"Finally even the psychiatrist
stopped, his professional calm ruptured. He had the half-annoyed, half-hurt
look of someone interrupted in the middle of a sentence. He looked quickly
at Gerald and the others, alarm spreading across his features. For the first
time in his professional life, Dr. Hammond was face to face with something
he knew was far beyond his reach to categorize as a verifiable known or
unknown. What he was then beginning to perceive, he felt, he had always
known but never acknowledged, even in the deepest moments of the eight years
of analysis through which he had successfully passed.
"But his scientific mind was his
only ready defense, and he kept up the protest in his mind: Verify! Get the
facts! Test them!
But he knew. There was no
"There was a reality made transparent to him. Before this moment, he would
have labeled this a product of the irrational. But it now appeared to be
real beyond all reason. And he had always known it.
"Slowly they all began to hear sound. It was, at the beginning, like the
sound of a crowd or mob-feet pounding faintly, voices shouting, screaming,
yelling, jeering, talking, distant whistling and grunting. They could not
fix from what direction it came.
"The teacher glanced out the
windows at the pond. The trees were moving gently in the wind; a few ducks
paddled around in the water; the evening was still bright. Then the noise
sounded nearer, just as confused as ever, but now with one overall mood or
note: mourning for an ineluctable sorrow. Listening to that sound on the
tape recording of the exorcism, and as it grows louder and louder, one
begins to get the conviction of listening to the tortured murmurs and
helpless protests of a mob in agony, keening and wailing for deeps of
regret, screaming and groaning for the ache of punishment and unremitting
penalty, yelling impotently in condemnation, vibrating as a whole beast of
suffering, as some protean heart thumping in the mud and squalor that
history never recorded and human mercy had never penetrated.
"Over and above all the voices but constantly weaving in and out among them,
there was the full scream of a woman orchestrating all the other noises and
voices around itself as their theme. It came in great rising and falling
curves, louder and fainter, still louder and then fainter, regular, upbeat,
jarring, resounding with a passion of pain and lost hope.
"Gerald noticed that everyone in the room seemed to be bending, lowering his
height as if afraid of something moving in the upper part of the room.
Nothing was visible up there.
"Dr. Hammond sat as if unable to move from the edge of the couch.
Richard/Rita’s lips turned blue, his eyes open and staring vacantly. The
attending doctor moved to his side to take his pulse and found his body very
cold, the pulse steady but weak.
“Father, this cannot go on much longer,” Father John managed to shout to
"'He’s taken enough already.'
"'Not very much more! Not very long, now!' Gerald shouted back. But the
remainder of what he wanted to say went unsaid. It was the psychiatrist who
now claimed his attention. Dr. Hammond had slipped off the couch and stood
in an askew way looking halfway around over his shoulder at Richard/Rita,
his eyes narrowed with apprehension, his notebook fallen and forgotten. No
one, the psychiatrist included, could shake his mind loose from the web of
pain and regret pervading the atmosphere.
"The noise and the din of sobbing and mourning rose finally to an undulating
pitch. Richard/Rita’s face suffused with color; red patches and streaks
discolored his arms and neck. Even his eyes deepened in color. He was trying
"Gerald was alerted: something was coming, and he felt he must make his
final challenge very fast.
"'In the name of Jesus, you are commanded to leave this creature of God. You
will go out of Rita and leave him whole and entire . . .'
"Richard/Rita’s sudden scream split their eardrums. “We go, Priest. We go.”
It was a million turbulent voices as one, full of eternal ache and pain. “We
go in hate. And no one will change our hate. And we will wait for you. When
you come to die, we’ll be there. We go. But”-Gerald heard the sharp
injection of hate hissing through the sorrow-“we
Richard/Rita’s hands suddenly swept up in a wide arc toward Dr. Hammond. It
was a quick but clumsy movement.
Hammond jumped backward. And Richard/Rita fell off the couch to the floor as
the assistants jumped forward and held him down.
'"We already have his soul. We claim him. He is
ours. And you cannot do anything about that. We already have him. He is
ours. We needn’t fight for him.'
"Richard/Rita was wheezing like someone being asphyxiated, eyes bulging,
neck muscles standing out, his long hair falling back, his chest heaving, as
he half-rose in his effort. “You can’t get him
back. He is ours. He does our work. He doesn’t need a box. He puts everybody
else into it.”
"All calm was gone from Dr. Hammond; his face was a picture of black
Diabolical Perversion = Psychoanalysis
Psychoanalysis is the same process by which
Satan corrupts souls if you read this entire book by Malachi Martin, who
actually participated in all of those exorcisms. This is a very, very
important matter, and all Americans should read it.
We're the world
leaders of "IT's ALL ABOUT MEEEeeee!!!"