tight to her, but he was obviously shocked, upset. Becky ran in, her face showing the same condition.

The girl started crying now, and blubbering. “Please – please. Please don’t hurt me again. I’m sorry for yelling. I’ll be good; I’ll do whatever you want just please, please don’t hurt me …” and broke down into sobs.

“Bobby – what is she talking about?” queried Becky, with just a hint of doubt emerging about her husband.

“Honey – I have absolutely no idea. I don’t know where these accusations are coming from. I can guarantee you they are not true, though.”

“Well, she certainly made some false accusations towards me, too. Bob! What are we going to do? If we take our eyes off her, she’ll run away! We can’t let that happen, not after just finding our child again!”

Bob thought. “Actually, we can’t let it happen because she’s 16, and we’re legally responsible for her, and she – CLEARLY – is mentally ill. She needs to be taken to a psychiatric hospital for evaluation.”

“We can’t do that! There’s still a warrant out for J.J.’s arrest! If the hospital clears her, she’ll go to jail! Nobody else besides us needs to know she’s here!”

Both parents were shedding tears now. Bob choked his own back long enough to reply. “Honey. I can see no other way. If J.J. goes to trial for murder, we’ll fight it with the best lawyers we can afford. But our kid is sick, and needs help. Please – PLEASE – let me send her to the hospital.”

Becky buried her face in her hands, gushing more tears as Bob used his free hand to pull out his smartphone. “I don’t think we can control her adequately to drive her there ourselves. I’m calling 911.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

If the Sheep-dip in the title of this chapter seems totally random, read the first 4-5 sentences in chapter 2. ;)

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

Robert and Rebecca Evarist sat on two chairs in a rather large office / consultation room at Passages Psychiatric Hospital located just outside of Orlando, Florida. Their night had been lousy; J.J. didn’t get fully checked in until 6 a.m., and after that they went home and slept. Even with their extreme tiredness the sleep was not restful, especially for Becky. Now it was 4 p.m., and they were to meet with the doctor who had evaluated their child.

They were so absorbed in distressed thoughts that they barely noticed the physician enter. “Ahem,” said the doc; both parents raised their heads and immediately stood up.

“I’m Dr. Kapil Ramamurthy, Chief Medical Director of this facility,” said the Hindu man in a fairly thick accent. He wore glasses, and was slightly overweight. “Many call me Dr. Rama as it’s easier to say. You’re the Evarists? – I hope I pronounced that correctly.”

“Yes,” said the mother. “I’m Rebecca – you may call me Becky. This is Bob.”

“Unless she’s angry; then I’m Robert,” teased the father.

Dr. Rama smiled back at him. “Is there a reason for her to be angry with you today?”

That question took both parents by surprise. Bob thought Oh no, one of these analysts that reads deep hidden meaning into every little thing you say. Forget any joking around, then.

Becky's response was verbal. “No! I have no reason to be angry with him – not that I’m aware of – I mean, J.J. said some things …” She paused and squinted her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Did … did you find a reason that I SHOULD be angry with my husband?”

“No ma’am – but I am nowhere near through evaluating your daughter.”

“Son,” interjected Bob. “Or at least that’s who he was until he disappeared nearly 3 years ago.”

“Right. Before I go any further, I need to ask you two some questions.”

The questions were many, and somewhat confusing. About any history of mental disease prior to now (“No”), and about any drastic personality changes seen in youth (“No”), and any traumatic experiences.

The mother sighed. “Trauma - yes, but we don’t know exactly what happened.” She looked at her husband; both seemed unsure about how to start.

“I’m listening,” encouraged Dr. Rama.

Bob responded. “Two and a half years ago, our son was an honor student, a freshman cheerleader. The night of the homecoming football game that year, he was set to cheer for the team and was going to attend the after-game homecoming dance with his girlfriend Missy Renquist. The plan was, after the dance J.J. would walk Missy home – she lived just 3 blocks from the school gym, and only one street away from our house - then he’d walk back home alone. With that understanding, Becky and I went to the game, and afterwards I took her to a late dinner and even later movie.”

Mrs. Evarist took the story from there. “I was the one who walked in on the scene. Missy was lying dead in J.J.’s bed, totally naked and with multiple stab wounds. Blood was everywhere. And J.J. was gone, without any hint of where he’d left to. They found his semen inside Missy. The police put out an APB and did the biggest manhunt of the last 5 years – but J.J. was nowhere to be found. He didn’t contact anyone – not us, not his school friends, not his favorite aunt June nor Grandpa E. Not even his brother Dustin.”

“So he has a brother. Any other siblings? Does Dustin still live at home?”

“Nope,” replied Bob. “He lives in Tampa; he’s a truck driver, and works all the time. We’re lucky to even see him on holidays. J.J. always talked to him on the phone, though – just like he did with his aunt and grandpa. ”

Dr. Rama clicked his retractable pen as was his habit when in deep thought. “So, Mom and Dad. The police, I assume, are still looking for J.J. And now he is here. Do you feel he committed this murder?”

“We don’t know what to think,” emoted Becky. “All of the evidence seems to indicate he’s at fault. But he’d never shown any sign of cruelty or temper! His only flaw was that he tended to be a procrastinator. And he adored Missy – he was head over heels for her. J.J. was one of the most happy, positive, well-adjusted humans alive. Even with all the appearance of guilt, I cannot see him committing this crime.”

Now Bob cut in. “After a year and a half, I decided to hire a detective – bounty hunter, really – to try to find our son. And they did find him – living as a woman, in a shack in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I, too, want to believe J.J. is innocent; but it sure appears that he went to extremes to avoid being found. That doesn’t prove he’s guilty, but you have to admit it makes it look that way.”

The couple went on to describe the events of the last 24 hours to the doctor.

“Well, this has been informative,” said Dr. Rama finally. “I can now tell you what I think. My opinion, I warn you, may be a shock for you – so get ready.”

The couple grabbed each other’s hands.

“Have either of you ever heard of - Dissociative Identity Disorder? We call it D.I.D. ... previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder. That’s what J.J. appears to have. It turns out ‘Luisa Blanco’ was a cover name that she used to hide herself from the authorities. The person who threw a fit in your house calls herself Nova Liberte’. This Nova is a separate consciousness from the personality you knew as your son.”

The couple did indeed appear shocked. After a pause, the doctor continued. “I don’t know if this condition has been there since birth, with Nova – and perhaps even other personalities we aren’t aware of – just being hidden until now, or if “J.J.” was the complete personality, and something just fractured it. The theory is, sometimes a huge trauma can lead to a split of the psyche. And this homecoming date murder certainly would qualify.”

“My J.J. is not a murderer! That case is still officially unsolved!” snapped Becky.

“Wait … I didn’t say he murdered that girl. I’m not even saying another personality of his did this. I did use the word ‘murder’ because it sounded like no matter who did it, someone killed her. Whatever what happened back then, our challenge now is to try to ‘re-integrate’ the Nova personality – and any others – back into one personality.”

“How do we do that, doc?” queried Bob.

“Well … it will be a difficult task. We can try drug therapy, though that alone will likely not work. We can also try intense psychoanalysis. And understanding what happened that homecoming night will be essential. But it will be easier said than done. I wish I could guarantee you success – but frankly, many D.I.D. patients never get back to a normal life.”

“Why does this ‘Nova’ personality hate us so much?” asked Becky.

“That’s another unfortunate twist here,” sighed the psychiatrist. “Nova is claiming she was raped, and… um … puts the blame on you, Bob.”

“So. She continues to say I actually raped her. My son says I raped him.” Bob shook his head.

“It’s actually more complicated than that. I questioned Nova very carefully. When we get right down to it, she knows somehow she was raped by you, but cannot remember the actual act happening. She just knows it happened, and for some reason is sure you did it – or maybe allowed it. That’s as specific as I’ve gotten so far. Still, Mr. Evarist, I need to ask you the question,” – the doctor looked deadly serious now.

“No. I did not rape my son. Or ‘Nova’. I did not rape or even inappropriately touch my child, nor his brother, nor his cousins, nor the neighborhood kids or old ladies or the next-door neighbor’s dog! I’ve never raped or molested anyone in my life, and the thought of doing so would disgust me!” Bobby was obviously distressed that this even needed to be in question.

“Can we see her? If she won’t meet with Bob, what about just me seeing her?” proposed Becky.

“I don’t recommend it. She has very negative reactions to both of you. She’s going to need some intense therapy; and it needs to be inpatient, since she’s a flight risk. In other words, I need to keep her here in the locked unit for now. She’ll have interaction with the staff and be free to roam around the unit – but she won’t be able to leave, of course. I would consider her a danger to herself, and perhaps to others.
I’ll also let the law authorities know she’s here -“

“Doctor – must you? Can’t we keep her here confidentially?” pled the mother.

“Yes ma’am, I must report this. I risk forfeiting my license if I don’t. But I will recommend against jail, or prison, or even a trial right now; her treatment is essential to her, and will even be essential to figuring out her guilt or innocence in that girl’s death. And Mr. Evarist, I’m also required to report her accusations against you. So be prepared for a police visit soon, for questioning.”

The couple left the doctors office with the promise of an in-person update in four days, and phone call updates daily until then. Even those assurances could not lift their mood.

Halfway to the car, Becky stopped and buried her face in Bob’s big chest. “I had him back. For an hour. I got to love on my son for one stinking hour. And now he’s ripped from me again.” She bawled and pounded her fist softly into her husband.

~o~O~o~

Three days later, Dr. Rama sat in his office, sipping a bottle of cold water from his mini-refrigerator. He was sweating slightly, as he’d just come inside out of the humid hot day; there was another reason to perspire, also.

Two p.m. already. My, the morning went by quickly. I can tell I’m apprehensive about Nova finally interacting with one of her parents.

Nova had been somewhat tight-lipped during multiple attempted interviews with the Doctor so far. He hoped that getting the mother in the room would at least make the girl talk more in some way, even if just out of anger. Rama reviewed the ground he wanted to cover today, and made sure the office was set just right. He called out to his assistant, who ushered Rebecca Evarist in.

“Are you nervous, Becky?” asked the physician.

She forced a grin back as she furrowed her brow, confirming Rama’s guess.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to want to run over to her and hug her, which might upset her.”

Becky was making a point to refer to her child as female, as the doctor had said that the ‘Nova’ alter was still in control, and insisting that people address her as a woman. ‘Alter’ was a new word the Evarists had learned; it was short for ‘alternate personality’.

An orderly brought in a young woman dressed in a drab set of cotton pants and shirt. Even with no makeup or fashion, it was clear that this person was 100% female. Not just in her obvious post pubertal body development, either; her walk, the slight sway of her hips, the muted swing of her arms at the elbows showed a feminine lilt. Her face was more than just feminine, however; it was clearly angry. Wary. Defiant. The girl sat down in the chair offered to her; she made no sound other than breathing, and gave Becky an icy stare.

“Nova, right?” Becky said, smiling with obvious nervousness. “I’ve been counting the minutes until I got to see you again.”

Nova looked away, but answered. “I’m here against my will.”

The mother persisted. “I, uh, I’m told that you don’t like me. “

“Really? What gave you that impression, bitch?”

“Nova. Speak as we discussed, or don’t speak at all,” admonished Dr. Rama.

“That’s the way you feel, Nova. Thank you for being honest with me,” Becky replied. “I’d like a chance to change your opinion – or at least understand why.”

Nova continued to look to the side, at the plate glass window that showed the beautiful garden on the hospital grounds. The second floor office had quite a view, with a stately oak tree growing just near the wall.

“I didn’t mince words when you had me back in your house. You stayed married to a rapist. You’re an evil woman just for that alone.”

“Nova – if you were raped, I didn’t know it. I’ve never known Bob to be a rapist, or anything close to it. If I knew he was one, I would definitely leave him. What exactly happened to you?”

Nova rose from her chair and meandered around the room. “It’s hard to talk about.” She rubbed her hand over a brass bust of Sigmund Freud.

“Nova. Sit back down, please,” Dr. Rama ordered.

Instead, Nova grabbed the bust and heaved it with all her might at the window. It exploded through the glass with a BOOSH! leaving a gaping hole right near the side where the oak was. She ran and dove at the hole, scraping her arms and scalp on the sharp edges as she went through. Her hands grabbed the big tree limb nearest the window; for a second she seemed to have it, but then she emitted a quick shriek of surprise as she lost her grip in a mess of breaking bark. Her body slammed into the ground belly first from twelve feet up.

“CODE INDIGO, OUTER GARDEN!” Dr. Rama screamed into his desk phone.

Becky ran to the hole in the glass and stuck her head through, looking down as she heard a woman's voice repeat "Code indigo, outer garden; code indigo, outer garden" over the intercom.

"J.J!" she screamed. The girl's body seemed horrifically motionless for a few seconds. Then, she could be seen heaving with her chest as she began to cough and gasp for air; a moan soon could be heard coming from her lips, followed by sobs. Otherwise she remained fairly motionless.

"J.J. - crap - NOVA! Don't try to move! You could be badly hurt! Stay still - I'll be right there!" Becky scanned the area and looked down, to judge the distance. She lifted up her right leg and put it through the glass hole; then withdrew it, and prepared just to leap through -

"NO YOU ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT, MS. EVARIST," shouted Dr. Rama as he grabbed her waist and pulled her back. "We'll take the stairs!"

The orderlies had no need to immediately restrain the escaped girl; she was still gasping and moaning from having the wind knocked out of her. They knelt by her and made sure her head and neck were secured as the EMT's arrived. She’d sustained various cuts from the window edge and from falling on glass shards. An ambulance prepared to take her to the nearest emergency room for stitches and to make sure there were no internal injuries.

Becky watched with forlorn as they carried Nova off in restraints to the hospital. She turned to Dr. Rama. “I’ll go with her to the E.R., if it’s okay?”

“That's fine - just drive there, don't go in the ambulance. At the E.R., just remain in the waiting area. I don’t recommend you stay in the room with her. She obviously acts up in your presence. If she is okay physically we’ll try again later this week, Becky. Unfortunately, I think I will have to keep her restrained for all meetings in the future.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

WARNING: This chapter deals with memories of explicit physical and sexual abuse.

~o~O~o~

Two days later, Bob and Becky were sitting together in Dr. Rama’s office in front of a large television screen. They’d been both asked to come – but not for a meeting with their child. So both were getting impatient to see why they were there.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” they heard from the opening door; in walked Rama. “I wanted to show you two something we recorded this morning.” He grabbed a remote control handset off of his desk, and pointed it at the TV. “Nova doesn’t trust me – or anyone here – fully yet; but she opened up quite a bit about her past during our session today.” After clicking through a few menus, a video started to play.

Nova was sitting in a room with pictures and white walls, a chair and a table; little else. She was unrestrained, but obviously the room appeared fairly escape-proof. Dr. Rama was in the room with her.

Becky broke in. “Pause the recording, please. Doctor? Why is her hair so short all of a sudden?”

“Oh – forgive me for not preparing you two. After her failed attempted escape the other day, she was severely depressed and felt to be likely suicidal. So we had to cut her hair. Long hair can hang a person as effectively as a noose, if one is inventive enough; and I felt your daughter was at risk,” said Rama.

“Into a pixie cut – it’s almost a boy cut. Is this somehow supposed to make Nova cooperate more with us? It seems like it could do the opposite!” Becky fumed. “She’s still a minor. Shouldn’t you have called us for permission before this was done?”

“I like it,” reasoned Bob. “He looks more like J.J. now.”

Rama attempted to put out this unintended little fire. “She actually has been rather silent about her new hairstyle. And it didn’t keep her from opening up this morning in therapy. Now, please, let me play this for you.” He dimmed the lights and pressed ‘play’, and the two figures on the screen - Nova and Dr. Rama – became unfrozen.

“So. Tell me your earliest memory, Nova,” said the doc.

Nova sat and twiddled her thumbs, sighing. “Okay. The earliest thing I can remember is also a horrible thing. I remember coming awake, and it being totally dark; I then realized I had some kind of blindfold on. I didn’t recall where I was, or who I was even. What I did know, somehow, is that I was a girl.”

“Hmm. Nova - that was definite and unmistakable, this feeling of being female?”

“Yes. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I was a girl – a strong one – and I had to survive.”

“Survive what?”

Nova tilted her head at the doctor. “Being raped and held against my will, of course. When I awoke that first time, my hands were tied behind my back and someone was entering me – my ass – from behind. And my mouth was gagged. See? I told you it was horrible.”

“That’s extremely horrible. Who was doing this to you?”

The girl shrugged. “All I ever knew them as were Bolivar and Fausto. Don’t even know if those were their real names; they were my owners. They raped me regularly, and pimped me out to other men who came looking for young boy sex. I had no formal interaction with them except when they yelled orders at me; most of the time they kept me chained up in a closed room that looked like a basement. That’s where all the raping happened, too.”

Dr. Rama looked visibly pained. “My God. You’ve been through hell.”

“I’m back there, doc.”

Rama was puzzled. “You’re back there? Do you mean in your thoughts?”

“No,” Nova sighed. “I’m back in HELL. Locked up in this place with a bunch of lunatics, away from my guy back in Rio.” She looked away as an angry tear trailed down her cheek. “I mean, I’m not being forced to have sex – not yet, at least. Who knows what goes on in these psycho wards, though, right?” ‘

“The sooner we help you get better, the closer you will come to leaving here, Nova,” replied Rama. “Is Rio where this abuse took place?”

“No; I lived in a basement, so I couldn’t get a bearing on my surroundings really. But I could hear my owner’s conversations. Once they mentioned Fortaleza, Brazil as the city we lived in. I can understand Portuguese pretty well.”

Dr. Rama held up his pen. “That may be because J.J. – your other personality – is fluent in Spanish and German. Much Portuguese is not that far removed from Spanish. I’ll bet if you heard some German, you’d understand it too.”

Nova sighed. “My ‘other personality’. As crazy as that sounds to me – I mean, I feel like THIS is who I am – it does explain why I can’t remember any of my life before that damn basement.”

Dr. Rama rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. “I’m sorry, I diverted us. You have claimed your father abused you; how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“Over the next year, I overheard Fausto and Bolivar talking enough to put some things together: they had bought me on the black market, to use as a sex toy and to pimp out to bring in money for them - evidently I was a ‘sweet looking gringo boy’ who some perverts prefer to women - and it was my dad who had sold me to them. They also remarked that they got me at a discount because I wasn’t a ‘virgin’; seems Daddy made sure to take that from me before selling me.”

Brenda snapped her head sideways to stare wide-eyed at her husband. Bob shook his head emphatically, denying the accusation.

“They started to give me shots to make me more curvy, like a girl; they didn’t want me to start looking like a hairy hombre as I got older. They thought I’d make more money for them as a travesti. Oh, and they thought up a really cheap and fun way to castrate me; it involved a zip tie. I’ll let you fill in the blanks. I almost died from bleeding when my scrotum finally fell off.”

Dr. Rama shook his head. “Nova – I’m so sorry this happened to you. You were enslaved, tortured, abused and made into a woman against your will. How terrible.”

“Actually, I wanted to become a physical female. I didn’t tell my ‘owners’ that; somehow in their sick minds I think they would have stopped the shots just because I desired them. Anyway, I like the changes it made in my body; Sabio thinks I’m pretty sexy. After I was rescued, I made some friends in the transsexual community in Rio; I have a friend who scores a hormone shot for me from the free clinic every few weeks or so.”

Dr. Rama looked at the ceiling and began clicking his pen. “Getting hormonal treatment as a young teenager who appeared late for his male puberty – that likely produced the look that you have. All the secondary sex characteristics of a normal female appear to be present, except of course for reproductive organs.”

Nova smirked. “Is that your ‘fancy psychiatrist’ way of saying you think I’m hot?”

Rama ignored that and continued. “In fact, I would venture to say that your development is at extreme top of the range for a 16 year old – I would expect this look more from a woman in her mid-20’s. It makes me concerned that you might have been given dangerously high doses of estrogen. It doesn’t sound like you were under a doctor’s care with those shots. Nova – that could have killed you.”

Nova looked suddenly depressed. “You’re going to stop my hormone treatments, aren’t you. It figures. This place smells more like hell every day.”

“No, I’m not going to stop them. I’m going to get a consultant on your case – an endocrinologist who specializes in transgender treatment. If she says to continue the therapy then I will do so without hesitation. But you will be doctor-supervised in this."

Rama eased his verbal tone from scolding back to inquisitive. “So, did you have mixed feelings about your ‘owners’ then? At least with the feminizing process, it sounds like they did some things you appreciated them for.”

The young girl’s eyes became fiery with anger. “You misogynistic bastard – there is NO WAY IN HELL I owe them any appreciation! Whatever they did for me, it wasn’t worth the shit I went through. To even suggest that shows how screwed up you are!

“On some occasions I'd hear Fausto and Bolivar talk to each other about when they should just get rid of me. I felt that if I became too much trouble for them – if I opposed them enough – they would just kill me and be done with it. On the occasion when I did fight or resist the sex, they beat me and denied me food and water. So I did what I had to do to survive. I just disengaged my brain as much as I could while those monsters used me. And I bided my time, waiting for an opening, a chance to escape. And one finally came, in the blessed form of a boy named Sabio.”

Dr. Rama wrote with his pen onto a pad. “Does Sabio have a last name?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and it’s rather long. It’s I’M-NOT-TELLING-YOU-SO-GO-TO-HELL.”

The doc kept his composure. “That’s fine. How did this Sabio help you escape?”

“Sabio had an old pervert uncle who liked to fuck she-males, and the wrinkly asshole paid Bolivar for some time with me. He needed to see me to be convinced to ante up, so they paraded me out of the basement into the hall – without the usual bag over my head, for some reason. Sabio was there, to help his uncle get up and down the stairs. It was the first time I’d seen anyone who wasn’t there to personally use me. I looked at him while the others talked, and mouthed “ayudame” – Spanish for 'help me' – to him.”

Nova began to sniffle, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I felt like a fool, especially when he stood there and did nothing. I went back into my room and his old uncle had his way with me. But then two days later, both Bolivar and Fausto were out and I was chained as usual in the basement. I hear the front door and then the basement door being forced open. It was Sabio – with a chain cutter. He got me out of there, and out of town. I was a little worried he was going to chain me up too; every man I’d ever met to that point was an evil son-of-a-bitch, after all.”

She raised her head up high for the first time, and smiled through her tears. “But no. Sabio loved me. Even after he found out I wasn’t a regular woman. For the last year, I’ve been living with him, and we wanted to get married. I refused to, though, until I had some things settled.”

“What things?”

“When he rescued me, I still had no identification or any way of verifying who I was. I didn’t even have a name, except escravo – ‘slave’. I chose my own name, Nova for new and Liberte’ for freedom. Because that’s how I feel with Sabio – new and free. Since I wasn’t technically an adult yet, I went by Luisa Blanco, figuring I could stay hidden with that until age 18. That plan obviously failed, ‘cause I’m here.

“Also, I wanted to be as complete a woman as I could be; that meant getting rid of that damn penis. I ended up prostituting myself for the money – boy, was Sabio against that, but we had no other way and I insisted I had to. Besides, this time I was the one in control of the situation. In April of this year we found a surgeon who would bypass the usual needed counselor visits and didn’t ask about my age; and I became a functional female. Not that I got to use my new assets very long before I got enslaved again.”

Dr. Rama raised his head. “Enslaved again?”

“YES! HERE, you dickhead!”

“Nova. I know you don’t like being here, but you need help.”

“What I NEED is to GET AWAY from my abusive Mom and Dad and back to Sabio! Hell, I don’t even remember this couple that call themselves my parents! I don’t remember my home, or that room they had me in! I have nothing tying me down here! I need to get back to Rio de Janeiro!”

“You – you don’t remember your past life – years zero through 14 – at all?”

“The only thing I had in my head was a name – Evarist. In the public library in Rio I did searches under that name, and found out about an Evarist boy who went missing in Kissimmee, Florida. He was supposed to have killed a girl. His picture – it was me. Me as a boy, but unmistakably me. I saw the pictures of the boy’s parents and burned them into my skull – my father the rapist who sold me into sex slavery, and the mother who let him. That’s the only way I knew ‘mom’; she looks like she’s aged a lot, and ‘dad’ - well, he's become the Goodyear blimp.

“See, here’s the thing, doctor. I’m not this J.J. boy. I’m Nova Liberte’. This ‘J.J.’ person may have murdered this girl, but I didn't, because I’m not him. There is nothing for me here. I have a life back in Rio. Not a rich one, but it’s MINE. I have a lover there too, and he needs me. J.J. is not coming back; he’s not welcome to. I have no parents – I don’t know these fuckers. Please don’t keep me here; please, please let me go!”

Dr. Rama pulled a large folder from his briefcase and put it on the table. “I have a lot of information and pictures of your life for the 14 years you lived before you ‘awoke’ as Nova. I think you’ll find some of this fascinating; with your permission, I’ll show it to you.”

“No.”

The doc raised his head. “Beg your pardon?”

“No. “

The physician was at a loss for words; he thought she’d have some curiosity about her past.

Nova craned her neck forward. “Earth to Doc. Are you deaf, or just dense? No. NO. I DON’T WANT ANY OF MY OLD LIFE, KNOWLEDGE OR OTHERWISE. Look where it got me! Let me go so I can enjoy my new life, please!”

“Nova …”

“I’ll do anything else you say, or want; just let me go. Is there anything I can do?” She started to choke up, and then reached a hand across the table, touching the doctor’s lapel. Suddenly she glanced up directly into the camera, and pulled her arm back. Covering her mouth with her hand, she whispered something inaudible; then sat back, silent except for a furtive look towards Rama.

The recording stopped. Bob shook his head as Becky leaked a few silent tears.

“What she whispered to me,” said Dr. Rama, “was basically an offer for a sexual favor. I don’t get the feeling she was being devious; just desperate. If even half of what she told me was true, then sex is probably the only thing she feels she can offer a man to get something.

“She has agreed to meet with Becky tomorrow. She refuses to talk if you, Bob, are in the room. I’m sorry,” Rama finished.

Bob looked weary, and defensive. “Doc – you don’t believe her, do you? That crap about me raping her and selling her to slavery? I don’t know about all the other stuff, but I can guarantee you the part about me is false.”

“Robert. Nothing about you suggests you are an abuser. Having said that, I take all accusations with at least some validity until I’m sure that they are not true. Even if it is all false, I can tell you we will get nowhere right now with you and her in the same room.”

Bob sighed. “And if she changes her mind and is ‘okay’ with me being there?”

Rama’s expression hardened. “You would not be allowed to see her unless I personally determined that she is not in danger around you.” He paused for emphasis. “Now to both of you: good night. I shall see you tomorrow at around 10 a.m., Becky?”

“I’ll be there, sir,” she replied.

Bob looked at his wife. “We’re okay, right?”

Becky didn’t return his gaze. “Yeah … yes. We’re still okay. I believe you, Bobby. But know this: if I ever – ever – find out you’ve lied, about any part of this …” she walked on ahead without continuing her thought.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

The next morning, Becky showed up 30 minutes early to the consultation room at the psychiatric hospital. That surprised Dr. Rama slightly. What surprised him more was that Bob was there too.

“Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not here to try to be in the meeting with J.J., or Nova, or whoever the hell he is. I’m here to talk to you,” Bob growled.

“Before you two get started, I’ll just say my piece about this,” injected Becky. “I believe your view on this, Doctor. I just wish you had told me how controversial this still is. I guess I feel I was led to believe it was all established science.”

“Let’s sit down. I think I know where this is going,” replied Dr. Rama. “Go ahead, Bob.”

Bob obliged. “Multiple personality disorder – dissociative identity disorder – D.I.D. I read up on it. There are no set diagnostic criterions – critecals –“

“Criteria,” said Rama.

“Yeah. That. There’s no evidence that it is actually a real ‘thing’! Hell, every other psych problem – schizophrenia, bipolar, depression – is proven by research, and they have set standards that a person has to show before you can label them with those diagnoses. This D.I.D. doesn’t! It seems to be a mainly North America problem, kind of like ADHD* used to be –"

“Except there are definite criteria for ADHD now. We just needed time to define them.”

Bob’s eyes flared with anger. “Many psychiatrists seem to feel that your profession causes this D.I.D. with hypnosis and over-diagnosis. Others say that patients make up these ‘alters’ because they’ve seen that old TV show ‘Sybil’ and too many other horror movies; these ‘alters’ make it possible to do horrible things, and then blame it on one of the ‘bad personalities’. Meanwhile, you shrinks just lament about how treatment may not work, but you keep on treating – and keep on charging for your treatments. Sounds like a huge scam to me!”

“Bob. I am usually one of those doubting psychiatrists,” replied Rama. “I have been involved in a few cases back when I worked at the University of Florida Medical School where I felt that some people labeled as D.I.D. patients were actually malingering – ‘faking it’. But I have indeed seen cases of true splitting of the psyche, where no other illness was present to explain the symptoms. So it is with J.J./Nova. The only reason I have diagnosed your child with D.I.D. is that no other diagnosis comes remotely close to fitting.

“It could very well be that Nova is malingering – but I doubt it. To fake it this well, she would need to have a medical diploma and acting degree from a distinguished fine arts school. Now, I’m not perfect – far from it – but I’m doing the best I know how to do with her. I am NOT trying to bleed money from you for her case. If I had wanted the big bucks, I would have gone into surgery. Or dermatology. I hope that clears things up for you. Does it?” Rama asked hopefully.

Bob’s brow was still knit with suspicion. “It makes this clear for me: you’re a quack. And I’m going to want a second opinion and different treatment center unless we see a breakthrough, and I mean quickly.”

Dr. Rama pursed his lips as he absorbed that information. “Understood. I would like to have another 48 hours with her – and with you two – before you decide to move her. Is that acceptable?”

“No promises, Doc. I’ll take this day-by-day, or hour-by-hour, if necessary. Becky, text me as soon as you’re through with the meeting, ok?” Bob turned and walked away.

“I’ll call you,” yelled Becky.

“Do you have any questions for me, ma’am?” queried Rama.

“Let’s just do this meeting,” Becky sighed.

~o~O~o~

Dr. Rama, Becky and Nova sat once more in the psychiatrists’ office at Passages Psychiatric Hospital. The window had already been repaired, and Nova was in restraints to make sure there would not be a repeat of the last meeting.

“I still don’t want to be here. And I don’t really want to talk to this bitch,” Nova snarked to Dr. Rama.

Becky replied. “Nova – I’m in the room. You can call me a bitch to my face. It won’t make –“

“Good morning then, bitch,” Nova interrupted.

Becky resumed without hesitation, “Good morning to you, Nova. As I was saying, it won’t make me leave. I’m here to help you.”

The teen gave Becky a huge eye roll. “You saw the tape. Rama told me he showed it to you. By the way, doc, thanks for doing that WITHOUT my permission. Really swell of you. So, you want to help me? Good. You know what I need. I need to get out of here, and back to Rio – and my Sabio. You have the power to do that, don’t you, lady? But I know you’re not going to. So what do we have left to talk about?”

“No, Nova – I’m not going to just let you go back to Rio. Number one, you’re still wanted for murder here, and once the hospital lets you go, the law will take you.”

“J.J. did that murder, not me!”

“Wait,” inserted Dr. Rama, “you said J.J. did the murder. Do you remember that? Are you sure of it? If so, we all need to know.”

Nova squinted her eyes shut in frustration. “No, of course I don’t remember it. I already told you – I just remember from after I woke up in Fortaleza. But I read the news reports when I did the ‘Evarist’ search in the library. Seems pretty clear-cut, pardon the pun – the girl got stabbed to death after sex. J.J. seems like the killer to me – or to anyone with a brain.”

“Well, there’s another reason I don’t want you to leave,” resumed Becky. “You are not the only one who owns this body. Somewhere inside you is J.J. – the sweet boy, my precious son. His personality still exists in you. It would be wrong not to let him back out.”

That got a leer and raised eyebrows from Nova. “You want J.J. the murderer back out?”

“My son. Is not. A murderer. Nothing has been proven. And even if he did do that, there has to be some circumstance – some extreme occurrence – that caused it. Maybe there are even more than two personalities in your body? God – maybe a horrible, murderous one that took over? I don’t know. But we’ve GOT to know. We must find out, and for that, J.J. needs to come back out!”

“Everybody wants this J.J. back,” the girl sighed. “No love for Nova, though, right? After all, it’s my body too.”

Becky looked back at the girl with affection. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nova. You’re part of J.J. So I do love you! Now, sometimes I don’t LIKE you – like when you call me a bitch, or call my husband a rapist without definite proof. All parents have times they don’t like their kids. But I absolutely do love you. I LOVE you. I don’t want to lose J.J. – but you’re part of him, so I don’t want to lose you either!”

Nova’s eye’s narrowed with hurt and anger. “That’s … a … LIE. Do you know how many times in that shitty basement in Fortaleza I would curl up in a ball and pray that someone would want me enough to rescue me? Hoped against hope that someone loved me enough to be looking for me? After half a year, I had resigned myself to this fact: NO ONE CARED. Or surely they would have found me!

“My dad sold me away! My mom had to be aware of it, right? So you had to have some idea of where to look for me. If it hadn’t been for divine intervention – Sabio – I’d still be in chains! So don’t tell me you ‘don’t want to lose me’. You LOST me two and a half years ago, and you DIDN’T FIND ME!”

Becky was weeping now, with wracking sobs that made a reply impossible.

Dr. Rama held his breath. This was a critical point in the therapy. It could blow up and the whole session devolve into screaming and yelling, and the patient would lose all progress she’d made so far. Or, as is the case with strong emotions, a breakthrough could be near. It all depended on the mother’s response; he silently rooted for her to give the right one.

Becky still cried, but forced herself to speak. “You’re absolutely right. I failed. Both Bob and I did. We looked for you ourselves, we organized family, took leaves of absence from work and our other commitments. We pushed the police to continue to search for you. I … I didn’t know where to look. Even the detective we hired – it took him over a year to find you, and even then he said it was by pure luck. In a million years I would not have guessed you were in Brazil.

“Every day and every night since you disappeared – I have wailed to God, hoping against hope that you were still alive and not suffering. I prayed for Him to take me if that would bring you back safe. Now, knowing what horrors you had to live through – I want to die. I failed you. God, I COMPLETELY failed you! The only reason I have to go on living is the hope that somehow I can help you heal. Because I love you.

“I love you so much! I LOVE you. YOU, Nova. Not just J.J. I love your passion, your eyes, and your soul. J.J. is my son; but I accept you as a daughter. You are a beautiful young woman, and I am proud to be your mother. Always remember that fact: I LOVE you, Nova. More than life itself.”

That passionate statement from Becky surprised Nova. For a minute there was an uncomfortable silence as the teen’s face was motionless. But her eyes began to fill, and then overflow with tears. “But … b-but … you CAN’T love me … why did you let Daddy rape me and sell me?”

“Honey. I really don’t think that happened. You’re going on the word of two monstrous abusive slavers. I’ve known your dad for years. He stains his shirts and his back is way too hairy and he has an occasional road rage issue; but he LOVES his kids. He’d give his life for you. When you disappeared, he was inconsolable – that’s why he packed on 130 pounds. Thank God he turned to food and not drugs or alcohol, but still. I’m not saying I can’t be fooled, but if your Daddy had anything to do with your horrific slave experience, I will eat my wedding dress. And I had the biggest, poofiest wedding dress ever made.”

That made Nova snicker a snerk in spite of her ongoing tears. Then she got serious again. “But … if Daddy didn’t do that to me … who did?”

Rama leaned forward. “Nova, maybe there are more than two alters in you. Another one could have done this, or may at least have information. Perhaps even J.J. will know. If you let me give you medicine and try hypnosis, we might find out.”

The young girl tied in restraints let her head flop forward and began to bawl. Becky started to rise out of her chair to go comfort her child. Dr. Rama held his hand up and shook his head.

“Let her process this,” he whispered.

So Becky sat on the edge of her seat, nails digging into the armrests, legs warding off the urge to kick the doctor in the nuts, and her own eyes again gushing. Then Nova choked out a word.

“…Okay.”

~o~O~o~

Tom the pilot saw his friend Finny watching a remote video feed. “Still spying on the Evarists, buddy?”

“Aaah, only now and then, to see if the kid is back. No trace of her since they called the ambulance to take her away that first night. Maybe she’s still in the loony bin.”

Tom sighed. “Breaking health privacy laws is a felony, isn’t it? How, pray tell, did you find out the kid was in a psych hospital?”

“A hunter has his sources,” Finny mumbled as he adjusted the frequencies on the video signal.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re ‘The Hunter’. You are so full of POOP!”

Finny was stunned to silence. That was the closest thing to a swear word he’d ever heard his friend say. He looked up at Tom, and saw a scowling, beet red angry face staring back at him.

“Look, Finny,” growled the pilot, “I’m up for doing illegal stuff, as long as it’s both morally right and profitable. This obsession with that kid is neither. And you’re going to risk everything you have – WE have – just to satisfy your curiosity? Well, I sure don’t want you taking me down with you. I’m making myself scarce until you stop all this foolishness. You can find me down at the airport doing rides-by-hire. Let me know if you come to your senses.” Tom turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, then out the front door of the office.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” mumbled Finny. What the hell am I doing? I need all the friends I can get, and without Tom my buddy count is – let’s see – ZERO. I just wish I could get that J.J. kid outta my head. Something’s still not right.

~o~O~o~

*ADHD: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

Dr. Ramanathan – ‘Rama’, as he requested to be called – was sitting the next morning in the interview room with Nova.

“I’m ready to start the induction, Nova. Are you? You appear to be tense.”

“Ah, no. I’m not tense. That’s not the phrase for it; what would be more fitting? OH. I know – I’m SCARED SHITLESS. I can’t believe I’m submitting to this. You could really hurt me, you know?”

Rama’s left eyebrow raised high. “Explain.”

“You’re going to hypnotize me, right? How do I know you won’t put thoughts in my head like “forget Rio, forget Sabio, forget being a woman – you’ve got to become a boy named J.J. and spend your life in jail.” How do I know you won’t brainwash me? Or somehow put ME to ‘sleep’, like J.J. has been for nearly 3 years? Forgive me, but there’s only one male I trust – and since your name isn’t Sabio, then you aren’t him.”

“Let me allay your fears some, Nova.” Dr. Rama walked to the intercom. “Ask Mrs. Walsh to come in to this interview room, please.”

In two minutes, a woman in her mid-30’s walked in. She had striking red hair in a butch cut, and was dressed rough – army green T-shirt, fatigue pants, full arm tattoos, roughed-up cowboy boots and fingerless gloves. Yet on her lapel was an ID tag showing her as a staff member of the hospital. She came to the desk where the doctor and patient were and pulled up a chair, then plopped down into it.

Nova stared, confused. “Who are you? The hospital bouncer?”

“HA! I like you,” laughed the woman. “Name’s Nicki Walsh. I’m one of the two patient advocates here – that means I make sure all these other mooks here treat you right. Including the Chief Mook,” – she pointed to Dr. Rama.

“Oh yeah? Where were you when they tied me up for my last session with my Mom? Is that ‘treating me right’?”

“Damn straight, honey. Can’t have you jumping out of any more buildings. So, why was I called, Doc?”

“Hello, Mrs. Walsh. Nova is about to have her first hypnotherapy session. She’s worried that I’ll take advantage of her during that time. Perhaps you can reassure her that you’ll be on her side in this.”

“Sure. Tell me what specifically you’re afraid of, girlfriend.”

Nova repeated her concerns.

“I gotcha,” said Nicki. “Here’s what we’ll do. This session is gonna be taped and timed. After it’s over, they’ll give me the recording; I’ll check it for any sign that you were mistreated or given suggestions to brainwash you. If I see any, there will be hell to pay. And I’ll do a visit with you afterwards no matter what, to tell you what I did and didn’t see on the recording.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “You work here with Dr. Rama. You wouldn’t get him in trouble; you’ll just look the other way.”

“Tell that to Dr. Cunningham, the old medical director from 5 years ago. I caught him making sexual advances towards a patient; turned him in, got his license revoked. I’ve gotten a bad nurse’s aide and an LVN kicked out for harmful or unprofessional behavior. The staff knows not to do wrong to my patients, and corporate wants to keep me around because JCHAO – the national hospital accrediting company – likes my work here.”

“Everybody knows: you don’t mess around with Nicki,” Dr. Rama said.

“Okay. I feel better about this,” Nova sighed.

“Catch you later today, kid,” said Nicki as she exited.

~o~O~o~

Nova was soon a deep trance.. She sat in the small closed interview room. Dr. Rama was guiding her, and was video-recording the session.

“Nova, can you still hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Nova, I want you to try to rest. Sleep, if you can. I’m going to probe your consciousness to see if anyone else is there. I’ll give you a minute to relax.”

A minute passed. Rama resumed.

“I’m looking for J.J. Evarist. J.J., I’m a doctor. Please respond,”

Nothing.

“Okay. Is there anyone else living with J.J. and Nova? If so, please come out. I’d like to meet you. This is a safe place for you.”

Again, nothing – until half a minute had passed, then the young girl in the room began to pull up her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her head. Her face contorted into a grimace, and she began a grunting, humming chant: “NNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnn…”

Dr. Rama pushed a button, a silent signal for a nurse to come assist. Sue Holden RN arrived quickly.

“Come help me calm her,” Rama urged in a hushed tone.

The nurse gently stroked Nova’s arm as the doctor sat to the side, talking. “It’s going to be okay. You are in no danger. I’m a doctor, but I will only have women touching you. Do you have a name?”

The girl stopped chanting, but kept her eyes squeezed shut. Yet, there was another response: a slow, definite nodding of the head.

“You have a name. Can you tell me your name?”

A barely audible whisper came from the girl’s lips, not clear enough to comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, I could not understand that,” said Rama. “Can you repeat it, louder?”

The whisper answered, slightly stronger. “Meow.”

“Your name is … Meow?”

The girl’s head shook back and forth in a clear ‘no’.

“You sound like a kitty cat,” remarked nurse Holden. “Are you … a cat?”

Again, a ‘no’ response.

Dr. Rama ventured a guess. “Is your name Kitty?”

The head nodded emphatically.

Rama smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Kitty. You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Head shake, ‘no’.

"How old are you, Kitty?" Rama was guessing that he might be dealing with a preschool aged alter. "Can you hold up your fingers to show me how many years?"

'Kitty' held up her ring, middle and pointer fingers on her right hand.

I don’t know how long we’ll have her with us, so I might as well jump into the deep questions, Rama mused. “Kitty. I have to ask you some hard questions now. Some of them may remind you of really bad things, and you not want to remember them. I need you to be very brave, and answer them if you can. Do you understand?"

Kitty nodded her head.

"I need to know the answers because other people may get hurt if I don't know them. I promise you will be safe here, and nothing bad will happen when you answer. Nurse Holden will be right with you, and we are going to protect you here. Will you help us, Kitty?"

There was no response at first; then, one single but firm nod of the head.

"Good girl. Okay, Kitty. Here we go. Do you remember a girl named Missy Renquist?'

Nod.

"Tell me: is Missy still alive?"

The head shook "no".

"Did someone kill Missy?"

Nod.

"Did you ... see them kill her?"

Nod.

"Can you tell me - or show me - what you saw?"

Kitty opened her eyes - they had been mostly closed since she'd appeared - and reached over to Rama's hand that held his ball point Mont Blanc he was writing with. She wrapped her fingers around the pen and tugged. Rama had mixed feelings about letting a patient have a sharp device, but allowed her to take it.

"Be careful not to hurt yourself, Kitty." Or us, he thought.

Kitty held the big pen in her hand as one would hold an icepick. She raised her arm, and then slammed the pen down onto the desktop, ball point first. She rapidly repeated this action over and over. Dr. Rama nodded to the nurse, who squeezed Kitty's upper arm, and rubbed it.

"That's good, Kitty. You can stop now."

Rama felt numb in realization of what they had just been told by the alter. He glanced up at the video monitor to make triple-sure that the red RECORD light was still on; of course, it was. He turned back to his patient.

"Kitty. Did YOU do that to Missy?"

Vigorous head shaking no.

"So it was someone else. Did you see who stabbed Missy?"

There was a long pause; then a nod.

"Do you know this person? Do you know their name?"

Nod.

The doctor and nurse glanced at each other, both aware of the gravity of what they were hearing.

"Please tell me that person's name, Kitty."

There was no response to that, even after patient waiting and repeating the question.

Blast. I’ll just stick to yes/no questions, thought Rama.

"Kitty. When Missy was stabbed, did something bad happen to you - your body - right before or after?"

The girl nodded; then pointed to her buttocks with her left hand.

"Someone touched you in a bad place, then. Missy - do you know what a 'rape' is?"

Multiple head nods.

"Are you saying - that someone raped you when Missy got murdered?"

Kitty's head nodded slowly, as a tear began running down her cheek.

"Is the person who raped you the same person who killed Missy?"

She started sobbing as she clearly nodded her head yet again.

The nurse held her breath in shock.

Hang in there, child. Just answer one more question, and I'll stop. “Kitty – can you whisper the name of that person to me?”

Kitty did not respond with a word or head movement. She was still and silent for a moment, then the humming came back –

“NNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnn…” – except it got louder and louder until it was almost a guttural scream, accompanied by increasing thrashing, so severe that Nurse Holden could barely maintain her in the chair.

Dr. Rama punched the intercom – “Bring me one of the shots!”

~o~O~o~

Becky and Bob Evarist arrived separately at Passages. Both had been called there urgently, so Becky came from a luncheon she’d been attending and Bob took off work. Bob walked up to his wife who was sitting on one of the waiting couches just outside of Dr. Rama’s office. Then the door to that office opened, and Dr. Rama stepped out.

“You’re both here! Excellent. Please come inside – I have significant news to report on your child’s case.”

“I hope it’s good news,” replied Becky. “Despite the progress you and I had with Nova yesterday, I’m starting to despair. I miss my J.J.”

“Come in, please, and sit down,” urged Rama.

Both parents entered, to an unexpected sight. There was Nova, sitting in a chair. She was in full head to toe restraints, though, and she was asleep, with her head leaning up against the back of the chair.

“What’s this?” barked Bob. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be in her presence?”

“She’s currently sedated. I want to play the recording of this morning’s session for both of you.” Rama turned on the big monitor in the room.

Fifteen minutes later, the video ended.

Becky was agape. “Doctor – will we be able to find out more from her? From this Kitty alter?”

“I think it’s not only possible, I think it’s likely. And since we had a breakthrough with producing an alter other than Nova, it makes me hopeful that we can see J.J. soon. I had to sedate Kitty at the end there – you saw how she got – but sometimes an antipsychotic shot can stimulate the emergence of other alters. Maybe even the main personality – J.J.”

Bob snorted. “Forgive me for remaining a skeptic, but this is all pretty convenient for you, isn’t it? I put my foot down demanding results and voila’, major breakthrough! Why couldn’t you achieve this a week ago? And this Kitty ‘alter’ – she is fingering someone else for the murder, but that doesn’t prove anything. A good prosecutor is going to claim that J.J. is doing a hell of an acting job, all to garner sympathy and create reasonable doubt. Are we really any closer to J.J. coming back? It just seems like you’re producing more and more alters, and they’re getting weirder and weirder.”

Dr. Rama was crestfallen. “I thought you would be happy to see the progress.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” said Bob. “I’m happy to see anything happen at this point. I just don’t trust that it’s all real yet. I don’t trust this – this Nova person. If she really is a person, and not just some perverted imaginary thing. Hell, I don’t know what to believe anymore. Except this: I still think you, doctor, are a quack.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Bob,” said Rama, shaking his head.

Rebecca broke in. “Doctor – I’m so heartbroken today. That person over there is my son. My missing son! Yet, he’s somebody else. I miss my son. I miss him so much. When will I get my son back? Will I ever get him back?”

“Ma’am. I need your patience,” pled Rama. “This injection is in him, working; as soon as the sedation wears off, we’ll see if he returns to us. Don’t give up. I know how horrible this must-“

“Shut up. No. No you don’t. You DON’T know,” wailed Becky. “Unless you’ve been in my position – our position – you have NO idea about what we are feeling. And we’re not even the main victims here! Jacoby – my sweet J.J. – God, what horrors he’s gone through! I’m sorry; forgive my rudeness, doctor –“

Bob jumped in. “Don’t apologize to the quack. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Becky held her face in her hands. “Doctor … I must have J.J. back. I need my son.”
She then raised her head up. “Bob needs him too. We are living in hell right now, with J.J. being so close that we can touch him, yet this – this girl –“

“This IMPOSTER,” snarled Bob.

His wife resumed. “This stranger has taken over, and I don’t know her, and she refuses to leave! Doctor, put yourself in our position and tell us that we shouldn’t be hurting and fearful and angry and – and -” She stopped as she broke into tears.

Suddenly there was a scraping on the floor, a loud one, coming from the direction of the chair that Nova was in. The doctor and the parents all fell silent as they saw the child’s eyes open, and scanning the room. There was a new look on Nova’s face – one of bewilderment, disorientation. Yet, there was something familiar in that face; something Becky had not seen in nearly 3 years.

The mother’s heart jumped into her throat. “J.J.?”

The child looked at her, still confused and a little panicked. “M - Mom? What’s going on?”

Jacoby Jesse Evarist woke up.

~o~O~o~

Please refer to the last half of chapter 1 to see what happened immediately after this point in the story.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

J.J. was usually a non-stop talker. He lay in the treatment room at Passages Psychiatric Hospital where a nurse could constantly attend to him. Since awakening from his fainting spell, he just lay still and sobbed, his arms crossing his chest to keep his breasts out of his immediate vision. Dr. Rama now came to visit him.

As he approached his patient, the doctor said nothing. What he did do was pull up a chair next to the gurney and sit down there. He had a box of tissues, and he started doling them out to the teen.

Finally J.J. choked out a sentence. “What (sob) do you need?”

“I myself don’t need anything; I’m here so you won’t feel alone. So you know that I care about you, and so does every one else here.”

“Don’t you (sob) have more important things (sob) to do? You’re a doctor.”

“Right now, nothing is more important than me being here.”

J.J. took a bit to bawl out long and loud. In a few seconds he spoke again.

“I need my momma. If (sob, sniff) you want me comforted, she’s who I need.”

“I wish I could allow it. I cannot. This is even more complicated than you realize, J.J.; the local law is involved, and they have a say in where you stay. If I broke the rules for you, they might not look favorably on your case.”

“My (sniff) case? You mean my medical case?”

“No, unfortunately. Your court case.”

“I’m in trouble … with the law?? (sniff, sob) – my God, how much more worse does this nightmare get?”

“Worse than this, I’m afraid. We need to have a sit down visit where I go over what happened that night at homecoming, and what has happened since. You also need a physical hygiene primer for your new body; I’ll have our head clinical nurse do that with you. But you’re pretty upset now. I won’t proceed with these until you’re ready –“

“I’m ready.”

Rama was taken aback. “I don’t think you really are, Jacoby.”

“Doc. Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way. Otherwise the dread of what’s to come will be worse than going through it (sniff). Please.”

Rama sighed. “Okay – starting in the morning. You’ve been through enough today. I’m going to start you on a medicine to deal with depression and PTSD; the nurse will bring your first dose tonight.”

“Forget that. I don’t want to be a doped up zombie.”

“That’s not what this med does. It won’t dope you up or even make you artificially happy; it just helps keep the black cloud overhead from being quite as big and dark as it could be. It takes at least 2 weeks to work, so we should get started now. If you need help getting you to sleep tonight, I’ll give you a sleeping pill too; they should be safe to take for a short time until your other med kicks in. Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet with the clinical nurse – unless you change your mind, which is OK.”

~o~O~o~

The next morning J.J. was mute again through much of the visit with the clinical nurse.

“We won’t go over bras, hose or makeup; this is mainly learning about basic female body maintenance,” Nurse Fredrickson said. “Here’s how you do a breast self exam.”

J.J. was very careful and slow doing feeling for lumps in his bosom. Especially his nipples; they were hyper-touchy, and he jumped when he pressed on them to make sure they weren’t oozing any abnormal liquid. Next came adjusting to a new center of gravity, what with his new chest and hips; when he tried bending over in his usual 14-year-old boy way, he nearly toppled forward.

“Take shorter steps, J.J. – at least until you get more familiar with your hips. A fall and injury is the last thing you need.”

“Okay, remember, you must sit every time you use the toilet now. And you will always need some paper of some type. So check for it when you choose a stall. If you don’t have paper after urinating, you’ll be left with the decision to stain your pants or to sit there and air dry.”

Jacoby finally spoke up. “Air dry? I’ve never heard … is this what normal girls talk about?”

“Welcome to the glamorous joy of being a woman,” the nurse empathized. “Okay. We saved the toughest for last: care of your vagina.”

Jacoby wondered why applying a simple thing like a panty liner was so difficult to get right. Maybe I’m just nervous about having to PREPARE MY PANTIES. I WEAR PANTIES NOW. GOD.

Now Jacoby lay on his back, knees flexed and feet together on the bed. And nothing on from the waist down.

“Put the lubricant on your finger; now, apply it into the opening down there. Oops! A little more to the center – there you go.” Nurse Fredrickson gave him two thumbs up.

J.J. moved to a sitting position on the table, covering his girlish groin with his hands. “Ah, nurse – I just realized – I’m putting lubricant INTO MY VAGINA. There’s only one reason I’d be doing that – and I am NOT having sex with another dude!”

“Honey, you're 'lubing' down there for another reason. For general vaginal health – whether you ever have sex there or not – you need to keep your vagina dilated. We’re going to go over that; you’re overdue for it, likely.” She held up four items of different color and size, but all the same shape.

“Dildos?”

“No, honey. Dilators.”

“DILDOS??” J.J. suddenly looked pale and woozy. The nurse laid him back down on the exam table until the color was back in his face.

Then, like a trooper, J.J. grit his teeth and performed his first vaginal dilation.

~o~O~o~

The afternoon session was much more traumatic than the morning. J.J. saw the recordings of Nova’s sessions, jaw agape at seeing him in his female form, acting in ways and talking with language that he never would have thought he’d do or say.

He almost passed out once more when he heard of Missy’s murder. He sat on the floor in the corner of Dr. Rama’s office and bawled for an hour straight. Then he stared dumbfounded as Rama eventually told him that he was the chief suspect.

He had no recollection of his father ever hurting him. Rama suspected that some of J.J.’s memories somehow were being repressed, but he could not prove it. The doctor did not show the video of Kitty to J.J., but rather told him the gist of it.

Dr. Rama let the staff know to watch out for any suicidal behavior or speech from the unfortunate young man; he’d not shown any tendency for that, but Rama felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

In a few more days, there was a very positive breakthrough.

J.J. was meeting once more with the doctor and both of his parents (Bob was now allowed to be present, as his presence actually seemed to produce calm in J.J. rather than agitation). The boy sat up and made an announcement.

“I’ve been contemplating my life, and what’s happened to me. I don’t like any of it. In fact, I HATE my current condition. I mean, I’m suddenly a female, and my girlfriend is DEAD, and I’M wanted for murdering her! What in God’s name did I do to have all of this happen to me? Speaking of God, how could He have let this happen? Does He hate me, or is He dead, or what? What … why –”

J.J. began weeping hard, his body jerking with sobs. Becky started to rise out of her chair, but caught herself and turned her head quickly to stare at Dr. Rama.

Rama was trained to interpret body language, but a toddler could have read Becky’s look. It said allow me to comfort my son or I will hurt you. He nodded his head and waved Becky towards her child; she was at his side in a millisecond with a box of tissues.

The tears gushed for a good minute. Then, J.J. pulled himself together and blew his nose clean, wiped his eyes, and set a look of determination in his doe-like eyes and tiny chin.

“So, yeah; this sucks. But I am not a quitter. Mom, Dad – you taught me never to give up, and to make the best I could of any situation. So: I’m going to do that. I don’t know what “the best” of this looks like; but that’s the one choice I have, so that’s what I’m going to do. I believe that in spite of all this, there has to be some purpose for my life. I can still accomplish something.”

That statement produced more tears, but mainly from his mother and father.

J.J. now appeared worried. “But, I’m afraid … I’m going to need a TON of help. And I’ve already been such a burden on you two.”

“The only burden was when you weren’t around, son,” Becky smiled. “Together, somehow, we’ll all get through it.”

“Amen, J.J. I’m right with you, buddy,” chimed Bob.

Becky turned to the doctor. “Is there any chance that he can come stay at home while he continues his therapy with you? He might do better there, now that he’s ‘himself’ again.” An unmistakable yearning could be heard in her voice.

Rama rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “Not yet. You, Bob and I need to talk after J.J. goes back to his room here.”

~o~O~o~

Once J.J. was gone, Rama didn’t beat around the bush. “The district attorney called me to get an update on his progress. I am working closely with your defense lawyer to make sure I disclose only what I legally am required to. Still, the D.A. feels that it’s time to schedule your son’s murder trial. He told me it would be on the docket as early as possible, unfortunately.”

Bob growled with anger. “That grandstanding bastard is up for re-election, and wants to be in the headlines with a ‘big win for the people’s justice’. Our son being sex-changed will only make this a juicier story for him and the papers.”

“Also,” added Rama, “they demand J.J. be kept under lock and key. They already feel he has been a fugitive from justice; if I discharge him from the hospital, he will be sent to jail without bond while awaiting trial.”

Becky was pale as a ghost. “Doctor – then you must keep him here, please! As long as possible! This place is not home, but I shudder to think what would happen to my son in jail! Oh god – please tell me you won’t release him!” She looked at her husband. “Bob – what if he’s sent to prison? What if he’s sent to men’s prison? More torture and then death! I – I don’t want to continue living if that happens!”

“Shh –shh, baby. This isn’t over yet,” Bob whispered as he pulled his wife’s head to his shoulder, and then looked to Dr. Rama. “Until the trial at least, can he stay here?”

“I don’t think our work is done here,” Rama answered with a nod. “We are so close to finding out what Kitty knows. That may or may not help J.J.’s case.”

Bob whistled with relief. “Thanks, Doc. Have you seen any sign of Nova since J.J.’s come back?”

“No.”

“Well, great. Good riddance.”

“Bob … Nova is part of your son’s personality, whether you like her or not. She likely will return, sooner or later. I suggest treating her with love, even if she doesn’t reciprocate.”

The father suddenly was clenching his jaw; his face was red and his eyes were leaking. “God … I was so stupid! I knew, I knew what happens on prom nights! That’s when half the girls at school get knocked up! I should’ve given them an earlier curfew; I should’ve stayed home to enforce it; I should’ve chaperoned them; I should’ve done something more, or different! Maybe all of our lives would still be going boringly normal still. God, what I wouldn’t give to go back …”

Now it was Becky who was comforting her spouse, with whispers and light brushes on his cheek with the soft tips of her fingers.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

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."

~o~O~o~

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.

~o~O~o~

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.”

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

The next day, Becky was back at her house preparing for the special home session that Dr. Rama had arranged with Detective Castro. They were all to arrive within the hour. She and Bob had spent half the night readying J.J.'s room for the session; moving all the storage out and replacing the bed and shelves and posters as it had been when the boy had gone missing. Now Becky was exhausted, and her feelings ran the emotional gamut – exhilaration and hope at what they might be close to learning, and trepidation that the truth would destroy her child and by extension her family.

She needed someone to talk to. Bob was in the middle of his workday. Most of her friends sympathized with her, but not with J.J.; everyone in town pegged him for Missy’s murder. She was going crazy. She called Grandma Lizzy, but got only her voicemail.

Grandpa E – voicemail. Same with her sister. She decided to call J.J.’s older brother Dustin, even though she knew she’d get voicemail – and he’d never respond, as usual. She dialed the number despite the futility of the action.

Then, amazingly, he answered. “Yo, Mom. What do you need?”

“Dustin! Thank you for answering. I miss talking to you-“

“Sorry Mom, I’m in a pretty big traffic snarl. I won’t be able to stay on long.”

“Dustin, just listen for a second. J.J.’s back.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then “WHAT! OH MY GOD! J.J.? That’s GREAT! When? Is he okay? Where was he? Did the police finally track him down? Where is he staying?”

“It’s a long, complicated, twisted tale, honey. There’s no way I could cover it all in a quick phone call. He was … mentally ill, pretty badly. We had to put him in the psychiatric hospital here.”

“Oh God! That’s - that’s horrible! Is he getting better?”

“Yes, son – but there’s been things done to him that – well, let’s just say his life is changed forever. I wish you were here in person. He could really use a visit from you.”

“Mom, believe it or not, right now I’m about 30 minutes away from Kissimmee! I dropped a load off at Port Canaveral and was headed back to Tampa; I’m entering Orlando’s outskirts in a few minutes. How about I take a detour and come over; then, if visiting hours are still in effect, maybe I can see him in the hospital?”

“Oh! Dustin, that’s fantastic! Just come to the house, honey! The doctor is bringing him here for a special one-time session in his bedroom where all of the bad stuff happened, to see if we can stimulate his memory. We all need to know what really happened the night he disappeared. The police will have a car or two outside, but maybe we can have them bend the rules so you two can share a hug. Heck, Bob’s even trying to get off work early for this, so we would have our whole family back here for the first time in years!”

There was prolonged silence from Dustin’s phone. “MOM – J.J.’s going to be in the house – and Dad’s going to have access to him? And the cops are going to be there, but not right inside with him?”

“Well, that’s the plan, as I understand it. Why are you sounding so concerned?”

“Mom. Just listen to me with an open mind. J.J.’s in danger. Don’t let him physically be around Dad!”

Becky’s mouth dropped. “What? W-what do you mean?”

“Mom, there is stuff that Dad does – and has done. He did it to me, and I’m sure that he’s done it to J.J. Why do you think I hardly show my face over there anymore?”

“What – what do you mean, son? What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“GOD, Mom – SEX STUFF. It’s hard to even talk about it, okay? Just KEEP J.J. AWAY FROM DAD.”

“Son, if this is so, why haven’t you told me before?”

“You don’t think that after J.J. disappeared I didn’t kick myself every day, knowing I should have done more to protect him? I left as soon as I turned 17; J.J. was still 12. I guess I thought he was safe, since Dad only seemed to target me. Then when that Missy girl was found stabbed, and J.J. gone, I knew Dad was the cause – he probably screwed J.J. over – literally – so much that something snapped. Dad knows J.J. can finger him for part of this – and who knows what Dad will do to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“I – I find this hard to believe. I’m going to confront your father!”

“MOM, NO – aw, nuts – Mom, that will just put you in danger too! Tell the police what I said, and then you just protect J.J., ok?”

“Dustin … what do I do? They are probably on their way over here with J.J. already. Bob may be on his way too!”

“I’m about 25 minutes from you now. If I can get there before Dad does, I’ll handle him. Believe me, I’m big enough now that I can stop him. But if the police get there with J.J., tell them to be on the lookout for that creep I used to call “father”. If Dad gets there before the cops do – Mom, do you still know how to use the shotgun you guys keep in the gun safe?”

Becky’s head was spinning like a cyclone. “I – I haven’t used it since the firearm classes we took ten years ago.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d re-acquaint myself with it ASAP. Be there in 20. God keep y’all safe.”

~o~O~o~

Marcus Finlandt, detective and bounty hunter, was frustrated. For the last 24 hours the feed from the Evarist house was nothing but snow on the screen.

I’ll bet it’s a faulty relay unit; the primary transmitter I used is super-reliable. Unless they found it and got rid of it or snapped the power cord. If it’s just the relay, I’ll be able to pick it up if I get within 100 yards of the home. But I’ve been monitoring the conversation in the home, and it’s all benign. The parents seem clean. I’ll chalk up my gut feeling to paranoia and quit this little side adventure. I just need to discretely retrieve my unit. The wife is probably home alone; I can ask her if I can come in, and when she’s not looking I’ll snag my transmitter.

He brushed the remnants of some potato chips from his chin, grabbed his laptop computer/monitor, and trotted out to his black GMC SUV. As usual, he was packing his Glock pistol and stun gun. He jumped in, started the engine, and screeched off down the 11-mile trip to the Evarist house.

Unnoticed by the hunter was a man straddling a motorcycle on the side of the road. This person wore jeans and a buttoned denim jacket; fairly hot attire for Florida in the summer. Peeking out from the lower edge of the jacket was the handle of a baseball bat; the rest of the bat was hidden. This man watched with binoculars as Finlandt came out of the house and entered the SUV. He made note of the long coarse hair pulled into a low ponytail, the handlebar mustache, and the dark sunglasses.

As Finlandt took off down the road, the motorcyclist fired up his hog and followed.

Found you, thought the biker. Now you give me what I want or you’re a dead man.

~o~O~o~

Ten minutes later, a patrol car rolled up to the Evarist house and parked in the front. Detective Castro, Doctor Ramamurthy, and patient J.J. Evarist exited the cruiser. Castro had a firm grip on the child’s thin, feminine upper arm as they approached the front door. Becky opened the door as the trio approached; her eyes focused in on her offspring.

“Welcome home, son of mine,” she stated in spite of J.J.’s lithe girlish appearance. “Even if it is just for an hour.” She tried her best to hide the panic building in her.

Castro barked out the rules. “I’ll keep an eye on you guys from my car. After 60 minutes I need a phone call for an update. No one – NONE of you – leave the house by any opening except this front door, and even then not without calling me first.

“I’ve got a unit with police lieutenant Mike Chan parked in back just to make sure we’re watching you from as many angles as we can. Believe me, you don’t want to get caught by Chan; he will take you down hard. I get suspicious about anything, and I am calling this off and you go back to the locked unit at the psych ward,” he said glaring at J.J.

“Roger that, sir,” smiled J.J.

Becky whispered in Detective Castro’s ear. “I need to speak to you and Dr. Rama right now – and out of earshot of J.J.”

Castro shook his head. “That would mean leaving this fugitive,” he pointed to J.J., “alone. No can do, even for a second. Tell the doc here, and I’ll stand in the far corner of the room with the suspect. Then we’ll switch places and you can tell me.”

Becky gave Dr. Rama the quick run through of what Dustin had just told her. The doctor was shocked.

“Becky. I am stunned. Do you believe Dustin?”

“I – I don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel totally lost right now. I’m looking to you, Doctor. What should we do?”

Rama frowned in concentration. “We’ll take all accusations with a grain of salt – but also, take them seriously. At least until we’ve proven that they are false. I will tell Detective Castro; he’ll take care of this. Thank God the police are here. Now you take J.J. from the detective and stand in the far corner where we both can see you while I relay this information to him.”

Becky watched the two men talk, and saw Det. Castro’s eyes grow wide with disbelief. She felt a tapping on her shoulder. It was her beautiful son/daughter, J.J., with a look of concern on his/her face.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

Becky saw no alternative but to confront the new concerns.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got to know something. I’ve just talked to Dustin, and he’s told me some horrible information. He’ll be here in less than half an hour to be with us and help me protect you. He also told me that your father probably … molested you when you lived with us before you disappeared. Please be honest with me. Has anything bad ever happened between you and your father?”

J.J.’s eyes were closed, and his chin was on his chest. He did not respond – until about 30 seconds later. He began humming: “NNNnnnNNNNnnNNNnnnNNNnnn…”

Becky gasped. Oh my God! He’s switched to Kitty!

She looked around the living room they were in; yes, Dr. Rama had brought the poster board from yesterday’s session. Running and grabbing it, she returned to Kitty’s side. Dr. Rama, seeing what was going on, now silently approached the two women and nodded to Becky to proceed as they had discussed.

“Kitty, this is Mommy. I love you, and am here to protect you. But I need you to help me. You told Dr. Rama that on this board was a picture of the person who raped you and killed Missy. I need you to point that person out to me. Would you do that for me, please?”

Kitty opened her eyes and looked at the pictures on the poster board. Her arms were contracted, and her hands balled up like fists under her chin. But a finger uncurled from her right hand and pointed towards the big picture in the upper right hand corner of the poster.

Dr. Rama silently gasped. Becky started to weep. She pointed her own hand to the picture, touching it, to make sure she understood Kitty.

“K-Kitty (sob) is the bad man in this picture?”

Kitty nodded her head emphatically.

It was a 5-year-old photo of her husband Bob, standing out in their front yard.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

Detective Castro walked back out to his car and got in quickly, not even bothering to close the door in the thick Florida heat. He kept an eye on the roads he could see around him as he picked up his car radio unit.

“This is Detective Ray Castro. I need an APB for Bob Evarist. Large overweight man driving a silver Buick Legac-“

Suddenly Castro was fighting for his breath, his very life. His vision was covered by something thick and sopping wet being pressed hard into his lips and nostrils. Noxious smelling liquid streamed into his nose, mouth and lungs. He dropped the radio and grabbed towards his face; his fingers felt the outline of a huge, gloved hand holding a wet cloth there. Castro grabbed the attacking limb by the wrist and attempted to pull it away, and he tried to squirm – but he quickly felt his strength dissolving, followed by his consciousness. He now was no longer awake enough to feel the finality of death overtake him.

Castro’s final earthly thought was Chan - Help!

He had no way of knowing that the Lieutenant stationed at the back door was dead. Chan had gotten the same treatment as Castro, one minute earlier.

~o~O~o~

Dr. Rama was inside on his cell phone relaying information on Bob Evarist to another detective at the police station when he saw Becky re-enter the living room where he and J.J. were.

She had a huge shotgun with her.

“Becky – I’m not comfortable with you bringing that in here.”

“To hell with your comfort, doctor. I’m protecting my child.”

“Becky, the police are outside. They will give us all the protection we need. See? I’m pulling back the blinds; there’s Detective Castro – “

Castro was indeed there. Sitting in his car, door closed, and head leaned back as if asleep. The physician noted a darkening blue tint on the lawman’s face as the sun reflected off of it; he also noted the total absence of any movement. Was he even breathing?

“Ma’am, keep J.J. here. I’m going to … talk to the detective. I’ll be right back.” Rama didn’t want to unduly upset Becky further, not with a firearm in her grasp. He exited the front door and quickly began to approach the cruiser, carefully scanning all of his surroundings.

All of his surroundings except directly behind him. That’s where the big arm came from, grasping his neck and choking him furiously and silently until he passed out.

~o~O~o~

Finny fretted as he drove up towards the Evarist house and saw the police cruiser in front.

So much for getting my transmitter back today. Too much heat. Wait. What in the hell?

The officer in the cruiser looked to be asleep. Then Finny saw through one of the hedge lines to see the outline of someone lying on their back ‘spread eagle’ and motionless on the lawn. He scanned the rest of the grounds but saw no one else; the outside front doorway was excluded from his vision by a huge citrus tree in the yard.

Finny quickly opened up his laptop and engaged his transmitter; he got a quality sound and video signal from inside the main hallway of the house. He turned the volume on high and hit the RECORD function.

~o~O~o~

Becky had just checked the shotgun; it was full with shells, so she pulled up on the barrel until it clicked in place. She reviewed in her head: Loaded. Safety off. When ready, pull back on this part to ‘cock’ it. Aim and shoot.

“Mom? What’s going on?” said a girl’s voice to her side.

“J.J.! Is that you?”

He smiled. “Who else would it be?”

“Kitty was present just a few minutes ago.”

“REALLY? I just changed to her? I don’t remember it at all. I hate that. What’s the gun for? And – have you been crying?”

“Yes, I have. And the gun is for our protection. Honey, this is too convoluted to explain right now, and I don’t know that we have time for me to go into it because I’m so confused. I just know I want you safe, and you need to trust me, OK?”

“Okay,” said J.J. with a worried look.

Suddenly, Becky heard the unmistakable rumble of a large diesel engine outside of their door. She looked out the window – there was a big gray truck cab, without a trailer attached. DTT was printed on the side – Becky recognized that as short for “Dustin’s Tampa Trucking”.

“He’s here,” she mumbled to herself.

“Who’s here, Mom?” J.J. asked, walking up behind her.

Becky looked back at J.J. foggily. “I didn’t tell you?”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Becky opened it to see her older son, Dustin. He was rippled with muscles and tanned; clean shaven, and with a close-cropped buzz cut on his scalp. He wore a sleeveless tee that was stained with sweat.

“I’m here. And it looks like Dad is too.” Dustin said with alarm.

“B-Bob’s here?” Becky gasped.

“I haven’t seen him, but I see his work in the police cruiser and the dude on the lawn.” Dustin could see from Becky’s bewilderment that she knew nothing about what he’d just mentioned. “Look – I’ll explain later. Let’s get inside and set up a safe room; I’ll stand guard.”

Becky looked over at J.J. “Jacob, look who it is! Your brother, Dust-“ she stopped in mid-sentence.

Kitty was back. She sat on the floor, knees pulled up under her chin, and arms wrapped around her legs. “NNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnnNNNnnn…”

“What the hell – who is this girl?” gaped Dustin.

“This girl is your brother. She was changed into a female by kidnappers. And as a result of all her trauma, she now has multiple personalities. This is one of them; her name is Kitty, and she appears to be a young child.”

“What the – is this for real or are we in the twilight zone? J.J. is a transsexual freak?”

“Careful how you speak around your brother – or, sister right now,” admonished Becky. “Kitty has been essential in understanding what’s gone on. She’s the only personality who remembers who really killed Missy Renquist; the same person who raped J.J.’s body.”

Dustin turned pale. “Dad, right?”

Becky began to cry once more. “Yes. Bob. You were right. I’m married to a monster.”

Dustin’s face glared with urgency. “Speaking of that monster – there’s two dead guys out front. Dad’s here, somewhere. We need to get y’all out of this hallway NOW, to an interior room, where I can hold him off with your gun.”

Becky was near total meltdown. “Dustin! Can we make a run for your truck? I’m not staying here one more second in this horrible place! Take J.J. and me in somewhere safe, and I’ll get the law involved after we’re there. Will you stay with us and protect us for right now?”

“Ah,” Dustin thought – “OK. Yeah. Let me look out the front door to make sure the coast is – ”

“NNN! NNN-NNN-NNN!” Kitty’s humming got violently loud suddenly.

Becky put her arm around Kitty. “Baby, I need you to stand up. We need to-“

Kitty suddenly straightened and extended her whole right arm, and reached over to the poster board with the pictures on it. Becky had it with her to take it to the police for evidence. Kitty now pointed her finger to the same big picture of Bob standing in the yard from five years ago.

Becky sighed. “Yes honey, that’s the bad man. Your Da-“ … she stopped talking as her blood froze in her veins.

Kitty’s finger was now actually touching that picture, but not on Bob’s form. Instead, it rested on a partially obscured person sitting on the porch behind Bob.

Dustin.

Becky looked up at her oldest. She couldn’t fully mobilize all of her faculties in the midst of the sudden new shock and horror flooding her brain. “D … Dustin??”

The older brother wore a new look of disgust and inconvenience. “Well, shit,” he remarked as he brought his fist down on his mother’s face in rapid multiple punches.

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

“HOLY SHIT!”

Finny was sitting in his SUV, watching and listening to the goings on via electronic feed. He had been on high alert when he saw the scene outside – but this new man’s vicious attack suddenly sent his brain into five-alarm panic. He furiously dialed 911 on his cell phone and began to don his Kevlar vest.

~o~O~o~

Dustin dragged the limp, unconscious body of his mother away from the front doorway and down the hall. He dropped her at the window area, and then closed the louvers. He then glanced at the girlish person he once knew as his brother; she was still Kitty, going “NNNnnnNNNNnnn.”

“Man, J.J. You really got screwed up, didn’t you? That’s freakin’ hilarious.” He walked back and closed the front door. “Unfortunately, what I needed was for you to get dead. Now, this is a mess … and unlike last time, I’m not sure how to cover it up.”

Dustin mused for a minute over the heap he had made of his mom and Kitty, lying together in the hallway. ““Okay, I think this is the best thing I can figure. Hopefully my prior talk with Mom has the PD looking out for Dad, not me. That buys me a small piece of time. I’ll take both of you, drop you deep in the ‘glades, and then start over in Mexico.” He shook his head. “Mexico. Lousy roads for trucking.”

“Why?”

Dustin looked up. “Who said that?”

“Me. Down here. J.J.” Kitty’s alter was gone, and Dustin’s younger sibling was back. “Why, Dustin? I heard what you said. You said you ‘covered it up last time’. You were the one who killed Missy and sold me into slavery, weren’t you? You’re my brother. Why did you do that? Did you go crazy like I did?”

Dustin smirked. “You want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH! Jack Nicholson, A Few Good Men. Ha! – this is my new hobby, quoting my favorite movie scenes. Okay, so you’re not impressed. I thought it was funny. Let’s see, where were we – oh yeah, you asked if I was crazy. NO. NOT crazy like you. I mean, you are one hell of a basket case. Kitty? Weird.

“I do have a diagnosis, though – a severe case of antisocial personality disorder. A shrink said I have a ‘disturbing absence of a conscience’; I prefer to see it as wonderful freedom from any sort of guilt. I can do anything I want, as long as I plan well so I don’t get caught. Does that answer your question?”

J.J. swallowed hard. “What did Missy Renquist ever do to you?”

“Not Missy. Missy’s older sister, Pam,” Dustin barked. “You ever see Pam? Biggest boobs in school? Get a boner just coming within 50 feet of her? Well, at least I did. Pam refused every attempt I made to have her go out with me when we were in high school. That was bad enough, but then years later I hear that my brother got Pam’s younger sister to go to the homecoming dance. I mean, that was humiliating, you showing me up like that. Even though I was out of school and into trucking by then, it burned me up to think ol’ Dustin was being out-done by his skinny younger bro.

“So I drove down from Tampa that night to get some revenge. I had planned on just scaring you guys with a knife and ski mask, but when I get here and snuck in – you had bedded her! Both of you, snoozing away under the covers, all post-coital. You fucking prick. If I couldn’t get a Renquist in bed, you had no right to. I felt a huge release – a lot better, I’ll tell you – when I had stabbed her in her sleep. You, I put a sack around your head, zip tied your hands and feet, and popped you with some sedatives I had on me; then I butt-fucked you. So only your DNA was on Missy, and I still got my rocks off. Genius, right?

“Then I took you in my truck to Tampa – I know, I know, this is long, I’m wrapping it up – kept you drugged up, and had you ‘dolled up’ by a reliable whore I know. Advertised you on the black market, and sold you to two guys in Brazil looking for a young white boy to enslave. It was perfect: they would use you until you got too ugly or old, and then kill you. You’d be the one pegged for the girl’s death. And I made a lot of cash by your sale. Worked out good all around. Then Mom calls me to say you’re back. Damn. So … here we are. And over there, how convenient … is Mom’s shotgun.”

~o~O~o~

“SHIT! SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!”

Finny jumped out of his Tahoe. The cops were supposed to be on their way, but unless they arrived in the next thirty seconds or so they would be too late. He ran towards the Evarist house, Glock in his right hand.

Meanwhile, the man in the denim jacket had parked his motorcycle half a block behind the black Tahoe. He was walking up towards the big vehicle from the back; he was finally going to confront this bounty hunter. Then he saw Finny emerge and run towards a home straight ahead.

The biker decided not to follow his target into a strange house, so he waited by the SUV for Finny’s return. As he removed the baseball bat from underneath his jacket, he heard the laptop computer in the truck seat broadcasting voices.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he realized: he knew one of those voices.

~o~O~o~

The teenager kissed his unconscious mother, and then stood to face Dustin.

“I’m going to stop you.”

“You? Heh,” laughed the psychopath. “Buddy, even when you were still male, you never were able to fight me. And now, like this? You definitely can’t beat me. But I’ll tell you what: since you’ve become a fine piece of ass, you can let me fuck you – how about that?”

He grabbed his younger brother by the neck and jerked him close, forcing a kiss for a few disgusting seconds. Then Dustin grabbed both of his sibling’s forearms so the hands were pointed up. “Want to fight me, J.J.? Go ahead; make my day. Clint Eastwood, Sudden Impact.”

The teen responded by quickly twisting the left arm inward then down and out, surprisingly breaking the trucker’s grip. Left elbow now pointing up, it slammed mightily into Dustin’s face, causing him to let go of the right arm. Now the teen’s right palm base popped the throat of her attacker, while her slender left leg looped behind Dustin’s; her hand grabbed the scruff of his shirt collar and yanked it back and down. Dustin smacked to the floor on his back and hit his head. “J.J.??” he urked.

The girlish figure had jumped high off the floor above the stunned man; she now shouted –

“No, dickhead! NOVA!”

– then landed with a mighty one-footed stomp directly in Dustin’s groin. “I know how to fight, you FUCKING RAPIST PIECE OF SHIT!”

As the trucker yelled out in agony, Nova quickly scanned the room. Where is it now? Ah! Over there by the wall. She ran and picked up her mother’s shotgun. She turned and pointed it at Dustin. “Freeze, or I’ll blow you to hell!”

“Nah, you won’t, ‘Nova’, or whoever you are now. You’re a no-nonsense bitch, I can tell. If you knew how to shoot that thing, you would’ve already killed me.” Dustin jumped up. “That’s the cool thing about having dope in your system; you recover quicker from pain.” He lunged and grabbed the weapon from Nova, and cocked it properly, then aimed at the girl. “Time to go nite-nite forever – huh? What’s that?”

Dustin had caught something out of the corner of his eye as he stood by the hall window. Between the drawn mini-blinds and the window edge, the front yard was partially visible; and he saw a man with a handlebar mustache, sunglasses and a pistol running up to the front entry.

Dustin raced to the front door and hid behind the hinged edge.

The doorknob turned quickly but silently, and Finny stepped in with gun drawn in classic two-handed grip. But despite all his training he could not overcome the element of surprise, for as soon as he turned –

BLAMM!

A shotgun blast exploded into his chest. He flew backwards through the air and slammed down on his back, sliding a little more down the hall before stopping.

“Time to wrap this up. The door was open, so someone else probably heard that.” Dustin walked to where his new kill was. As he did so, Nova attempted to tackle him from behind; however, he was ready for her. He shook her off and used the shotgun like a club to pound on her head until she tumbled to the floor.

Finney moaned. Dustin marveled. “You’re still alive? INCONCEIVABLE! Princess Bride, I forget the actor. Oh, here’s why. Damn boy, you’ve got on the thickest bulletproof vest I’ve ever seen! Too bad it’s mush now, or I’d take it. Oh my … but I WILL take THIS jewel … “ He lifted a stun gun out of the bounty hunter’s pant pocket. “A Cobratek! You could take down a gorilla with one of these!”

“Okay, how to do this,” Dustin thought out loud. “I dunno who this dude is, but I’ll blow his head off with another shotgun blast, then plug Mom and J.J. with his Glock. Wipe my prints off, plant the Glock on him and the shotgun on J.J., and we have an unfortunate home invasion where everyone killed each other. And no one alive to peg me with anything, including Missy Renquist’s murder. I love it when a plan comes together! – Liam Neeson, The A-Team.”

“Mom and Dad,” Nova moaned on the floor as she bled from her head, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, J.J. and Kitty. And Sabio, my love; I’m so, so sorry.”

Dustin sneered as he aimed the pistol at her skull. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry; Ryan O’ Neal, Love Sto-“

WHOPP!

Dustin fell to the ground, neutralized. He’d been hit in the head from behind, and hit hard. His brain struggled to keep conscious as he tried in vain to pick himself up; then he noticed a man stooping over him. This man had a baseball bat, and wore a blue jean jacket. A denim-clad arm reached down to the floor to pick up something Dustin had dropped: the Cobratek.

This angry young newcomer – he looked to be Latino – jammed the electric leads of the stun gun to Dustin’s neck; his finger was on the button, ready to press.

“You like movies, filho de puta (son of a whore)? Here is one: My name is Sabio Santiago!”

ZAP!

“You try to kill my Nova!”

ZAP!

“Prepare to die!”

ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP!

~o~O~o~

To be continued tomorrow.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

If you've gotten this far, leave a comment! Don't make me reach through the screen and tweak your nose!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**

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 ...

~o~O~o~

NOTICE: This final chapter of Sacrificial Alter is a long one. There is a lot that I wanted to resolve in these character's lives; much of it not possible until we learned the facts we heard in the last chapter. I'm not going to resolve everything; in real life (and especially with D.I.D.) resolution of problems is a lifelong endeavor. Still, I had a lot of ground left to cover that felt wrong if I didn't address it. So this chapter is like at least 3x as long as previous ones. Overkill? Not working? Of course I have those concerns; but I'm gonna go for it, and then you, dear reader, can decide. When you do, let me know in the comments, OK? All input, positive and negative, accepted. And as with all my posts, my 'nose tweaking' hand is ready to assault your schnozz if you DON'T comment! ;))) Thanks so much for reading! On with the tale ...

~o~O~o~

The EMT’s were amazed that Dustin did not, in fact, die. Even after that many shots to the neck by the mightiest electric shocker on the market. In fact, he wasn't even admitted to the hospital; they evaluated him thoroughly, and felt he could be monitored as an 'outpatient' rather than an 'inpatient'. It was a tribute to the man’s overall bulk and size, and maybe a little good luck. However, being jailed with enough evidence to qualify for Florida’s death penalty was definitely not good luck.

~o~O~o~

“It’s been a bad, bad day for the Kissimmee Police Force,” said Chief Art Jefferson to a slew of reporters and microphones. “We’ve had two officers – Detective Ray Castro and Lieutenant Michael Chan – assassinated by a cold, calculating psychopathic killer named Dustin Evarist. This is the same person who has now been recorded bragging about killing Missy Renquist over 2 years ago. It seems he set up his younger brother to be framed for that murder. Dustin Evarist is being held without bond in the Osceola county jail where he will await trial.

“A raid on the suspect’s home in Tampa has disclosed a lab with multiple illegal substances, including the high powered anesthetics used to overdose and kill our officers. He had a small stash of those in his truck when we searched it. We also found signs of obsession with murder, torture and rape; and belongings that appear to be souvenirs of other people he’s victimized. We now are working with the Florida Highway Patrol to reopen various ‘cold cases’ along the trucking routes he often traveled to see if he could be the culprit in those.

“Meanwhile, it should be noted that Jacoby Jesse Evarist has been officially cleared of any suspicion in the Renquist death.”

~o~O~o~

Nova Liberte’ woke up.

It was an odd awakening, this; she was in a room she’d never seen before. The sun coming through the big plate glass window was dipping low in the sky. She looked to the right, and saw a metal pole with a bag of clear IV fluid hung on it; it was dripping into some tubing.

What is this, she thought.

Her eyes followed the tubing from the bag; it led to a boxy little machine on the pole that sounded like it was purring. Then the tubing came out the bottom of the machine, over the silver bed rail – wait a minute, my bed has rails? – and into the inside of her forearm.

I have an IV. I’m in the hospital. Did I have to go back for another surgery? I thought I was through with SRS.

Wait. No, I’m in that damned looney bin. They must have kept me in the clinic room. What did I do now? Don’t remember jumping through another window. I –

Then she remembered. She had ‘awoken’ as this man was bragging about killing that Missy girl. She recognized him as Dustin Evarist; she’d seen his picture while doing her online search about her Evarist family while at the Rio de Janeiro library. She fought him, she lost, he began slamming her head – then her memory was fuzzy after that, until now.

I’m in a hospital. A regular one, not the psych one.

“Well hello, sunshine,” said a rail-thin, redheaded, way-too-energetic woman in blue scrubs entering the room. “I’m Tammi, your nurse. You’re here at Kissimmee Memorial Hospital. And I’ve been doing your neuro checks every hour. Dr. Wolski’s gonna be thrilled that you woke up.”

Nova sat up. “Mom! Is she okay –“

“Yes, dear. We have her in a room 2 doors down from yours. I’ve been doing her neuro checks too – you two are keeping me pretty busy here. She woke up an hour and a half ago. Your father has been in and out of both of your rooms all day, except now he’s down at the police station getting interviewed."

Nova’s face twisted with worry. “Our attacker – that Dustin guy. What happened to him?”

“In jail. He got checked out in our ER, and though I hear he was in pain and sore all over, he didn’t require hospitalization."

“Thank God. For a second there I was afraid he’d be in the same building.”

“Now, does your head hurt? How’s your vision? Any hallucinations?”

Nova smirked as she rubbed the gauze wrapped around her skull. “Yeah, I had one. I hallucinated that my boyfriend came to rescue me, right at the end as Dustin was beating me. Funny how the mind plays tricks.” Like giving me multiple personalities, she thought.

“Boyfriend, eh?” said Tammi with a sly raised eyebrow. “Cuban? Just under 6 foot, dreamy brown skin and jet black hair, with a six pack that you can – sigh – see beneath that tight t-shirt? I’ve seen that guy. He just came to the nurse’s station, and they’re calling your Dad to see if he’s allowed to visit. Evidently he’s been getting debriefed at the police station all afternoon, and ICE even checked him out as clean.”

“No. My guy is not from Cuba; he lives in Rio, and is too poor to travel internationally.”

“I said he’s Cuban just presuming. This is Florida, y’know. He said his name was – what was it? – Sammy-O?”

“Nova?” Said a handsome, clean-shaven smiling Latino face peeking through the doorway.

“SABIO!!”

Nova pivoted to hop right out of bed. Nurse Tammi was quickly there, blocking her.

“Honey, you haven’t been cleared to walk just yet! You’ve had a concussion!”

Sabio solved that dilemma, showing up quickly at the bedside. He and Nova wrapped around each other like two wrestling starfish.

Nurse Tammi interrupted. “Sir, I’m assuming that her father gave the OK to let you visit her?”

“Yes, ma’am. I would like to stay in the room tonight with her. Is it OK? I promise I stay out of your way.”

“Be our guest, sir. That special recliner there lays back into a full flat single bed. I’ll even get you a blanket. And I hate to have to say this, but she’s 16 years old; age of consent in Florida is 18. So if I see any hanky-panky, you’ll be in big trouble with the law, Mr. Rio. Still I’ll give you two a few minutes, then I need to complete her neuro check, OK?” Tammi then stepped out of the room.

Nova was squealing and weeping intermittently. “Baby! What … how did you … ?

“Remember I told you,” he whispered, “that if you needed me, I would move the sky and the ground to get to you? It just took me some time, because I not know where you are.”

She pulled her head back to gaze on his face.

“So you looked for me. And found me. And came for me. Of course you did.” She smiled big and bright through her tears. “Sabio, my protector. Of course you did!”

The couple kissed as if the world were about to end.

~o~O~o~

It was now after midnight. Nova had been sleeping, but awoke when she shifted her head and lightly bumped it on the railing.

“Ouch!” she whispered, and pulled her left hand up to feel that part of her scalp. It was bandaged, but definitely tender when she pressed on one certain spot. She attempted to now use her right arm to feel it too, but someone had ahold of her hand.

It was Sabio, sitting by her bed on the right, his fingers entwined in hers. He’d fallen asleep in the chair; it was partially reclined.

Oh my God. How precious!

Unexpectedly, her room door slightly opened, and a big head came through. She couldn’t make out who it was, until he spoke.

“Nova? You’re awake? “

“Yes, Bob. Come in if you want. Let’s just whisper, though; my guy’s sleeping.”

The big man slid in and shut the door. “How are you feeling?”

Nova pointed to the tender spot on her head. “That’s pretty sore.”

Bob nodded. “Your scalp got busted open. Took 10 staples to fix. It’ll be sore for a while.”

“Great. A big scar. Just what I always wanted.”

“It’s behind your hairline. It won’t be noticeable once your hair grows in more. Hey, I’ve been trying off and on all day to talk to you – but you were in the CAT scan, or asleep, or being bathed; then I spent a while at the police station being questioned. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I have to talk to you.”

Nova suddenly was apprehensive. “Ooo-kay … about what?”

“I need you to know – I’m glad you’re here.”

She was now puzzled. “Here in the hospital?”

“No. I mean, yes, you NEED to be in the hospital – what I’m saying is, I’m glad you exist. I didn’t always feel this way. In fact, since I first met ‘Nova’ after we got you from Brazil, I wished you would go away forever and just let J.J. be present. We didn’t interact much the last 2 weeks – you didn’t want to see me – but if you picked up on my attitude somehow, you might be thinking I hated you.”

Nova stayed mum. How the hell do I respond to that?

Bob looked nervous, and changed the subject. “That your boyfriend from Brazil?”

The girl just nodded her head.

Bob smiled. “That guy’s a hero. He stopped Dustin and saved everyone. Do you know or remember all that happened earlier today?”

Nova perked up. “Just that Dustin turned out to be all that I had been accusing you of being these past few years. And he planned to kill Mom and me. Things are a little fuzzy after that.”

Bob smiled. “It was all taped, believe it or not. Video and audio. The police showed me the recording; and you, girl, were amazing. You almost took him down. You would have, if you had been able to cock that gun. Either way, you’re impressive.”

“So … do you still hate me?”

Bob’s face fell. “NO. No! Dammit, what I really came to tell you … it’s just hard. I’m sorry, Nova. Sorry for not loving you from the first. Sorry for not finding you and rescuing you – even though we scoured everywhere, or so we thought. I’m sorry for failing to protect you. I now realize – you are my child. You are spunky and passionate and unafraid – traits seen in the best people on earth. I know you’re a woman, and I accept you as that. In thinking over the last 12 hours, I’ve realized that I finally have something in my life I’ve always yearned for: a daughter. And right now more than anything else in the world, I want to have a relationship with you.”

Nova was getting choked up. “I’M sorry too – I treated you like dirt, calling you a rapist and accusing you of selling me. I was stupid and believed what I was told. But in my heart of hearts, I have needed a Dad. I have ACHED for a loving Daddy. I would love to start over with you. Can I have permission to call you that – Daddy?”

Bob covered his head with his hand and started to jerk with sobs. Nova reached around his neck and drew her head beside his, joining in the weeping. All the while, Sabio snoozed away like a log.

~o~O~o~

The next morning, Becky picked through her breakfast in bed – the hospital bed, that is. Her headache was better after the pain pill, but it was still pretty ferocious. Not to mention her right scalp was swollen, bruised and mighty tender.

Ouch. That hurts pretty badly to the touch. But on the bright side, I have so much to be thankful for this morning. Hopefully after the neurologist makes her rounds, I can add ‘being discharged from the hospital’ to that list.

A young woman walked into her hospital room as Becky rubbed her eyes.

“Hey there, Mom. You feeling any better?”

The older woman looked up and smiled. “I am now that you’re here, J.J.”

“Ahhhh … sorry. No J.J. at the moment. This is Nova.” The girl silently prepared herself. Now comes the big look of disappointment that it’s me, not her son.

“Nova.” Becky’s smile stayed. “How is my beautiful daughter today?”

Nova’s eyes got slightly wet. “A hell of a lot better, hearing you say that to me.”

“Come give me a hug, baby.” Both women squeezed each other long and tight.

“I heard your boyfriend stayed in the room with you. I want to meet him. Where is he now?”

“Asleep on the recliner. He stayed up most of the night watching over me, holding my hand. He’s sooo sweet!” Nova’s face now got serious. “I heard they did a CAT scan on your head, just like me. Did it come out okay? Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I had a concussion, but there was no significant internal brain damage or bleeding. Same as you. Yes, I get to know your test results – you’re still a minor.”

“I don’t mind you knowing, Mom. What I DO mind are these stupid hospital gowns. They ought to call them Moon Suits, ‘cause you moon most of the people you pass down the hall. My nurse’s aide nicknamed me ‘Moonie’. Ugh!”

“Try wearing it open to the front then, honey. Your new nickname will be ‘Flashie’.”

Both women giggled quite a bit over that.

“Nova, Nova. I am so thankful for you. They showed me the video of you fighting back against Dustin, buying precious seconds until more help arrived. And I don’t know if J.J. would have survived the enslavement in Brazil without your toughness. I am proud to call you my daughter.”

“Will you still call me a daughter when J.J. is in charge up here?” Nova fretted as she tapped her temple.

“I’ll call J.J. what J.J. wants to be called. Bob said something funny earlier today, and I agree with this: if you had an alter that identified as a Peruvian llama, then whenever that alter was in charge, I’d be the happiest llama mama there was. I just want to be part of your life.”

“Ah, good. Both of my patients are here together,” chirped neurologist Daisy Wolski as she entered the room. “Let me examine you two; I need to check your pupils and test your thinking, okay?”

A few minutes later she was through. “Would you ladies like to be discharged home later this AM?”

Nova sighed. “Mom gets to go home. As for me, they probably want me to go back to the insane asylum.”

Dr. Wolski’s smile got bigger. “Girl, do I have good news for you!”

~o~O~o~

Bob Evarist was checking in on Dr. Ramanathan in a different part of the hospital.

“So you’re gonna be okay, Doc?”

“Yes. Hmmm-MMM,” Rama cleared his throat yet again. “I have some swelling around the neck, and it’s pretty sore. But as Dustin was choking me, he pressed on a nerve plexus near my carotid artery that dropped my blood pressure and caused me to faint before I became asphyxiated, and he dropped me. Thank God, or otherwise I would be as dead as those two poor police officers.”

“No kidding – thank God, indeed. Are you getting to go home soon?”

“Yes; I’ll be needing to wear a protective neck collar, but I should be discharged this afternoon. And I plan on being back at work in Passages tomorrow.”

“Great, Doc! Great. Well … not to change the subject or anything, but I – oh hell, I’ll admit it: I need to change the subject. Um, you texted me that you needed to ask me a question?”

“Yes, Bob. If I clear your child, including all of the alters – Hmmm-MMM – do you think you feel up to taking care of J.J., Nova and Kitty at your house, rather than me putting her back out at Passages? With Nova more at peace with you and Becky, I think she’s probably not a flight risk now. I just want to do one more interview with her to make sure; since she’s in the hospital also, we can do it in this room, with a nurse chaperone of course.”

Bob beamed a fresh, wide grin. “No joke? Have my kiddo back home? You mean it? ABSOLUTELY I’m up for doing it!”

“Good. Hmm-MMM. We’ll determine that this morning. I already spoke to Dr. Wolski – “

“Becky and Nova’s neurologist. And?”

“ – And told her of my plan. She’s going to let Nova know.”

Bob dropped his gaze humbly. “Uh, Dr. Rama – I owe you an apology. I gave you so much grief over Jake. Turns out you were right – in his case, this D.I.D. was actually a real thing. And your treatments have brought J.J. back, and even Nova is more loving with us. I wish I could take back some of those things I said about you. You are NOT a quack; you’re a great doc.”

“No problem, Bob. You may yet call me a quack; you will want to duck when you get my bill; it may give you a fowl opinion of me.”

Bob stared for the longest time at Rama before replying. “Hey, Doc.”

“Yes, Bob?”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

~o~O~o~

Bob wasn’t through with his “hospital rounds” that morning. He next checked in on private eye / bounty hunter Marcus Finlandt, who was in the Intensive Care Unit. He was lying in bed with his eyes closed, and with a huge bandage around his neck. He still had a breathing tube down his throat, attached to a ventilator. His pilot friend and business associate, Tom, sat in a chair by the bed, reading a book.

“Hey, Tom. How’s Finlandt doing today?” Bob whispered from the door.

Tom looked up and returned a weary smile. “Hey there, Mr. Evarist.”

“Tom. Please call me Bob. You guys are our friends; especially what your partner did for my wife and child yesterday.”

“Well in that case ‘Bob’, go ahead and call my buddy here ‘Finny’. That’s what his friends call him.”

Bob stepped closer to the sleeping shotgun victim. “Did the surgery go well yesterday? When I last checked at 9:30 PM, he was still in the operating room.”

“The surgeon said his neck was really damaged from the blast; the vest protected his torso great, but there was nerve damage and internal bleeding from his chin down to the top of the chest. In fact, the MRI this morning shows more bleeding happening; they’re going to take him to surgery again in about an hour to try to shore that up. They say he’s lucky, and a fighter; but he’s not ‘in the clear’ by any means yet.”

Bob’s brow furrowed with worry. “Tom. I need to tell him something. I don’t need a response; I just need to say this. Don’t worry, I’m not angry. Can I see if he’ll wake up?”

Tom was about to reply when the person being discussed responded first. Finny rapped his knuckles on the bedrail; Bob turned and saw the wounded man with his eyes open, staring straight at him.

“Hey there, buddy,” said Tom. “Need another pain shot?”

Finny glanced at his friend and shook his head; he was unable to talk with the tube down his throat. He then looked straight into Bob’s eyes and raised one eyebrow high, as if expecting a response.

Bob smiled. “Thanks, Finny. I wanted to tell you that in any other situation, I would be livid that you put a video/audio recorder in my house without my permission. But Tom says you did it because you thought J.J. might be in danger. And you turned out to be absolutely right. With that recording, both I and J.J. were shown to be innocent; and you knew to come rescue my wife and child in the nick of time.”

With that, Finny gave an eye roll and a sad shake of the head.

“Yes, yes you did rescue them. You drew fire away from them. And J.J.’s – uh, let’s call him Nova’s – Brazilian boyfriend followed you, and finished Dustin off. None of that would have happened without you and your little spy-cam. I am eternally grateful.”

A nurse with scrubs, a lab jacket, and a surgical bonnet came in. “I’m here to take you down to surgery, Mr. Finlandt.”

Bob turned to Tom, handing him a business card. “I wrote my cell number on the back. Let me know how this operation goes. I plan on coming back to check on him daily as long as he’s here.”

~o~O~o~

That night, four people - Bob, Becky, Nova and Sabio – sat in the Denny’s restaurant across from the police station, having a late supper. After their release from the hospital, the rest of the afternoon had been spent being interviewed by detectives; they were all exhausted emotionally, mentally and physically.

“Dustin. Dustin, what happened to you,” sighed Becky. She looked at her husband. “I mean, I knew he was always a distant boy – and rebellious – but after he got out on his own I thought he was flying straight. He just wouldn’t keep in touch with me. How did he go from a troublemaker as a teen to a monster as an adult? Was it drug use, or have I just been blind this whole time?”

Bob shook his head. “Crap. I was blinder than you were, honey. I blew off his avoidance of us as workaholic behavior; then after J.J. disappeared, I thought he was staying away because of deep distress from his brother being gone. Turns out he was indeed distressed, but psychologically, not emotionally.”

She grabbed Bob’s hand. “What did we do wrong, to have him turn so evil?”

“I posed that question to Dr. Rama today,” replied Bob. “He says – get this – that parenting is like car safety belts. Wearing one improves your odds of living through a crash – but cannot guarantee your survival. Likewise, good parenting greatly improves the odds of a child growing to a responsible adulthood – but cannot guarantee that he won’t turn to the dark side.”

Becky shook her head. “I try to reassure myself with that, but to be honest, seeing what Dustin has become has shaken me to my core with shock and grief.”

“I’ll bet that’s how you felt when you saw me for the first time two weeks ago,” added Nova. “New gender, no memory of you, and treating you like shit? I’m pretty ashamed of how I acted.”

Becky smiled at her daughter. “Nova, that’s still ‘you’ speaking right now?”

“Yes, Mom. Is that ... okay?”

“Nova, you’re calling me ‘Mom’. It’s more than okay, it’s wonderful. And considering what you'd been through and the lies you were told, 'treating us like shit” was totally appropriate. I'm just glad you are treating us as your parents now."

The beautiful girl gave her parents a fond look. “Seeing as I know now that I was so wrong about you two, I have no trouble calling you guys Mom and Dad.”

“That,” Bob beamed, “is a great thing to hear after these horrible last two weeks. Another great thing is finally getting to know this young hero, Mr. – ?”

Nova blushed as she realized her lapse. “Oh! Mom, Dad, I would like to officially introduce you to the love of my life, the boy who saved my life – twice, now: Sabio Santiago.”

Sabio stuttered. “Ah – this – this is, how you say, uncomfortable? I’m sorry, but ever since I know Nova, she tells me you are our enemies. I thought I never meet you. I did not want to meet you. I know now we have had wrong knowledge, that it was her brother that was the bad one. Forgive me for not giving you open arms right away.”

Becky reached and took his hand, and squeezed it. “No matter how you feel about us, Sabio, I can assure you we feel nothing but warm feelings for you. Without you, our child would be dead, or still enslaved. Now she’s back in our lives, and for that Bob and I both will be eternally grateful. You will always have a place in our hearts, and in our home if you’d like.”

Bob nodded his agreement. “Where are you staying?”

The young man blushed with embarrassment. “You mean, where do I sleep since coming to Florida three days ago? Um … on the street. ”

Both parent’s eyes got as round as saucers. “THAT is changing RIGHT NOW, dear! You are staying with us starting tonight!” insisted Becky, with Bob nodding vigorously.

“Obrigado – thank you! I accept your offer,” said Sabio; then he looked at Nova. “Will you come back with me to Rio – when I get some money to get us there?”

Nova frowned and began to tear up in her eyes. “I – I still need help. Mental help. I probably won’t always be present, Sabio. There will be times J.J. will be out, and maybe even Kitty. And J.J.’s life is here; but being close to Dr. Rama is the main reason I need to stay. I need to get better.”

This made Sabio sad. “I don’t understand all this. In Rio, I do not see J.J. or this Kitty girl; I only see Nova!”

“But I couldn’t remember more than a few years ago. J.J. can remember all the rest of my life. He’s a part of me, Sabio. And I need to become him, and him become me; we all need to become one person again, if possible.”

“That means,” moaned the Brazilian, “I lose you.”

“Not necessarily. Let’s wait and see. And I’m going to ask – will you wait with me?”

“I do not want to be apart from you, Nova.”

Bob cut in. “We don’t want you to be apart from our child either, Sabio. So I’m asking you - will you let us sponsor you to move here? Apply for U.S. citizenship?”

The young man’s eyebrows rose. “But I was only allowed to come on a travel visa. You don’t know what I had to do just to get here. I found that Fin-landt man on the web – I look for detectives in Kissimmee, and recognize his picture, then borrow money for the plane, and for rent a motorcycle, and buy a bat at the pawn store. All that, just to visit. I am out of money. So I don’t think they will let me stay.”

Bob smiled reassuringly. “Like Becky said, you can stay with us. And I’m convinced now that your presence is absolutely required – therapeutically – to allow our child to get well. I know Dr. Rama would vouch for that. So I’ll bet we can get you a green card or something. Let’s see what kind of strings we can pull.”

Sabio took a few more bites of flapjack. “Maybe living here is not too bad if I can have more pancequas like this. I wonder, however, if I would start missing South American food.”

Bob’s eyes lit up. “If you do, just tell me – and I’ll take you to Fogo de Chao.”

~o~O~o~

The Evarist child was in Dr. Rama’s office, in a deep trance aided with a mild antipsychotic in effect. This was a special session. Rama’s voice could be heard in the child’s mind, though the eyes were closed.

“This is still Dr. Rama. I need J.J. present. Please affirm if you are.”

“I’m here, Dr. Rama. This is J.J.”

“J.J., please remain with us. I ask for Nova to be present also, now.

“Nova here, doc.”

“Kitty?”

“This is J.J, again, doctor. Kitty’s here; we can see her. Actually, we can all see each other.”

“Very, very good – excellent, you three! I shall now stay available if you need me. Nova, please start the discussion that you wanted to have. Rama ‘out’.”

In the child’s consciousness, three people sat in three chairs, arranged like an equilateral triangle facing each other. They saw each other clearly and fully formed for the first time.

J.J. was a young boy with close shorn yellow hair, still not aged past 14 and mostly pre-pubertal. He wore his cheer jacket and white slacks from the squad. Nova was a pixie-headed blonde beauty in her late teens sporting a thin braid from her right temple hanging down to tease her neck, and with curves and proportions befitting a bikini model. She wore a white sundress with strappy white sandals. Kitty was a preschooler with a flyaway mop of hair, in a neck-to-toe footed ‘onesie’ pajama with a pattern of random unicorns; she held a teddy bear tight in her right arm as she chewed and sucked her left thumb.

J.J. broke the ice. “Dr. Rama says most D.I.D. patients have many more than just 3 personalities. I wonder if over time we’re going to meet more of us.”

“I guess if that happens, we’ll play it by ear. God – I hope there’s no one even close to Dustin’s personality hidden deep in us,” Nova fretted.

“Dr. Rama also said that he thinks we’re the exception – that we 3 are all that’s here. So that’s good news,” J.J. reassured. “Now: lets talk about what we want.”

Nova kicked the rug in defeat. “Don’t bother. I know what I want – to be with Sabio. And I know you want to live your life as a male. Since you’ve been in control of this body longer – and because we were barely making it in Brazil – you’re going to win. You’ll get back to being a guy, and I will have to go away forever.”

“That’s not true, Nova.”

“Oh, it’s not? Give me a break, J.J. You’re going to stop being a boy and live as a girl the rest of your life? That’s not happening.”

“Um … maybe … maybe I will.”

Nova was flabbergasted. “What? What do you mean by that? You never had wanted to be a girl before, not at all according to Mom and Dad!”

“But yet now, I am a girl. An infertile girl, but in every other way, our body is clearly female. Maybe it would be right to live as a woman from now on.”

“J.J., that’s inviting failure. If you try to live as a girl but you’re clearly a boy in your head, it doesn’t work.”

J. J. stood up from his chair and started to pace around it. “Okay, I’ve thought about this a lot – and I mean a LOT – for the last few days. If I try to transition with surgery and medicines back into a man, I won’t end up with the body I want. I mean, we have wide hips and narrow shoulders. They could try to reconstruct a penis on me, but not one I can ‘feel’ with. I can’t have kids naturally, either way. I’m kind of stuck.”

Nova hung her head. “I got the surgery ‘down below’. You must hate me for that.”

J.J. walked to Nova and placed his hand reassuringly on her arm. “The only one at fault is Dustin. You did what you had to do to survive. And now, that’s what we all need to do. Survive, together.”

He continued. “One thing that Dad always taught me was I had to be tough, and I had to be flexible. ‘Like a Michelin tire’ he’d say. If I lost both arms and legs as a soldier, I’d have to adapt. So that’s what I’m going to try to do: adapt to being a woman. I mean, we’re completely passable as female. So how hard could it be?”

Nova stared incredulously. “You’re kidding with that last statement, right?”

J.J. laughed. “Yeah, I am. I just wanted to see you smile.”

“Mission accomplished,” grinned Nova. “What about Sabio? You like girls. And if Sabio and I are kissing – or in the future doing something more than kissing – and you switch places with me – you will go bat-shit crazy. I don’t want to see you OR him hurt like that.”

“I didn’t freak out when we kissed Sabio together in the hospital,” J.J. replied.

“That’s because I was kissing him, not you.” Then Nova’s eyes got big. “Hey, waitaminit. ‘We’? Whaddaya mean, we?”

“I mean I woke up with you when we were in the hospital. You were in control, but I was definitely there. I heard and saw and felt everything – especially that kiss.”

“We were both awake?! How come I didn’t know you were there, J.J.?”

“I don’t know, Nova. I did stay silent; it was pretty strange, me being awake and aware but not in control. You started talking, and I just stayed mute so I wouldn’t freak you out – not to mention freaking Sabio and that nurse. Even if I had spoken up, I didn't know if you could hear me.”

Nova eyed her alter with suspicion now. “Okay. What did Sabio say to me when we reunited in that hospital room?”

“Something like, ‘I told you I’d move heaven and earth to find you’, and that he didn’t know where you were.”

“OH my God – you were definitely there! And you felt our kiss! It didn’t gross you out that we were kissing a guy?”

“NO! I was surprised! I kind of … thought it was nice. I felt our body relax, and happy – like an endorphine rush, you know? Then I felt our body getting turned on … whew! The feeling in the breasts – the groin – the hair on the back of our neck – was pretty awesome. I still think you were getting a lot more benefit out of it than I was, but I wasn’t ‘grossed out’ by any means.”

Nova was still a little skeptical. “J.J., how is it possible for you to ‘turn’ so quickly?”

“I don’t really understand it myself, Nova. The hormones? The fact that you’ve been in control for almost three years, up until the last two weeks? I mean, your very existence shows that I’ve had a strong willed feminine side within me. This development has even made me wonder if I might have been ’bi’ my whole life and just realized it? But -”

“Bi? Shit, I hope not,” injected Nova. “The last thing we need is to be bipolar on top of our D.I.D.”

“Nova, I meant bisexu – “

“It was a joke, dummy! Sorry. Resume, please,” she said with a hand wave.

“Okay. Even if I am bi, I don’t think I’ve been that way my whole life, ‘cause I’m just feeling this since I now live in a girl’s body. I think there’s a deeper explanation.

“I’ve always loved the look of a man with a woman. Polar opposites coming together to merge into one. The combined masculine and feminine, hard and soft – it’s so sexy, at least to me. I’m not being homophobic, that’s just ‘how I roll’.”

J.J. took a deep breath. “And I must confess; now that I’m a ‘soft’ one, I find myself staring at Sabio and …” He began to blush. “… I want him to hold me close to him, like he did with us that night in the hospital. I felt so good, so loved! And maybe just a little … “ J.J. was beet red in the face now – “ahh … horny?”

Nova’s mouth was agape in stunned wonder.

J.J. exhaled, and fanned himself. “Yeah, he’s pretty hot. So I don’t know; I’m not saying I’ve totally changed teams yet. But I definitely want to explore and maybe experiment with these feelings. I’ll just be open-minded. Tough but flexible. Would that work for you, Nova?”

“Oh my God, absolutely! This is much more than I expected to hear from you. I thought I’d be fighting you for my right to simply exist today. Out of the three of us ‘alters’, YOU are making the biggest sacrifice. I – I almost don’t feel worthy of this gift you’re giving me.” Nova’s eyes were getting wet. “J.J. – you’ve answered my deepest prayers. Is there something I can do for you? What do you want?”

J.J. got quiet, as if hesitant to say. Then finally: “I want to have a close relationship with Mom and Dad. I want to live near them, know them, talk to them daily, and take care of them when they get older. I love them so much, and they never gave up on finding me, and didn’t reject me when everyone else had me pegged as a murderer. I know that you’ve hated them-“

Nova broke in. “No, J.J. – not anymore. That’s what you want? You got it. I will commit to loving them the rest of their lives, and anyone we marry will have to realize that.”

A humming came from the third chair; Kitty. But this wasn’t the “NNNnnnNNNnnn” hum she had always done in the past; this was melodic, as if from a song. She rocked pleasantly in her chair as she hummed, and was looking at Nova and J.J. with the biggest smile on her face.

Nova glanced at J.J. with a grin. “You recognize that tune?”

“Sure do,” laughed J.J. “Three blind mice. Yeah, Kitty, I guess we three are going to have to stumble our way through this like blind mice. But at least we’ll do it together.”

Nova picked Kitty up and squeezed her. “My brave, brave Kitty. Without you, we never would have learned who the bad guy in this tale really was.” J.J. came and put his arms around both of them. “Kitty the courageous,” he said. Then, Kitty mumbled something inaudible.

“What’s that, K?” asked J.J.

Kitty spoke louder. “Gwoup hug.”

“Group hug! Kitty – your first ‘non-meow’ words!”

~o~O~o~

Sabio Santiago had finished his day as a roofer in west Kissimmee, Florida. He mused about his work as he bicycled home.

This company has given me a good job; but they try to save money by using cheaper materials. And some of the slower workers hold us back from finishing quicker. One day I will start my own roofing company here, and run it the way it should be run; we will be known for the best quality and fastest work. People will pay a little more, but they will be much more satisfied.

Bob had followed through on his pledge to help Sabio with his legal status, and though not yet a U.S. citizen officially, he was here on a worker’s visa; that meant legal employment, and even medical benefits. He lived in a converted attic bedroom at the Evarist household. He looked forward to the day that he could afford his own place, and to a future with Nova. In fact, he had a date with Nova tonight – supper at Lorenzo’s Italian Ristorante.

He knocked on her door. “I am ready when you are – take time if you need it, and I will be down the stairs.” Sabio then went to wait at the chair at the base of the staircase.

His date descended the steps as a vision of beauty. She had on a black mini-skirt with black hose, and a crimson spaghetti strap top that showed a generous amount of cleavage along with a hint of a strapless black bra. Her blonde hair combined with the palette perfectly. Makeup and earrings complemented the fabrics, and her red lips were so moist that he had to resist the urge to kiss them right there. Scarlet pumps completed the look.

Sabio was mesmerized by the sight before him. He’d been studying up on some new special English words, and now put them to use. “Nova. You are so gor-geous. I never see someone so beautiful, so fetching, and so lovely as you. My heart is melting.”

The girl blushed deeply. “WOW! What compliments! Thank you sir. You’re rather bonito e viril yourself! But, I’m not Nova right now. I’m J.J.”

Sabio was crestfallen. “Oh. You’re the boy. I guess that means no date.”

J.J. touched him on the arm. “I still would like to go.”

“Eh? But, but you’re the boy? I think you don’t like other boys? Only Nova is in love with me, yes?

“Sabio … let’s talk.” J.J. took the young man’s arm and led him into the den, and to sit on the love seat. They grasped both hands now, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Sabio … Nova is part of me, an essential part. We are friends now, and we actually can both be ‘awake’ in this mind at the same time. She’s awake right now, giving me advice on how to act with you! Right now, I – J.J. – am in the ‘driver’s seat’ in here,” – J.J. tapped his temple – “but she’s there too, just in the back seat.”

Sabio looked hopeful. “So, can you put Nova in the driver’s seat for this date?”

J.J. shook his head. “If I could, I would, Sabio. Sorry – it doesn’t work that way, at least not yet. None of us in this brain get to decide who’s driving or when.“

“So if I ever kiss you – I could be kissing a boy? Or a 3 year old child?”

“Pretty sure you won’t be kissing Kitty. She’s rarely in the driver’s seat anymore; in fact she’s in bed sleeping right now, as she is most of the time. Knowing that my brother will never get out of jail seems to have resolved most of her issues. And as for kissing a boy: you knew that Nova was a travesti when you met her. And you didn’t have a problem with that, right?”

“No, I did not. Nova is more woman than most who are born women. To me, at least.”

“Well, Nova is here with us right now. Nova helped me choose this outfit! She guided me when I applied my makeup tonight. Mom helped with that too, by the way. We are starting to share each other’s dreams, visions and feelings. Even … um … even each other’s attractions.”

Sabio raised an eyebrow. “J.J.? You – are starting to be attracted to me?”

“Just hear me out a little further. When Nova fell in love with you, part of me was falling in love with you. She sees you not just as a lover, but a best friend too. She trusted you with her secrets, and you proved worthy of that trust. You’re tender and kind with us, and you listen to us; you work hard; you’re honest; we feel safe with you. I don’t know any other boyfriend who would sacrifice what you did to find his girl again. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re a keeper,” J.J. emphasized with a manicured index finger pointing into Sabio’s chest.

“And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman in body. The hormones I’m taking seem to make me feel more and more girlish every day. Even though in my head I’m still mainly a boy right now, you are … shall we say … really ‘growing’ on me. And I need you tonight in a very specific way.”

Sabio cocked his head to the side. “Eh? What do you need?”

J.J. blushed again. “I need you to teach me how to dance. They’ll have a band at Lorenzo’s tonight, and I want to dance with you. Nova has danced with you as a girl, and I’ve danced before as a boy … but I want to dance with you tonight as your girl.”

In the living room, music played from a Bluetooth speaker linked to a smartphone. Sabio guided his ingénue through some steps. “That’s good, J.J. You are what is called a natural. You know … J.J. can be a girl’s name as well as a boy’s. I did a Google on it.”

The next song was slow and sultry. Sabio pulled his date close. J.J. felt his partner’s bulging arm muscles; the back and waist were hard and chiseled. Sabio’s voice was velvet, and J.J. suddenly felt so cared for, so protected, so right in this moment.

“Nova likes it when I hold her this way. Do you?” whispered Sabio.

“Oh yes, please,” J.J. breathed. She was in a bit of heaven, she thought.

She thought. She. Wait a minute. Wait a minute!

I’m … I’m a SHE! – She smiled silently.

~o~O~o~

~o~O~o~

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual person or situation is purely coincidental.

Thanks to cyclist, whose advise and editorial skills have elevated this tale to 100x better than it was when I submitted it to her. She is one of the shining stars of our community!

Thanks to JenaJumbled for the awesome picture.

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Thanks for reading! **Sigh**