The office was bathed in sterile whiteness, lit harshly by fluorescent lights. The air smelled vaguely antiseptic, a scent John had grown sickeningly accustomed to. He sat stiffly, his fingers nervously tracing invisible patterns into his palm. The doctor sat across from him, calm and composed, a notepad in hand.
“They’ve tried all their due diligence to numb me down,” John began bitterly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Prescribed me with fucking painkillers, antidotes. Pill after pill. I’m done looking the other way.”
The doctor raised his eyebrow, leaning slightly forward. “And who exactly are these people?”
John chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ve been trying to put my point across for years now. It’s the deep state, the Illuminati—whatever the hell you wanna call it. They’re the ones who’ve got their paws on everything you can possibly think of.”
The doctor’s pen scratched gently against his notebook, patient yet subtly skeptical. “Yes, John, I have heard of this theory before. But it’s just a theory, isn’t it? Many people would rather invent silly little fantasies than confront the uncomfortable truths in their lives.”
At that, John felt a surge of rage bubbling inside him, hot and uncontrollable. He slammed his palm onto the armrest, leaning forward aggressively. “Now that’s funny you mention truths, Doc! This world couldn’t care less about the truth!” he yelled, his voice echoing slightly off the bare walls of the room.
The doctor maintained his composure, calmly waiting for John’s breathing to slow down. When the silence settled once more, he adjusted his glasses. “Believe me, John, I understand your struggles. I’ve watched many patients descend into darkness. From your records, I see you’ve been through many facilities. Would you like to talk about those stays? Perhaps reflect on why you were admitted?”
John’s lips curled into a bitter smile, shaking his head dismissively. “You shrinks keep asking the same old questions, year after year. I’m done with this bullcrap. It’s the same goddamn script repeated on speed dial.” Frustrated, he began to rise from his chair, preparing to leave.
“John, please,” the doctor interjected softly, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I genuinely want to understand. I don’t mean to seem uncaring. You came here for a reason, didn’t you? To talk, to reconsider, to look back. To finally share what’s been tormenting you.” He paused, meeting John’s eyes directly. “There are those who would happily take your money and leave you speaking to a blank wall. But I’m not one of them. I truly want to help you, John.”
John froze halfway to his feet, torn between his instinct to run and the faint hope of finally being heard. Slowly, he sat back down, the weight of years heavy upon his shoulders. He took a deep breath, gathering courage from somewhere buried deep within.
“You wanna know what’s been bothering me?” he said, his voice trembling with pent-up anguish. He leaned forward, eyes wide, lost in a memory too painful for words. “I watched them fucking die, Doctor. I watched my whole fucking family murdered right in front of my eyes.”
A thick silence settled between them. For the first time, the doctor showed a subtle but unmistakable tension in his jaw, his eyes momentarily flickering with a pain John couldn’t quite decipher.
The doctor adjusted his glasses again, taking a breath. “Why don’t we start there, John,” he said quietly, voice strained yet gentle. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”