“Flashes of images, unholy images! I saw myself led by this – this thing! – into the shadows of hell itself. I saw what I had done to Mrs. McAffey, I saw my mother cursing at me in the name of the scripture… ‘full of all subtlety and all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord?’”

“What did you do then, Cox?”

“I ran back to the church. I ran screaming about the boy, the creature, outside, and how my mother was right, and how the devil had finally sent a henchman for me. The people, upon hearing this, ran to the window to look at the playground. No one was there. But the merry go round was still spinning.”

Another moment of silence went by. The rain outside Cox’s window blurred the light from the streetlamp. “Ever since then, I’ve lived in fear. My parents sent me to institution after institution, shrink after shrink. I kept thinking that… that this thing wasn’t done with me, it was just toying with me… waiting for me. I finally got this apartment, and you know the rest.”

“I do,” Greyson sighed. Another moment of scribbling sounds. “Cox, this ‘creature’ you’ve imagined, it was a manifestation of your guilt. You’ve held this childhood anguish in for so long, that you’ve made this ‘thing’ your only companion in your shame.”

“No,” Cox rushed in. “It was real doc! I know what I saw!”

“Was it real? Or was it a way for you to punish yourself? You felt as though you could not share this burden with anyone, therefore you received no proper punishment; no disciplinary action. Isn’t it possible, with the mix of emotions you were keeping locked inside, that you were indeed creating this ‘creature’ as a form of mental punishment?”

“No!” Cox rose to his feet again. He could feel himself wavering in his convictions.

“Isn’t it possible?!”

“I-I don’t know!”

Greyson lowered his voice. “You must admit this to yourself if you have any hope of recovering, William. I ask you again, isn’t it possible that this thing is nothing more than your imagination, formulated from the biblical fears your parents instilled in you, coupled with your need for disciplinary action regarding your ‘sins’?”

Cox didn’t know what to say. His mind was a jumble of psychobabble that he barely understood… but somehow it was making sense.

“Yes,” he admitted, feeling a floodgate opening. “It is possible.” At last, a release! William Cox’s fears were flowing out of him and pooling onto the floor for the first time in years. “It is possible!”

“Yes, William. Embrace the possibility! How do you feel?”

“Doc, I feel great!” He touched his face with his free hand. He was smiling. “I can’t – I can’t believe this.”