Ordinarily UnOrdinary

Among a crowd of people, Im really just a John Doe

*Seinfeld theme*
...

White walls and floors.
A gunshot
Scarlet leaking out from the cracks and imperfections.
The thick liquid infecting the purity turning the room into death.
A childlike voice whispers into an ear.
The words are incomprehensible, scattered about like rose petals.
The air taste like copper and iron.
Why
W h y
W H Y

*

John jumped awake, streaks of sweat racing down his face, neck, chest and back. The unfamiliar taste of copper lingered in his mind.

Wiping the sweat off his brow and forehead, he swung his legs in a sideways motion, and slid off the bed.

Hobbling over to the bathroom, John glanced at his reflection.

A distressed, black haired, sleep deprived teenager stared back at him. The corners of his eyes were red and irritated. Turning on the facet, he cupped his hands allowing water to collect. Once a satisfying amount was acquired, he splashed his face and went to start his daily routine.

His dad was already awake, and brewing his morning cup of coffee. Hearing his sons footsteps, the older male directed his attention towards John.

"Morning John."

John gave only a half hearted wave in return, his mind focused on retrieving the cereal box from the top self of the pantry. Cursing his lack of a few extra inches, John rose up on his tippy-toes and managed to grab the bottom of the cereal box.

"Oh, shit, sorry John. I used the rest of the milk for my coffee. I'll have to buy another gallon when I come home.."

John released his grip on the box, and shoved the pantry door shut.

"You alright John? You're looking quite irritable this morning.."

Williams words trailed off while he took in his sons appearance. "Did.. Did you stay up again?" His voice was hopeful, but he already knew the real answer.

John shook his head, as he swung open the fridge door, looking for the bagels. He spotted the breakfast item, and quickly reached out to retrieve it.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

The teens movement stopped in hesitation, before continuing again. That was enough to tell William what he needed to know.

"John, you know you can always talk to me, and..."

He paused, licking his lips, trying to formulate the right words.

"and if you don't want to, I can get you another therapist or-"

"no." John had finally spoken up.

"John, these dreams are constantly tormenting you! As your father, I feel obligated to do something about it. I-i just sit by and watch you suffer each morning. You look like a zombie for goodness sake."

"Dad, I'm fine, really."

"How is this fine!?" William made a gesture towards John's body.

Silence.

"Well?", William pushed, knowing he had backed his son into a corner.

"I don't want another therapist, okay?! The last one..they.. They said I Was crazy, tried to put me on meds." John's voice had risen to match the tone of his fathers'.

William recoiled in shock, "You never told me this."

"Cause I thought you'd support them and slip the meds in behind my back. I was afraid dad." John huffed, looking away from his dad, the bagels were forgotten on the countertop.