The Blazing Rebellion

Chapter 24

John POV

John stepped inside of the infirmary, scanning the room. There weren't any other students that he could see; no one seemed to be injured today. Maybe things were better now that everyone wasn't beating everyone else up. It's because I terrified them too much to do so... and there's no one here that I've beat up because I've been holding myself back. He shivered to think of how he'd been in the past, the large numbers of people he'd sent here. It's okay. I'm not doing that now.

The new doc was sitting at her desk. John frowned to see her where the old doc had been; although the man had always hated him, he would've felt more comfortable talking to him. He was gone now, though, and this was the only choice. He couldn't miss more school at this point.

She looked up as he took another step into the office. "Are you injured?"

John opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. Physically, he was fine. Mentally? He didn't know anymore. Maybe, though, she would understand that as a doctor.

"I need something... to help me think more clearly," John began. What I really need is something to get Keon out of my head, but how do I explain that to her? It was hard enough to tell my dad what happened at the readjustment classes, and I've known him my whole life... He sighed. Maybe she could figure out what he needed from just that.

"Do you have a headache?" The doc asked, standing up and making to go to the back of the infirmary. John bit his lip.

"Not exactly..." He trailed off. It took him several deep breaths to continue on. He had the awful feeling that saying it would somehow make it more true, that Keon would hear him and tell him he wasn't allowed to get help. "It's more of something I can't get out of my head."

Now the doc turned to face him, looking him up and down. She could see that she noticed his dark eyebags by the way she paused at his face and frowned. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Um..." John didn't want to answer that. Nope, not very much at all...

"Tell me more about this thing you can't get out of your head. Is it something you're stressed about? Anxiety for a test?" She asked him. John shook his head. The doc looked over him again. "What's your name?"

"John Doe," He told her. His hands had begun to tremble by his sides. He got the feeling that she was seeing right through him, that she was going to figure out something was very wrong with him... Would she even care, though? No one does. They all think I'm a monster. All except... His mind flashed to a girl with magenta hair and dark blue eyes. Sera. She didn't think of him as a monster. He didn't want to think of her right now, though; it only brought up memories of all of the times he'd hurt her. Everything he did seemed to bring up those.

The doc had been searching through a file cabinet as he'd been lost in thought. She now set down a folder on her desk, flipping through it. John thought he saw a picture of his own face in it. It must've been his medical history. He winced to think of the many injuries he must've had listed from his time as a cripple... and the many he'd caused when he'd been King and Joker.

She closed the folder and sat back down at her desk, sighing and looking back up at him. "I'm going to need more details as to what's wrong if I want to help you. Please tell me."

John bit his lip, glancing around the infirmary.

"There's no one here, just us... I won't tell anyone," She told him as if reading his nervous thoughts. He let out a breath. Maybe it would be okay to tell just one more person if she really didn't give the information to anyone else.

"I can't stop..." He began, his voice giving out. Why is this so difficult?! "I... I can't stop thinking of the past."

The doc frowned. "What specifically?"

Really? I have to say more?! Fine. "Memories of me... hurting others."

His voice wavered with the words. John's hands had begun to shake at his sides once again. It was as if saying those words aloud showed the memories, exposed everything about him... he hated the feeling. If this was what it took to finally get them out of his head, however, he'd do it. He clenched his hands into fists to lesson the shaking and took a deep breath. Just get this over with so you can get back to class. I can't get even more behind.

"John... how long have these memories been bothering you?" The doc asked him. John was torn between throwing something at her for asking more questions and dropping to his knees to beg for medicine. He finally decided on just answering quickly and changing the topic.

"For a week or so. Do you have some sort of medicine I can take? Maybe one for stress or something that could clear my mind?" He could feel himself becoming desperate.

The doc stared at him for another second before reaching down and pulling open a drawer in her desk. She rummaged around in it for a few minutes before pulling out a paper. John frowned at it. What was she doing now?

"I can try to make you something..." She began. Then, she held the paper out to him. "Can you fill this out for me in the meanwhile? I have something I want to check."

"What is this?" John asked, taking it and glancing down.

"Just answer it as honestly as you can," She told him, already distracted with getting him something to help.

Frowning, he looked down at the paper. His stomach immediately dropped. It was full of questions he didn't like. Well, it was more that he didn't like his answers. They were what made him feel like he was messed up, that something was wrong with him.

"I don't want to take this," He told the doc, his voice edging on panic. If he did answer these all accurately, then they would know. He would be exposing himself even more.

"Please, John. It'll help a lot," She promised, turning around to face him and smiling. "Plus, it'll make it easier to give you medicine like this in the future."

John hated it, but maybe she was right. If filling this out could really stop Keon's voice in his head, then maybe... he sighed. If he just lied on half of them then it would be okay. They wouldn't know. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself.

Several questions later, John realized that he'd already given too much away. Once he'd started, it was impossible to stop. All of these answers were just so... accurate. He didn't sleep much. He did feel hopeless often. He was alone...

"John?" The doc asked, interrupting him. He'd finished the paper several minutes ago and had been staring at it, lost on what to do. He couldn't let her have this. It gave away everything.

Still, when she asked if he was done and reached for it, he couldn't bring himself to try and take it back. Maybe this was what he needed.

Then, the doc scanned it and told him something he'd been terrified of, and yet somehow never believed could apply to him.

"John, I think you may have a mental illness."