"The Changeling" – Guest Post by Seuzz

"Sometimes he looks like my father," the boy said. His tone was placid and matter-of-fact, and he didn't raise his eyes from the paper that he was coloring. "Sometimes he looks like my brother." He chose another color. "He fixes my breakfast and lunch, and he cleans the house when no one else is at home."

His teacher twisted her neck to look at the drawing. It was a picture of a house, with a dog and a child playing in front of it. "Does he ever look like anyone else," she gently asked.

The child shook his head, then frowned. "One time he looked like another man. In the park."

"What was he doing in the park?" She glanced up at the school psychiatrist, who was listening intently, but who had not spoken up to this point.

"I don't know. He just was." The boy started drawing a tree. "I was on the swings. Another boy pushed me off. He came over and told the boy to leave me alone. Then he told me who he was, and that I should probably go home because supper would be ready in an hour."

"Was there anyone else there when he told you this?"

The boy shrugged, then said "I don't remember."

"What do your father and brother say about him?"

The boy looked up, puzzled. "They're not there. Except when he's being them."

"Is he both of them at the same time?"

"I don't know." The boy began to sound irritated. "It's just him and me there, mostly. Except when he's gone."

"Where does he go?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he would talk to me?" Todd shrugged. "If I came out to visit your house, would he be there?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Who would he look like?"

"I don't know." Todd sounded very tired and put the crayons down.

"Does he have a name?" the teacher asked. The psychiatrist blinked, and smiled encouragingly at her.

"Daryl," the boy replied matter-of-factly.

* * * * *

"Oh, I know all about Daryl," Theodore Emmett said with a smile. "I don't think Todd has any secrets from me. I don't have any from him, either. Except, of course, the ones that no one tells an eight-year-old boy."

Dr. Lloyd Tollefson smiled in reply. "How long has Todd been ... ah ... acquainted with Daryl?"

Emmett scratched his nose. "About nine months, I guess. Yeah, it was around Christmas time."

"How did you find out about Daryl?"

"Todd asked me one day if I was Daryl. I asked who Daryl was, and he said that Daryl was his friend. I said that I was his friend, so that must mean that I was Daryl."

"A clever reply," the psychiatrist said. He glanced around the living room, which was mostly clean though certainly disordered from ordinary living. The apartment was very small, and the sounds of other tenants leaked in easily through the thin walls. "Your other son is also sometimes Daryl?"

"I suppose so. Yes, he is, now that I think about it. Sometimes Todd tells me that Daryl was Greg that afternoon."

"What does Greg think of this?"

"I guess he tolerates it. I've told him that Daryl is Todd's friend, and that when it is his turn to be Daryl that he has to be nice to Todd."

"Is he ever not nice to Todd?"

"I've never heard them seriously quarrel, so I think it's easy for Greg to be Daryl."

"What does your wife think of this?"

Emmett's smile faded. "My wife is dead," he said. "We separated because I had been drinking too much. Then she was in a car accident. It's a hell of thing if that's what it takes to get you to sober up."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Tollefson said. There was an awkward moment, which the psychiatrist chose to fill by returning to the main topic. "Do you know that other people are sometimes Daryl?"

Emmett's mouth tightened. "I know it has sometimes happened," he says. "Todd has told me that Daryl has spoken to him outside of the house—"

"When he looks like other people."

"Yes. I've asked, and it has turned out it was strangers being helpful to my son. I've told him that it was very nice of Daryl to help him, but that not everyone he meets is Daryl, and that he should wait for Daryl to tell him who he is before he trusts them."

"It's still a dangerous delusion."

"I've been quite emphatic," Emmett replied firmly.

"That's not exactly what I meant," Dr. Tollefson said, rising with a sigh. "It's a most interesting friend your son has, but it doesn't strike me as a very healthy delusion."

"Maybe it's not a delusion," Emmett snapped. "Maybe it's an angel, someone watching over Todd and protecting him by taking possession of people."

"You don't believe that," Dr. Tollefson said. "You certainly don't believe that you are being possessed by an angel." They held each other's eyes for a moment before Emmett relaxed.

"No, I don't," he admitted. "But our lives have been much nicer since Daryl came along."

Dr. Tollefson bit the inside of his cheek, and then ventured onto the dangerous ground. "You almost lost custody of your children, over alcohol abuse, and not that long ago," he said softly.

He expected an outburst, but Emmett just smiled sadly. "I know. Just before my wife died. Greg had run away to live with her, even. I was a mess." He sighed. "But then he came back after she died. Maybe Daryl came with him, because that's when I got my ... got my stuff together." He smiled again. "You see? I don't even cuss anymore."

"I like you, Mr. Emmett," said Dr. Tollefson. "Certainly I want to believe you. But for the sake of your son's long-term health ..." He trailed off. "As I said, I like you, and because I like you I'm going to confess that this matter won't end with this interview."

"Whatever you have to do, doctor ... What did you say your name was again?" Tollefson repeated it. "Whatever you have to do, Dr. Tollefson."

The men shook hands and parted.

On his way home, Dr. Tollefson turned over in his head the most intriguing bit of information, that "Daryl" had appeared about the time that the teenage son had returned home. He genuinely liked Emmett, and didn't want to share his dark suspicion about the other son until he'd had a chance to look into certain juvenile records.

For his part, Emmett stood thoughtfully in the living room for a spell, then retreated to the dining nook to look up some records himself on the internet. Then he repaired to the bedroom, where he spent the rest of the evening preparing a batch of injections. The chemicals were expensive, but he had satchels and satchels of stolen money hidden behind a fake panel he'd installed in the closet.

* * * * *

"There's nothing to the matter," Dr. Tollefson told Mrs. Roberts a few days later. "Forget what I told you last Friday. I've already told social services they can delete the file I asked them to set up."

"But this imaginary friend," she said. She glanced over at Todd, who was reading to himself in the corner of the classroom.

"Just an imaginary friend," the doctor replied. "Didn't you have one when you were small?"

She seemed uneasy, but he was a professional. "Can I talk to you about it later?"

"There's nothing to talk about," he said brusquely. "Besides, I'm going on vacation tomorrow." She looked startled. "Mad, sudden trip, all the way to Argentina," he said. "Just got the bug, all of a sudden." He smiled. "Maybe I won't even come back." She congratulated him and left him alone, as she went out to watch the children on the playground.

Dr. Tollefson went over to Todd and knelt down by the desk. "Do you know who I am," he asked the boy. Todd shrugged. "I always tell you where I am," Dr. Tollefson said. "Right? Just for today, I'm Daryl." Todd's eyes widened, then he smiled.

Dr. Tollefson stroked his hair gently. "I always tell you the truth, Todd," he said soothingly. "Some day, I'll tell you more of it. But always remember, I'm your friend.

"And I will never ... never ... let anyone hurt you in any way."

That promise made, he left for his office. On the way he rubbed his forearm. It showed no marks, but beneath that skin was another, and the badly healed burn marks left by a drunken, rarely ceased to trouble Gregory Daryl Emmett.