Billy read, studied medical books, exercised in the gym, jogged around the building and painted. He sketched Arthur and painted Danny, Shawn, Adalana and April. He bought molecular models at the university bookstore and studied chemistry, physics and biology on his own. He bought a citizens’ band radio and started broadcasting at night from his hospital room—talking to other CBers about combating child abuse.

After reading in the local newspaper that My Sister’s Place, the Athens organization for battered women, was having difficulty paying bills and might have to close, he donated a hundred dollars. But when they discovered who the money was from, they refused his contribution.

On January 10, a little more than a month after his transfer to Athens, Billy opened a bank account in the name of the

Foundation Against Child Abuse and deposited a thousand dollars. It was part of the five-figure payment he had received from a woman in Columbus who was planning to open an art gallery and who came to the Athens Mental Health Center to buy the painting of the lady with the sheet music in her hand, “The Grace of Cathleen.”

He then had a bumper sticker printed, black letters on a yellow background:

HUG YOUR CHILD TODAY

“it’s painless”

PLEASE HELP STOP CHILD ABUSE—BILLY

Billy talked often with the young female patients. The nurses and mental health technicians knew that the young women were playing up to him, competing with each other for his attention. Nurse Pat Perry noticed that Mary, a former anthropology student, came out of her depression when Billy was around and talked to her. Billy admired Marys intelligence, often asking her advice, as she asked his. He missed her when she was discharged in January, but she promised to come back to visit him.

When he wasn’t talking to Mary, Dr. Caul or the writer, the Teacher would find himself bored and irritated by the confinement, and he would drop down to the level of Danny, David or the unfused Billy. It was easier for him to relate to the other patients this way. Some of the staff who had become close to Billy noticed that when he was Danny or David, he had a special empathy for other patients. He knew when they were upset, hurting or feeling fear. When one of the young women would leave the open ward in a state of panic or hysteria, Billy could often tell the staff where to find her.

“David and Danny are the parts of me that have empathy,” the Teacher explained to the writer. “They can feel where the hurt is coming from. When someone leaves and is upset, it’s like a beacon around where they are, and Danny or David will just point in the right direction.”

One evening after dinner, David was sitting in the living room when suddenly he imagined one of the female patients rushing toward the stairway railing outside the ward door—a steep three-floor drop down the center staircase. Ragen, who always thought David was weird for thinking these kinds of things, realized that what David was seeing was probably happening. He took the spot, dashing down the corridor and up the steps, slamming open the door and running out into the hallway.