The Session

A Story by Pierre Biscotti

“You can relax Mr. Cherez. This is not an interrogation. It’s nothing more than a discussion,” said the psychologist with a soothing intention.

“Calling it a discussion makes it seem like I have a choice to participate,” replied Peter. He was obviously irritated by the situation he was in.

“Well, you do have a choice. You can participate in court mandated therapy, or you can add five years to your sentence,” calmly added Dr. Spence.

Peter shifted from his casual, laid-back position on the couch to a more upright and attentive position. His eyes shifted to the camera in the top-right corner of the room, then to the door where he knew that guards were posted just outside. This environment was not comforting like the one he regularly visited before his conviction. Instead of the nice floral wallpaper there were blank white walls. In place of the calm incandescent lamp on the desk there was a bright white beam of light protruding from the ceiling.

Peter’s eyes moved to direct contact with the psychologist. He glared for a few more seconds before he finally decided to answer.“Everyone thinks I’m a homicidal maniac. Why do you even care about my mental well-being?”

“Because we wish to understand people in your psychological state.”

“I’m perfectly normal,” answered Peter. “Why would I kill the one person that means the most to me?”

The doctor squinted his eyebrows in confusion. “You still deny your crimes. Why?”

“I didn’t murder her.”

“Then how’d she lose her life?” questioned the psychologist.

Peter remained silent. He had nothing to say that he hasn't said before. He’s already told this story several psychologists. Just because this guy is a specialist does not mean he deserved a response.

The psychologist leaned closer to Peter. In a light tone he said, “You believe you were framed don’t you?” The doctor paused for second to wait for a response, when he did not receive one he continued, “All of the evidence points toward you. There was absolutely no doubt that you were the one that killed her. The body was found in your apartment, the knife had your fingerprints, and you had fled the scene.”

“It doesn’t matter either way, I was found guilty, and nothing will change that.”

The therapist scribbled something on his notepad about Peter’s acceptance of his sentence. He also wrote that Peter still denies his actions. When he had finished his notes he asked,“Can you tell me about that night Peter?”

Peter sighed and prepared to tell his great tale that he has told so many times before.“It was my twenty-first birthday”, started Peter. “My girlfriend, Heather, and I decided to celebrate by going to the liquor store and purchasing a case of beers. She was already twenty-one and wanted to show me the good microbrews around town. When we got to my apartment I threw on the TV and we started drinking. We had planned to finish the whole case. I must have drank too much because I blacked out after that. The next morning I woke up in the back of my car, completely across town. In confusion I started to head back to my apartment. When I arrived there was a mass confusion in front of the apartment: Police cars, yellow tape, news reporters. I asked an officer what happened. He told me there was a murder in my apartment. When I told him that was my apartment he arrested me.”

“So you have absolutely no memory of that night?” asked Dr.Spence

“None Whatsoever.”

Again, the doctor scribbled on his notebook. There was a strange awkward silence in the room. Peter was wondering what the doctor actually thought of him. Does he believe me? Or does he think that I’m a murderer? Peter did not know why he cared so much about what the doctor thought of him. Even if the doctor thought he was innocent, it’s not like he could, or even would, do anything about it.

“I’m going to try to do something new, Peter,” said the doctor at last. “How do you feel about hypnosis?”

“Well, I’ve never been hypnotized, but I don’t see why not.”

“It can’t make matters any worse.”

Dr. Spence began to put Peter down. He spoke low and calm as Peter relaxed every inch of his body. Peter fell way under as his conscious mind gave way to his subconscious mind. The mind that knows what the conscious mind does not. The subconscious mind still remembers the memories that are suppressed.

“When I clap my hands you will awaken,” declared Spence. “You will tell me the truth and only the truth. Where were you on the night of your girlfriend’s death?”

“I was with her. We watched TV and drank a couple of beers,” mumbled the unconscious, almost drunk sounding Peter.

“What’s the last thing you remember from that night?”

“I remember being drunk, so drunk.”

“What else do you remember?”

“We sat together, watched TV, and then I woke up the next morning in my car”

“You don't remember anything else?” sighed the doctor.

“No.”

Dr. Spence was defeated. He thought for sure that unconscious Peter would shed some more light on that night. Instead he got the exact same answer. The doctor began to wonder if Peter really was innocent. Maybe he was drugged and framed by the real murderer.

Spence then decided he might as well take full advantage of Peter’s state of mind and find out about his childhood. “Peter have you ever experienced pain or abuse as a child?”

“My father hit me.”

“Can you tell me about one of the occurrences, Peter?”

“It was late,” began Peter, still with a slur in his voice. “I needed help with math so I waited until he came home. As soon as he walked in the door the room was filled with the smell of whiskey. I asked for his help and he said that I’ll never amount to anything if I don’t try. I knew he was wasted yet I persisted. Then he hit me. He said, ‘I work hard to keep a roof over your head! All I want is to relax when I get home!’ I ran upstairs and finished my homework.”

“Was this a recurring thing?” asked asked Spence as he frantically wrote on his notepad.

“Only when he drank.”

The doctor paused before continuing to the next question. If the patient was in fact guilty of murder, then this information could provide strong evidence as to why. Dr. Spence continued,“Peter, did you kill your Heather?”

“No it wasn’t me. I swear to God it wasn’t me,” cried out Peter. “It was him!”

“Who?” asserted the doctor. Peter was now pointing directly in front of him. His eyes were wide open.There was an intense fear in his eyes. The doctor clapped his hands but nothing happened. The hypnosis had already been broken. Dr. Spence stood up in sudden surprise and looked behind him where Peter was pointing. Nothing was there other than a blank, white wall. “What do you see Peter?” asked Spence with uncertainty.

“It’s me!” said Peter sobbing his eyes out. “He is me! They were right. I killed her. I just didn’t know it.”

Peter saw himself standing directly in front of him.The figure’s eyes had the look of pure evil in them. Peter knew the face yet it still seemed alien to him. There was a different man underneath that skin. A man much like his father. Worse than his father. In Peter’s vision of himself, he held a kitchen knife. The same kitchen knife. Red liquid dripped from it. Each drop of blood haunted Peter. It drove him mad because he knew exactly whose blood it was.

Peter tried to run. This was too real. He had to get out. Memories suddenly came back to him. Memories he did not have before. Memories of Heather lying on the floor as he stabbed her in the gut.

The guards outside of the office stopped Peter in his tracks, but Peter didn’t even notice. His mind was just too preoccupied. It was’t me. I know it wasn’t me. It was a demon. Yeah that’s it. I was possessed by a devil spirit.

Peter never believed in superstitions such as this before. Now it seemed more real than ever to him.This was his best reasonable explanation he had.

Dr. Spence yelled at the guards, “Be careful with him. He is experiencing the a very traumatic event. His mind is very fragile right now.”

The guards ignored what the doctor had to say. They did not care how “fragile” the mind of a convict is.

They brought Peter back to his cell. He laid down on his bed and began to sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Heather,” he cried. Peter did not sleep well that night. He did not sleep well for a while.

*******

“I would like your professional diagnosis Dr. Spence”

“Not much to say. The man belongs in an institution, not a prison.” replied Dr. Spence to his colleague.

“Why do you believe this?”

“Mr. Cherez has developed symptoms of many disorders due to his childhood trauma. He seems to have developed duplicate identity disorder mixed with schizophrenia. His father used to beat him whenever he was intoxicated. Due to mimicry of his father, Mr. Cherez becomes a violent person when he drinks. He becomes someone other than himself, and this is the duplicate identity.”

“So you believe that he is innocent?” asked Spence’s colleague.

“I do. The other person killed Heather, but the crime was carried out through Peter’s body. Since Peter and the other entity both share a body, they must both serve the sentence,” stated Spence.

“So what do we do? Institutionalize him or imprison him?” questioned the colleague.

“Institutionalize him, without question. Peter is in a very unstable state of mind. He must be studied. Put him on suicide watch as well. He may not have the intention to kill himself, but instead the intention to kill the being that ruined his life.”

“Are you absolutely sure that this is the best solution?”

“It’s not a solution. It will just make things a little better… for Peter’s sake.”

© 2016 Pierre Biscotti

Author's Note

This is a first draft. I feel like some parts may be corny and want to know what others think. I do plan on making revisions.

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Reviews

Ajoniaa

Such a nice read, the writing flows beautifully, you understand what is happening, you never state they are in a prison, but you realise it quickly given the descriptive nature of the piece.

I also like that you have very clearly researched multiple personalities and the effect on people with it, the only thing I would point out is that the medical terminology of the described condition is dissociative identity disorder (DID).

Overall this a nice piece, the writing is clear in its intent and gives you a very clear picture.