"Different times."
"It's a person?"
"Yes."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
"Captain Howdy?"
"I don't know."
"A man?"
"I don't know."
"But he's there."
"Yes, sometimes."
"Now?"
"I don't know."
"If I ask him to tell me, will you let him answer?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid!"
"Of what?"
"I don't know!"
"If he talks to me, Regan, I think he will leave you. Do you want him to leave you?" "Yes."
"Let him speak, then. Will you let him speak?"
A pause. Then, "Yes."
"I am speaking to the person inside of Regan now," the psychiatrist said firmly. "If you are there, you too are hypnotized and must answer all my questions." For a moment he paused to allow the suggestion to enter her bloodstream. Then he repeated it: "If you are there, then you are hypnotized and must answer all my questions. Come forward and answer, now: Are you there?"
Silence. Then something curious happened: Regan's breath turned suddenly foul. It was thick, like a current. The psychiatrist smelled it from two feet away. He shone the penlight on Regan's face.
Chris stifled a gasp. Her daugther's features were contorting into a malevolent mask: lips pulling tautly into opposite directions, tumefied tongue lolling wolfish from her mouth.
"Oh, my God!" breathed Chris.
"Are you the person in Regan?" the psychiatrist asked.
She nodded.
"Who are you?"
"Nowonmai," she answered gutturally.
"That's your name?" She
nodded.
"You're a man?"
She said, "Say."
"Did you answer?"
"Say"
"If that's 'yes,' nod your head." She nodded.
"Are you speaking in a foreign language?"
"Say."
"Where do you come from?"
