5SOS doctor/ dentist imagines

Doctor (imagine for teeny_tiny_)

*trigger warning, focuses on gun violence*

Over and over, I knocked on Mr.Hemming's door.

It was the middle of class, but I couldn't be in there. We were having a meeting at lunch anyway where I was meeting a therapist- we'd only moved this month and they were helping with connections.

"Sir," I called, desperately hitting the piece of wood with no answer. I could hardly hear over my heartbeat, and my senses were even more distorted when the cold floor hit my body.

I leant against the door, squeezing my fists together and closing my eyes.

We were reading a book, and I just remembered it happening. The flashes. The screams. The bangs.

He wasn't in his office but I stayed anyway, hearing footsteps down the hall. I almost shrieked.

"Violet, I'm sorry, it's Mr. Hemmings,"

"Sir," I begged, the door opening behind me and his strength carefully standing me up.

"Sit down wherever you want. You're safe in here. I'm gonna make two super quick phone calls,"

My routine was broken. Everything felt like it was spiralling down. I couldn't stop it. Just like I couldn't stop her.

Stop my friend falling to the ground. Stop the classroom door opening. Stop parents crying.

The school bell went and I fell over, moving the bin and slotting between the bookcase and the wall. The door opened, and I shouted.

"Stop,"

"Violet, hey, hey, can you look up at me?"

I did.

"You are so far away from it all. This school has police, and you have ids look," he said calmly, pointing to the one hanging round my neck.

"But it still happened,"

"I know, and it's a very real thing. Did anything in particular start this?"

My ears were ringing, and I covered them, hitting my head on my knees. But I could hear it all.

Her voice. The warning. My teacher frantically trying to save us.

"Make it stop,"

"Violet, I know it's hard but breathe,"

"Make it stop!"

He grabbed my hand and rested it on his chest, gently rubbing my back. I knew he wasn't supposed to do this, but any stranger on the street would, and there's no way I could sit here alone.

This one was worse than before, I could just feel it. 

"I should've stopped her,"

"You couldn't,"

"I saw my best friend die. I could've stopped her,"

"She had a gun. You were hiding behind a table. We know how that would've ended,"

"I wish it had. This hurts more,"

"Sweetheart, I know you feel guilty, and I know you saw such horrible things but none of it was your fault,"

"I see that every time I try to sleep,"

"You know Dr. Irwin right?"

"The scary therapist they want me to see ?"

"He's not scary," sir chuckled, my breath hitching up again. Every time I thought it was getting better, it didn't.

"Mr. Hemmings," I choked out, "I feel like I'm gonna be like this forever. My chest hurts and my head hurts, and I just keep hearing the screams,"

"Listen to me Violet. You've been here for a week, and in that week I've seen you more times than most students in a year. I have no problem with you being here, in fact I think you should be working in here, but he can help you even more,"

I shook my head and rocked back and forth, not wanting someone else. I felt like I was back at the police station, being interrogated just hours after I'd seen it all.

"But I'm scared,"

"You don't need to be. He's gonna come and sit where I am, and I'll sit just by the wall,"

"He's here?"

"Relax, okay? He won't hurt you,"

Quickly, they swapped round and I felt a more at ease person beside me. Sir wasn't professionally trained for it, so it would be distressing.

"I'm Ashton- the scary one," he laughed lightly, placing his hand on my back, "Can you take your hands from your ears?"

"No,"

"Why not?"

"Because I can hear them screaming, and crying,"

"Okay, okay," he shushed, taking my hands off anyway and pulling me to my feet.

"I know you want to hide, and escape, but you need to let your body be comfortable,"

"Sit in my desk chair," sir said, handing me a bottle of water. I was shaking to much to open it so he did for me, my heart pounding against my head.

"I'm sorry,"

"What for?"

"This first impression,"

"I don't care love, I'm not here to judge you,"

"Please help,"

"I'm gonna try, you've got to let me though,"

"I will,"

"Now, what started this?"

"A book, about war,"

He nodded, sir shaking his head and making a note. I assumed I wasn't supposed to be shown these things, but the message must've not got round.

I didn't want to see those things.

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Sick. And anxious. And guilty,"

"Guilty, why?"

"Because, I should've stopped her," I repeated. It kept me up at night.

"You have to understand that you couldn't. No one could. You did all the right things at the time, you're a kid,"

"I don't feel like it. I'm always here instead of class. My parents treat me like a piece of glass. I have no friends,"

"But you're coming to school, and for you to walk down some halls again, that's incredible Violet,"

"Sir, my chest hurts,"

"You listen to Ashton okay?" he said, rubbing my back, "it won't be tomorrow, or next week, or next month, but one day you will feel better,"