It was impossible to believe that these beings had been the authors of such atrocities.

Neither of them had stopped crying since they were there. They did not understand
anything about what happened. It was hard for them to believe that they had killed their
loved ones, the ones they had loved the most. It was a cruel and hateful reality, but
reality nonetheless, and that was what mattered. Elvis looked into the distance, as if
wanting to receive from the almighty, a redemption that he was more than sure would
never come. He had alive in his mind, the image of his mother dismembered by his own
hands. He felt dirty, he felt the worst in the world; a being that does not deserve to live.
On many occasions, as would happen with Agustina; he had tried to end his life, so
measures had been taken to prevent it.
Their innocent and terribly frightened faces remained stuck in the memories of
the eminent scientist and now, in that place he occupied; I felt them much more
accurately. He seemed to be looking at them again, terrified by what they had done. I
felt like them, the powerful guilt that ate away at an existence that they already rejected,
wishing they didn't have it. It was not enough that justice execrated them from its
tentacles. They did not justify in any way the serious crimes they had committed, but
they were there in their minds, just as they were in the minds of Elvis and Agustina; the
voices of those innocents crying out for their lives, exclaiming terrifying cries of pain,
demanding mercy. The voices of both Elvis's mother, as well as that of Agustina's
children and husband, remained stuck in the psychiatrist's mind; in the same way that
they remained in the perpetrators of the homicides. The mental transfiguration that
followed was the ingredient that had led to a tragedy. An unimaginable event that had
transferred him to that fateful place that he then occupied.
Both patients were subjected to all kinds of specialized studies, even against their
will. One of the conditions agreed by the court was precisely the submission to
rehabilitation therapies and these studies were the prelude to be able to further
consolidate the diagnosis that he himself had determined and thus proceed with the

definitive treatment. That was the excuse for experimentation. First we proceeded with
her. Magnetic resonances, electroencephalograms, various laboratory tests, examination
of your family history and your personal history. A meticulous genetic analysis was
carried out on him, tests of this and that; In short, all the studies that the doctor
considered pertinent were meticulously carried out in it, some of them paid for with his
own resources. Later, a week later, the same was done with Elvis. He underwent an
extensive diagnostic examination. No examination, no matter how modern and intensive
it was, determined any anomaly. They were all within the limits of normality.

At that point in their hospitalization, they had not presented symptoms that
denoted any pathology, despite not having received medication. Of the two, Elvis had
already been diagnosed a couple of years ago. For a time he had completed his
treatment, but he continued to experience the disturbing symptoms anyway. The patient
felt that this onerous treatment did not go beyond that, something that did not alleviate
his sorrows much. For that reason, and due to the costs of these drugs and the
impossibility of affording them, he decided to do without them. The same, whether I
took them or not, I always felt that the symptoms presented themselves on some
occasions with more intensity than others. At first it was as if his mind was clouded and
he forgot everything that happened to him. Then it was associated with his amnesia, a
feeling of either superiority or inferiority. He felt miserable or, on the contrary, a
powerful, superior, magical being; able to achieve everything just by wanting it. At
other times, he heard voices and sounds that he had never heard before and that told him
everything. Or, as happened last time, he was looking at something that didn't really
exist. It was those constant hallucinations, which made him uncontrollably excessive.
He couldn't help but obey those voices and try to destroy whoever he looked at, just like
he did his mother.
But for several days Elvis had not felt anything described in his medical history, nor
the symptoms that scientific literature usually describes. His behavior could be said to
be that of a normal person. What he did present was a severe depression because of
what he was experiencing. For the immense pain felt, the great mourning and the
enormous guilt resulting from the crime he had committed. The psychiatrist subjected
him to a deep psychoanalysis, with which he tried to get to the origin of his problem.
Delve into your past, as is achieved with hypnosis, to verify at what specific moment in
it, the genesis of your condition took place. In the same way, doing that mental
exploration, he searched in the depths of his internal self, some disagreement of his
reality with something that came from outside, from something alien to himself. He
tried to find in the most intimate part of his being, something supernatural that was
possessing him, destroying his will.
In a first attempt, he did not go beyond determining that there was nothing in the
patient's past that would explain this deviation from his reality. But the night of that day,
when that titanic task had begun, Elvis felt something he had never felt before. They
had to use physical force to control that uncontrolled attack of fury and brute force. Six
custodians intervened to control him and manage to medicate him. His features changed
in such a way that he seemed to be another being. It even gave the impression that it had
increased in size. His voice was strange. Definitely those who had already seen it, did
not believe what they were observing. Without a doubt, it was someone else, the one
who was in the room.
The moorings seemed to come undone without even touching them. It was
something from another world, something unreal; something excessively macabre. Elvis
levitated, lifting more than two feet off the ground. While “floating” he was laughing
uproariously. His eyes looked like two balls of fire. They were all terrified. No matter
how strong and enormous the custodians were, they succumbed to the terror they felt
when they saw that diabolic scene. For two hours, they battled with that demonic figure
that wreaked havoc on itself. He made deep cuts with his nails as if they were sharp
razors. After which, the boy fell noisily to the ground, recovering his original
appearance; docile and lean in the extreme.
When the doctor arrived the next day to carry out his routine with Agustina, he found
the alarming story of what had happened the night before. Instead of worrying, the
psychiatrist's reaction was rather pleasant. He smiled and his gesture denoted
complacency. This event was precisely what he had wanted to happen. He no longer had
any doubts, he was in the presence of a diabolic possession. He only needed to explore
his other patient, who since he was there, had remained asymptomatic. If the same thing
occurs in her, her weapons would be correctly directed around her suspicions, no longer
so unfounded. He was just a few steps away from discovering that "mental illnesses"
were actually a demonic possession rather than an imbalance or everything that
modernism had insisted on affirming. But they still hadn't told him everything. In the
early hours of the morning, Agustina had presented something similar to what happened
with Elvis. In her, the attack of "madness" had lasted longer. The self-harm was brutal,
but when he recovered his original form he did not present even a scratch.
He considered it unwise to talk to her that day. He just watched her from a small
distance. She noticed it immediately and gave him a look of help, a look of fear. The
girl was terrified beyond measure. She lived an ordeal, it was no longer just the torment
for what she had done with her family, the rejection she felt from all those who looked
at her with enormous contempt, the hatred she inevitably felt towards herself; It was
also that sensation that remained in her, after feeling that something was taking over her
strength and her senses, making her enormously out of control.
The psychiatrist finally, after thinking about it carefully, did what was already
scheduled and approached her. As he did so, Agustina stood up and begged for his help.
He promised her. He waited for her to settle herself properly. The custodians,
suspicious, gave him a couple of warnings that he already knew very well. Minutes
later, he was installed inside the room occupying a chair, while she occupied the small
bed. They didn't say anything to each other for a while. He just looked at her, noticing
her even more nervous. Finally, he asked her a series of routine questions, before
starting the actual psychotherapy.
The door of the room was closed to guarantee the privacy of the act. The patient
always behaved submissively. On some occasions she, after a strange silence, a few
slight convulsions and oscillating movements of her eyes; she scolded him with a
terrifying look and spoke to him with a harsh voice, in a strange language. Some thick
veins were drawn on his forehead and in his throat. The psychiatrist did not show him
fear. After a few seconds she became fragile and unprotected again. Those amazing
changes happened, many times throughout the process. While carrying out the therapy,
constantly, the doctor made some notes that he considered pertinent. Two and a half
hours later, he left the site, very hopeful that soon the results would be encouraging and
would surely mark an amazing milestone that would definitely undermine the
foundations of modern psychiatry.
Doctor Germán remembered all that, while he was seized with a heavy anguish.
He considered himself finally confused, extremely subjected to that cruel torment that
his daring steps had caused. I hoped that what was going to happen would happen as
soon as possible, although I didn't know what it would be. He searched the drawer again
and took one of his books. As a small incentive he counted on them. He felt that time
was slowly crushing him locked up there, without looking at anyone or anything. He did
the basics while being guarded in a surprising way, as if he were by himself; was a
contingent of highly dangerous criminals. There were those books that at least made
him feel, if possible, that he was alive. I felt a comforting company when I appreciated
Honoré de Balzac with "La piel de Zapa", Gustave Flaubert with "Madame Bovary",
also Charles Dickens with "La Casa Desolada", Edgar Alan Poe and Horacio Quiroga
with his strings of stories, gloomy. And his favorite, Stephen King with his "Nightmares
and Hallucinations." He tried to mitigate his confinement by reading constantly. That
was a small oasis in that cruel desert that devoured him alive.
During some months the sessions followed one another on a regular basis. Monday
and Tuesday with Elvis, Wednesday and Thursday with Agustina and Friday with both
"sick". On Friday, the session was held in a larger special environment and with a
closed camera system, which filmed what was carried out. The psychiatrist's intention
was to perform a "psychic eviction of demons" through a series of events similar to an
exorcism, but without the religious component. It was something that no one
understood, but in which he fully trusted. He subjected them to hypnosis, made them go
back to the past, delved into their inner selves, voluntarily split their personalities. In
short, those days became critical, since atrocious sounds were heard, diverse voices
coming from a single throat. Levitations and other inexplicable acts were observed.
Without a doubt, the devil was present, he said, and he made notes on his record sheets.
At the end of his work, the psychiatrist would go home, or if he was urged, to examine
some element that was supposed to have acted under the influence of a mental
disturbance or simply acted crazy. There were already few daredevils who dared to do
so, since it was practically impossible for them to want to "put a pig in a poke" to that
eminent psychiatrist. His ability to clinically verify whether he was dealing with a true
mental disorder was already well known. In the afternoons, it was already his routine to
attend his private practice where he stayed until late at night, given the enormous
number of patients who came daily. Grown up was like that, his fame as an eminent
therapist.