[Hey guys, I'm sorry I deleted the initial story, I'm dumb as fuck and am really rusty with this site. I noticed there were a bunch of spacing errors and I decided to fix that. Anyways, here's the fixed chapter.]

It was finally over.

The game that had rent all previously conceived notions about their universe apart had finally ended, and the 4 humans had been returned to their original lives, as if nothing had happened. It was a confusing sort of victory, to be rewarded with a simple return to the way things had been before the game, but to the children, it was perhaps the greatest gift they could have wished for. To no longer deal with the nightmare that was Jack, the pain of losing loved ones, the confusion and frustration of winding through the intricately-wound fabric of the Incipisphere... Indeed, such an arduous journey had affected each of the children differently, the most prominent change of all being their transition from youth to maturity. Of course, the game had left many other, more sinister effects on each person...

John had last recalled completing the Scratch, the hard reset, and he, along with his other friends, had all worried whether they would be erased from existence once it was completed... That wasn't the case, however. As John let himself be swallowed up by the dissolving universe, the last thing he could recall from the ending Sburb session was a violent, intense ripping sensation that traveled into him, through him, and all around him... He had cast a final glance to his other friends, and the surviving trolls, on that tiny meteor they've come to know as their safe haven from the super-powered demon, and he tried to smile for them, to let them know it was all going to be okay... It's hard to be sincere to others when you yourself aren't sure about what will happen, though... John had to close his eyes, things were falling apart and peeling into ribbons, thousands of tiny strands multiplying and ripping-

"Son? Wake up, now, you've been asleep all morning..."

John's eyes snapped open, and he gasped as if he hadn't ever breathed before.

His blurry eyes raced around in his skull, taking in the familiar sight of his movie poster-adorned walls, his furniture, and... his father, who was alive and well, his passive gaze baring down onto his son. "Are you alright, John?" he asked, wondering if his son was waking from a nightmare. His worries were assuaged, though, as John looked up at him, and a wide grin broke out on the boy's face. "I've never been better, Dad," he said, and quickly climbed out of bed to grab his father into a tight hug. Mr Egbert was unsure why John was suddenly so affectionate, but he still smiled and pet John's black, ruffled hair, and said in a warm voice, "I'm glad, Son."

After John prepared himself for the day (such an odd, mundane sensation), he quickly hopped onto his computer and opened Pesterchum. He noticed the Sburb game data had disappeared from his hard drive, and he did not miss it in the least. When he signed on, he saw the 3 other names of his friends, but none of the trolls' chumhandles... John frowned; he was going to miss those strange and silly aliens... Focusing on his friends' chumhandles for now, though, John noticed that Rose was the only one who seemed to be online at the time. He supposed because her timezone was later than his.

Regardless, he was not picky about who to speak to, and abruptly opened a chat window and tried to contact her.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

EB: uh...

EB: hey rose?

EB: man i hope you're there...

TT: Yes I am, John.

TT: Though judging by your messages I'm supposing you're as confused as I am, regarding the reset business.

EB: yeah, what's with that?

TT: I'm afraid I know as much as you at the present, although I must admit I'm quite relieved we have not been obliterated from existence.

TT: We have gone through a rather considerable amount of circumstances, it would have been a shame to throw away all we have learned and experienced.

EB: heheh yeah.

EB: i guess that means dave and jade are okay too!

TT: Indeed, that seems to be the case.

TT: Although...

EB: what?

TT: Oh, never mind. You wouldn't wish to indulge your current thoughts on the matter to me.

EB: what matter?

TT: Well... I'm beginning to think things may not turn out as well as you may expect them to.

EB: what do you mean by that?

TT: How do you feel right now, John?

EB: oh jeez.

TT: I am simply asking as your friend, nothing else.

TT: My clipboard is far from within arm's reach and, much to my dismay, it seems my resource of good note-taking pens has been completely depleted.

TT: Besides, my concern for you shockingly overrides my interest in psycho-analysis.

TT: For the moment.

EB: haha okay well...

EB: i guess i can't say much, except i feel fine!

EB: i'm glad we weren't erased too.

EB: and i have my dad back!

EB: why, are you not feeling okay or something?

TT: I certainly have no reason to.

TT: I am back here with my mother, who has proven herself to be quite unchanged.

EB: uh, that's good.

EB: i guess?

EB: anyways, my dad wants me to come downstairs for breakfast.

EB: i'll let you know if i have any weird feelings.

EB but i doubt it!

TT: Indeed.

TT: Have a nice day, John.

EB: see ya!

ectoBiologist [EB] has ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

Rose retreated from her computer after John closed their chat, wandering over to the window and looking out at the familiar landscape. The forest was unmarred, and the lab next door was still fully intact. Her productive mind processed the conversation she just had. Being a Seer in the game had greatly magnified her ability to analyze, and even with her god tier now stripped from her, she had learned much from it. She had observed each of her friends very carefully throughout the session, and couldn't help but draw theories that they were more deeply affected by the game than they may know at the moment...

Her theories were very often right.

John had a cheerful breakfast with his father, who didn't seem to notice that he had also been part of a great struggle, and even died... John tried not to stare at his father's torso, in the spot he had been stabbed to death... His father casually mentioned that John had school tomorrow, and that he was quite

proud of the grades his son was upholding. Of course, he was unaware that John was gazing at him in confusion. School? That seemed so... insignificant, compared to what he had been through... But John had little choice but to comply to his daily regime again, and he couldn't help but feel relieved that he was now able to enjoy such simple things in life again.

The next day, John was waiting at his bus stop as usual, looking at the trees and remembering the strange, glowing blue trees from his Land... He sighed; he felt a few glubbing salamanders might make his wait a little more enjoyable than the other few young teens waiting quietly along with him.

After they arrived at school, John realized he had to wrack his memory to remember which classes he had. Homeroom, then Biology... Wait no, then Math, THEN Biology... But what was his homeroom again?... John spent so long re-familiarizing himself with his schedule that he arrived in his homeroom 10 minutes late. He simply took his seat, giving a soft, nervous laugh to the teacher. She didn't say anything, knowing John was not usually this late, and let him pull out his class supplies as she continued giving them a layout of their week's assignments. John found the mundane security of the classroom to be unnerving, though. Something was bound to happen... How was he able to see the meteors coming when he was stuck inside this small classroom? Nervously, John looked up at the clock on the wall. It had only been a few minutes since he had come into class, but it had also only taken a few minutes for him to realize his home would be destroyed... An air conditioner revved to life above them, and John felt ice flow through his veins in fear. It was happening again. The Reckoning was happening all over again, and he was nowhere near his house, only in this tiny, cramped classroom, with nothing, no items, no alchemization equipment, nowhere to escape... John glanced at the other students, who were perfectly calm and absorbed in their own work. Looking down at his own hands, now, he could see they were trembling, and the urge to cry out, to let someone KNOW, was rising...

The teacher noticed John was merely staring at his desk, and passively said, "John, may I ask what you're doing?" John jumped as he looked up at his teacher and, despite his panic, he merely strained a smile and said, "Just... reading..." he was frightened by how breathless he was, since speaking seemed to require a lot more air than usual... Come to think of it, so did breathing in general. John was unable to focus on the teacher's words, finding his breath hitching to a more shallow and desperate pattern. He wasn't used to this, he could always control air, he was the damn Heir of Breath... John felt his hands close up, his whole body felt like it was being strained, electrocuted, dipped in ice... He vaguely heard someone saying, "I think John's choking!" before he fell forward, leaning on the surface of the desk, now outright gasping and dripping tears onto his desk, feeling like he was going to die, it was any moment before they'd all be killed in a fiery hail... He was vaguely aware of someone pulling him up from his desk. The teacher was trying to get him to walk, to take him to the clinic, but John felt like he was standing on a floating plane, the world tilting and spinning too madly for him to make it past a few steps. He was suddenly on the ground, laying on his side, breathing so fast and shallowly but not getting a bit of the air he needed...

The teacher got onto the ground beside John, holding onto the trembling, sobbing boy and trying to calm him down. She knew he wasn't choking, but instead having a panic attack, something she had experienced herself before. She gave John a small plastic bag and told him to breathe into it, rubbing his back with her hand and muttering calmly. John did as he was told, feeling her comforting touches reaching through his fear, feeling the air returning to his lungs, his body unwinding slowly... His classmates were all watching, muttering worriedly to each other, and the teacher said to them, "John's going to be okay, go back to what you were doing." There was no chance of them complying to her request by now, but she wasn't very concerned about that for the time being. She stayed by John until his breathing returned to a more normal state, and then asked one of the students to volunteer to escort John to the clinic.

The visit to the clinic was practically useless by then, where John's temperature was taken, and various health-related questions were asked. It all amounted to nothing, his health returned to normal. Regardless, the clinician asked John whether he felt up to returning to class. Still feeling like he had an intense head cold, John shook his head and averted her gaze as she called Mr Egbert up, feeling shameful for having such an intense reaction for such a ridiculous reason...

Mr Egbert came in to pick his son up, walking out of the school with his hand on John's shoulder after speaking with the school's clinician. "You had a panic attack, Son?" he asked, his voice heavy with paternal concern. John grinned, a little more easily than before, and said, "I guess so, but it's no big deal, just something stupid..." His dad didn't like that answer, saying, "Now John, there are some things you have to tell your dad, especially if it's causing you this much trouble. Will you please tell me?" John stopped walking as they reached Mr Egbert's car, thinking hard for a moment. How could he tell his father what he had been through, when it was such an incredibly abstract and unbelievable journey? John said, "I'm fine, really. I just wasn't feeling good at the time, but I'm fine now." His father didn't seem all the way convinced, but nodded and said, "If there's anything you'd like to talk about, just lemme know. I'll always be there for you, Son."

That last statement made John feel a little sick to his stomach.

Later on that day, after John and his dad arrived home, he spent a little while downstairs before heading up to his room, flopping onto his bed and looking up at the wall. Around him, there were his subconscious wall scribbles, the startling discovery of them now so bland and predictable... He wished he hadn't marred such great gifts, or at least wished he couldn't see them again... Stupid game, stupid Incipisphere, stupid Skaia... John's gaze drifted to the computer, and the memory of his conversation with Rose yesterday resurfaced. That darn creepily-accurate girl... John slid out of his bed and flicked his desktop on, habitually moving the cursor over to Pesterchum and signing in.

ectoBiologist [EB] has begun pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

EB: hey rose?

TT: Greetings, John.

TT: You are usually not online at this time during a school day.

TT: May I ask why you're on so early?

EB: well, uh...

EB: this is kinda embarrassing.

TT: I assure you, I will treat what you say with utter non-discrimination.

EB: heheh, thanks.

EB: but anyways...

EB: i dunno how you know something was gonna happen, but earlier today i totally flipped the fuck out during class.

EB: it just came out of nowhere!

TT: May I ask what caused such a reaction, John?

EB: i dunno, the whole reckoning thing, i guess.

EB: for a second i thought it was happening all over again!

EB: pretty stupid, huh?

TT: Not really, actually.

TT: I was expecting something of the sort to happen to one of us, eventually.

EB: really?

TT: Yes, I'm afraid so.

TT: It's only natural to feel a certain amount of psychological strain after what you've been through.

EB: yeah but i really freaked out.

EB: i thought i really was gonna have to go through all that again, right in the middle of school!

EB: and then i couldn't breathe and stuff, it was really weird and kinda painful...

TT: You had a panic attack, then?

EB: the teacher told me i did, but i feel like it was more like me being a total wimpy wuss.

TT: A panic attack certainly doesn't constitute as being wimpy, John.

TT: You must not try to excuse this, for it is merely a warning that something much worse may be at hand.

EB: like what?

TT: I'd rather not say, honestly.

TT: In the meantime, why don't you try to relax? Take a walk, perhaps, open spaces might be beneficial to you at this time.

EB: okay, that sounds good right now.

EB: thanks, rose! i'll talk to you later.

TT: You're very welcome.

TT: Do take care, John.

EB: heheh, i will.

ectoBiologist [EB] has ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

John had waited until the time his middle school would let students out, in order to keep from getting in trouble, and then slipped on a light jacket and shoes. It was a cool and breezy spring day, the same time that they had left Earth like nothing had happened. John would always remember, though, the intense strifes, the struggle to survive, the taxing ordeals... Trying to push those thoughts out of his head, John idly strolled along until he came across a park, a smile playing onto his face. He had missed his town, it really was a peaceful place. He walked along the sidewalk, enjoying the light breeze and listening to kids playing, birds singing, dogs barking... John was too busy watching the playing kids to notice a young man with a terribly familiar-looking dog with him. The dog itself was a rescue animal, a big cheery black lab mix that had been through much in its life. Having been struck by some kind of large metal animal, it didn't mind that it now only had one eye to see through. Smelling was so much more interesting anyway! As for its missing front leg, well, it had 3 more to run and play with! It was quite happy with its owner, enjoying the smells and sounds of the park and eagerly tugging its way around on the leash. The young man was busy gazing at a few jogging women to notice his dog wanted to venture on, and quite suddenly he had no hold on his dog's leash anymore. Feeling its owner's hand gone from the leash, the dog began to run happily across the field, spotting an alone boy and running towards him. John heard tags jingling behind him, and when he saw the large black animal barreling right for him, he immediately remembered the evil,

indestructible carapacian... John felt fear strike him and began to run, which was a mistake, since it only made the dog believe he was playing chase. John looked behind him just in time to see the dog jump at him, tripping the both of them up and causing John to tumble into the grass. John whipped around and launched a desperate kick at the dog, his foot catching the poor animal across the shoulder. The dog yiped and snapped at John's foot, and all reason fled John's mind as he suddenly tackled the dog, his eyes burning with fear and hate. There was no longer an innocent dog beneath him, but a murderer, a violent evil creature that had killed so many of the people he loved, and he had him now, he was going to finally end it... He grabbed the dog around its neck, squeezing with both his hands, and the dog flailed and bit at him, trying desperately to escape-

John suddenly felt a severe pain across the back of his head. The dog's owner had punched him with his fist, hard enough for John to fall over from being temporarily stunned. The whimpering dog squirmed away from the terrifying human's grip, its fur hackles raised as it barked at him. The owner picked John up by his shirt collar and hit him again across the face, snarling, "The FUCK is wrong with you, you little bastard?" John was only able to stare blankly back at the man, completely unaware of what was going on. He was thrown down onto the ground, a foot pressed against his chest, as the man flipped his cell phone out and called the police. John lay there, his limp body allowing the man's shoe to press down onto his chest, his addled mind spinning as minutes flowed by in a strange blur- Policemen picked John up, holding his arms behind his body, as the bewildered boy faced little choice but cooperation with the authorities. He sat in the back of the squad car, listening to the feed of radio calls, only vaguely aware that his face was drenched with sweat and tears.

It was pretty difficult for John to explain what had happened to the police, of all people, though he managed to condense things to a semi-appropriate excuse: "I have a real bad phobia of dogs..." he said lamely, though he knew that even if that was true, he wouldn't have attacked the dog like that... The policeman gave him another harsh verbal reprimand as John waited for his dad, terrified of the anger he would most likely be facing... However, when Mr Egbert arrived, John was surprised to feel himself being swept up into a tight hug. John suddenly felt the day's weight crashing down onto him, and he was able to do little more than clutch his father and sob, eventually choking out, "I don't even know what happened..."

The car ride home was silent and awkward, and John refused to look up from his hands in his lap, hands that had scratches on them... When they pulled into the driveway, Mr Egbert turned off the car and, instead of leaving the vehicle, looked over at John. "Son, I know you're hiding something from me. Please, John, if you love me, you'd tell me." John couldn't believe the emotional burden he was suddenly charged with, but he bit his lip and said, "Okay... There was this game that I played with my friends..." Mr Egbert interjected, "What kind of game? Did they make you do uncomfortable things?" Blushing, John pressed on, "N-no, nothing like that! It's... It's a long story." Judging by the look on his father's face, though, John had a feeling he was willing to listen for as long as it took.

It was strange. At first, John had trouble finding ways to accurately describe his experience with Sburb, but after he got started, the words turned into sentences, which flowed into an entire tale, with his father sparsely interjecting at a few points, mostly parts where he was involved. Mr Egbert had no recollection of anything John was saying, and his confusion and pity grew with every sentence his son told him. When John reached the part about seeing his own father dead, he found himself unable to continue. His throat closed up and tears stung at his eyes, and Mr Egbert frowned, offering his son another gentle hug. They had entered the house by the time John had started this long, strange tale, and as he hugged John, Mr Egbert cast a glance around the house. Things were perfectly normal, every last archeological and interior detail in place, and there had been no such incident of catastrophic proportions he could possibly recall. Looking down at his son, he said resolutely, "I promise I will help you, John."Charges against John had been dropped, since the owner's dog had suffered minimal harm, and John had never been deemed as a threat before. He was taken home, where he spent the night in his room, curled up in his bed and wondering what the hell was wrong with him to cause him to do such a horrific thing...

The next day, his father didn't wake him for school, John waking that morning and immediately noticing it was later on in the day than usual. He got up with some alarm, dressing then heading downstairs, wondering why his father hadn't woken him. It turned out, Mr Egbert hadn't even gone to work, and was in fact waiting for John in the living room. John smiled as he reached the bottom of the stairs and said, "Hey Dad, why're you home?" His smile faded, though, as he saw his dad's expression. It was a strained smile, and... John's stomach sank, as he noticed his dad looked like he had been crying... Mr Egbert tried to keep his voice normal as he said, "Hello, John. I took the day off so I could arrange some things for you..." John picked up the ominous tone, and said nervously, "What do you mean?"

"John, I'm going to take you to a place where they can help you."

John felt the horribly familiar sensation of ice flow through him. "But... There's nothing wrong with me..." he almost whimpered, fear etched into his face. His father picked up on that, and said gently, "Of course not, you just need someone to help you with... your thoughts..." John began to shiver as he did whimper, "You're gonna... take me to an institution?" He began to lean against the wall, his legs trembling and his breath constricting again... Mr Egbert got up and timidly approached John, saying, "Just for a little while, John, they can help you!" John recoiled from his father, though, crying out, "There's nothing wrong with me!" His father looked ready to cry again, as he replied with failing calm, "I know, Son! You think this isn't hard for me too?" John couldn't hear it, though, his lungs were ceasing up and refusing to take in any more air. Sickening dizziness overcame John, and he felt himself sliding down the wall as he sobbed, clutching his ears and shaking his head. The arms around him weren't comforting this time, not from the man who betrayed him, who was willing to give him up to others, who didn't believe him...

That evening, John's father gently instructed for John to pack a suitcase, offering him one of his. John grimly complied, but not before he got onto the computer and did something he hadn't ever done before: he opened a Pesterchum memo, and invited his three friends onto the board... Then he began to type.

ectoBiologist [EB] opened public bulletin board i'm really sorry guys.

EB opened memo on board i'm really sorry guys.

EB: please, if you're all at your computers, i really need you guys to read this.

EB: i don't really have much time, so i'll try to keep it short.

EB: rose, you were right.

EB: i don't know how you knew, but i'm not okay.

TG: yo egbert whats up with all this noise

TG: and what about rose now

TT: Hush, Strider. Each message, in time, will be revealed.

TG: okay go on john the suspense is killing me here

TG: im teetering on the edge of my seat like some poor mans chinese acrobatic act

TG: gimme a couple of plates to spin i cant do that shit

TG: dont have to worry about breaking them though that shits paper

TG: all my poor ass can afford

EB: dave, as much as i love your humor, please shut the fuck up for a second.

TG: whoa okay man whats up

EB: i'm sorry... i just...

EB: god, this is so hard...

GG: john whats going on?

GG: cmon you can tell your best friends.

EB: i'll just come on out and say it.

EB: my dad is sending me to a nuthouse.

EB: hello?

TG: egbert dont fuck with us like that

TG: cmon man jokes over hahahaha

GG: ...omg! really? D:

TT: My apologies for my halted response, I found myself rendered speechless.

EB: i'm so sorry everyone...

EB: i guess out of all of us, i was the first to snap.

TT: Out of all of us, you have probably been through the most.

TG: i dunno about that rose GG: shoosh dave!

GG: john i really wish this was a joke.

GG: but its not is it? :(

EB: i wish it was too.

EB: but no, this is no prank...

EB: if it was it'd be the shittiest prank ever.

EB: so i'm just gonna say EB: goodbye everyone.

EB: i'm sorry i wasn't stronger.

TG: john youre one of the raddest dudes ive ever met im being 100 percent honest here

TG: no aloof coolkid bullshit here only the honest to god truth

GG: yeah john...

GG: i just can't believe it...

TT: Despite my predictions, I had not estimated it would come to this...

TT: I will try to remain in contact with you, but in the meantime, I hope that you will receive the care you need.

TG: yeah egbert dont give those whitecoats too much trouble

TG: or too little

TG: they like to be kept on their toes you know how it is

GG: omg john ill miss you so much! ;~;

EB: i can't really see the screen really well right now, sorry.

EB: i love you guys, all of you.

EB: i hope i will see you all again.

EB: goodbye everyone...

EB closed memo.

John finally stopped trying to hold back his tears after he closed the memo, taking a moment to remove his glasses before leaning onto the computer table, sobbing freely as he felt despair overcome him completely.

The next day, John brought his father's suitcase out to the car, loaded up with clothing and personal items, and threw it into the trunk, climbing into the passenger seat and looking out the window. He was trying to take in as much of his town as he could, until he was no longer able to recognize where his father was taking him. It took almost an hour until Mr Egbert turned into a road leading up to a large building. John felt fear welling up in him again, looking to his dad with pleading eyes and trying to say with a calm tone, "Dad, you really don't have to do this, I don't need to be here..." His dad said nothing as he pulled into a parking space, his gaze fixed on the dashboard. John felt more panic flooding his system, his eyes growing wider. "You're not serious, please Dad, I can fix this myself, I don't need these people..." Mr Egbert gritted his teeth as he got out of the car, heading to the trunk and trying not to give in to his son's pleas, who was now simply beginning to cry in the passenger seat. His father's heart was breaking as he opened the passenger door and held a hand out to John, who refused to leave the car. "No," he whimpered through his cries, "No, I won't go..." His father's voice was the saddest he had ever heard it be, though, as he replied, "Son, please... Please, don't make this any harder..."

Both Egberts were in an equally dismal state as they entered the mental hospital, John bawling freely as his father determinately tried not to do more than let the tears fall down his face. Mr Egbert guided his son to a lobby chair as he approached the front desk, speaking with the receptionist behind it. John slumped into the chair, glaring up at any of the scrubs-clad assistants ambling around. He watched his father, who was signing paperwork and wiping his eyes with a tissue the receptionist had supplied. His heart sank, this was really happening... But... maybe... it wouldn't have to... John's mind kicked into a determined state, his experience in Sburb teaching him one good thing: he was in control of his own decisions. John looked to the hospital exit, adrenaline beginning to flow through his veins. He didn't have to just sit here and wait for him to be taken from his father... There was still time... Without trying to put too much thought into it, without trying to attract too much attention, John quietly got up and began to make for the exit. Unfortunately for him, this was certainly nothing new for the nurses who were casually monitoring him, the men walking casually toward the exit as John sped up. When he noticed his escape was being quickly closed off, John broke out into a straight bolt, reaching out for the doors-

Both of his extended arms were grabbed, and John found himself being pulled away from the exit. "No! NO! I DON'T BELONG HERE!" he screamed, struggling harder against the two strong men. One of them said, "Calm down, kid, or we'll have to force you to." John spat out, "Fuck you! Lemme OUT!" John stared at his father, who had his hands over his mouth, where only his tearful eyes were showing. "Dad, PLEASE!" he cried out, and his heart leaped in hope as he saw his father take a step forward- A sudden sting welled up on one of his arms, one of the nurses pulling a small needle out of his skin. John felt one last burst of panic, struggling against the men harder than ever. The nurses let him go this time, knowing he wasn't going to get far. Instead of heading for the door this time, though, John fled to his dad, clutching him and sobbing, "Don't let them take me..." John felt his body quite suddenly numbing up, to a point where he couldn't support his own weight anymore, and he felt himself sliding down his father's torso before the man gripped his limp body, stroking his son's hair as he watched those frightened blue eyes sliding out of focus. "I'm so sorry, John," Mr Egbert muttered, holding his unconscious son to him.

Thoughts began to murkily drift into John's mind once more, and it took him enormous effort to open his eyes... He was laying in a sterile-looking bed, the covers pulled crisply over him, and his throat was painfully dry. He had been snoring through his mouth the whole time he was asleep, and he found it extremely difficult to wet his mouth again. Squinting for his glasses, John found them on a bland-looking bedside table, grabbing them up and slipping them on. The room came into focus, though he could have just as easily taken it in without visual aid. It was so sterile, so blank... John pulled the blanket off and got up, his head spinning from the lingering sedative. He saw his suitcase on the ground leaning against a dresser, with a note that let him know the contents had been examined and some things deemed potentially dangerous might be missing. John didn't think he had packed anything dangerous, though when he went through his things, he found himself becoming increasingly aggravated to find his belt, his toothbrush, his damn shoes, all missing. The only thing that they had let him keep were his clothes and his Con-Air bunny, which had also undergone an examination for hidden weapons. John spent a while putting things away into the dresser, then cast a glance to the door. Was he stuck in this room? Would he be isolated here for the rest of his stay? John came up to the door and turned it... It opened quite easily.

John cast a nervous glance around the empty hallway, and then stepped out into it, the door gently clicking closed behind him. John was wearing socks, his feet softly patting against the linoleum floor as he walked past other rooms he assumed were duplicates of his. Perhaps they were alchemized... John shook his head, knowing those kinds of thoughts were what got him into this mess in the first place.

Glancing up at the plain walls, the bleak halogen lights, John frowned. This wasn't as creepy as the horror movies depicted, to his somewhat disappointment, but he figured he had yet to meet the inhabitants... John met the end of a hallway, a flight of stairs leading up and down. Assuming the more populated region was lower, John began his descent.

Noises began to reach John's straining ears as he descended a few floors, the previous identical wings giving way to an open recreation room. In it were only men of varying ages, the women's ward on the opposite side of the hospital. John looked around nervously; It seemed like a fairly normal area, with men in various outfits of their choosing, some more apparently addled than others. There were games and, to John's relief, a few computers, which looked fairly out of date but in good working condition... Some of the men looked up and noticed John, and one of them grinned and waved, saying, "Welcome back, Reggie!" John merely gave the young man a perplexed expression, and another young man muttered plainly, "Just ignore him, he says that to everyone."

John ambled over to the computer, frowning to find it password protected. He supposed he'd have to ask someone for access... Looking around the room again, John noticed a guard standing by the door, and nervously approached him. The man noticed the timid young man approaching him, and said, "Yeah?" John muttered, "Uh, well, I just... wanted to use the computer..." The man examined John more closely, and said, "You new here?" John nodded, and the guard continued, "Well before you hang out here, you'll have to be assessed by one of the doctors. Come this way, please." He gently put a hand on John's back, leading him out of the rec room and down a few halls.

When they reached a door with the occupant's name on it, John let out an audible groan of disbelief. The doctor's damn name was Scratch. Doctor Scratch. Looking down at him, the guard asked, "You okay?" John sighed and said, "Yeah..." The guard opened the door for John, and he entered the room. Sitting at his desk, an older man, completely bald, was scrawling something onto paper, until he looked up and said, with absolutely no expression, "Mr John Egbert, please sit down."

Not about to ask why someone named Doc Scratch immediately knew his name, John fell onto the chair in front of his desk, crossing his arms and legs and glaring at him. Scratch took immediate notice of John's body language, saying, "Insecurity is natural when you first arrive. I assure you, though, we are not here to cause further strain on you." John scoffed, finding his biting cynical side. "I'm not insecure, I'm mad because I-" "Don't belong here, yes." John opened his mouth angrily, but said nothing, as Scratch continued. "I'm afraid I must say, if you didn't belong here, you would not be here at all." Doc Scratch leaned back in his chair and examined John, who glared back. "Mr Egbert, I have some idea of what you are here for, but I would like to ask you yourself: why do you believe you are here?" John let out a small huff. Of course, all these mind games... "I'm here because I wasn't able to keep my mouth shut," he said bitterly, looking out the window. Doc Scratch's expression remained constantly blank, and he silently consulted his chart. "John Egbert, male, 14 years old, admitted here by his guardian. Patient claims of a reality-changing video game having affected his life, but no evidence suggests such a game ever took place." He found John's gaze locked back onto him, those sapphire eyes bleeding anger. "Mr Egbert, are you aware of the term schizophrenia?"

That was it. John leaped from his chair, snarling, "I'm not crazy, you big fucking cue ball!" For the first time since John arrived in the office, he saw a trace of surprise behind the doctor's face, but it was wiped clean once more. "Excuse me, Mr Egbert? Did you just call me a pool term?" John realized he had slipped up, and Doc Scratch rode with his faltered defenses, continuing, "You may believe there is nothing wrong with you, that this game had really happened, but the truth of the matter is, the mind is a very powerful tool of delusion when it wants to be." John, who was still standing, growled, "You can't tell me it never happened, no matter how much psychobabble and drugs you put into me. It happened, goddammit!" Doc Scratch raised a hand, calmly pressing on, "You think that now, but we are here to help you overcome the spell your mind has put on you." John let out an exasperated cry, and put his hands on the doctor's desk now, looming over him. "I will never forget what happened," he persisted, feeling his anger rising at that smug, emotionless face staring back at him. Doc Scratch was not intimidated in the least, though, and said, "Mr Egbert, I will ask you to calm yourself, before I am forced to contact someone to escort you out." John narrowed his eyes at the man, before sinking into his seat again. Doc Scratch didn't smile, saying, "Very good. Now, you are projecting hostility towards those who don't believe you, a common reaction. I believe the time to discuss medications is in order."

Despite John's protests, which could only carry so far until he was threatened with temporary sedation, he ended up being prescribed several drugs, one for schizophrenia, and two others for anxiety and aggression. John knew the last one was only because he had been so curt toward that damn doctor, but he angrily trudged back to the rec room, locating the same guard. The man noticed John looked a lot more disgruntled, and simply waited quietly until John stopped in front of him and said, "Okay, I talked to the doctor. Can I use the computer now?" The man asked him, "Were you prescribed medications?" John skipped a second to say, "No," and the guard immediately picked up on it. "Let's go make sure, shall we?" he asked. John frowned and said, "He didn't give me anything!" The guard nodded and said, "Let's go, your meds will be ready by now." He put his hand behind John's back again, trying to escort him in the same fashion as before, but the boy immediately recoiled from him, almost shouting, "I don't need any medicine!" He was attracting attention from the patients, now, but he didn't pay them any mind. The guard gave an exasperated sigh, and said, "Your consent isn't necessary by now, you know. Just come with me, take your meds, and you can use the computer." John gave the man a lingering glare, but silently let himself be led off again, this time down one flight of stairs, then to a nurse's desk.

The woman behind the desk looked at John with disinterest, and said, "Last name." John muttered, "Egbert..." The nurse looked his name up and read out, "John Egbert, 14, diagnosed with schizophrenia, anxiety, aggression... Prescriptions are Upliftive, Benificia, and Placatium. Take one set once a day, please swallow these and open your mouth when you're done." She slid him two paper cups, one with three different pills, another with some water. John frowned down at the medicine, his heart sinking... Had he really fallen this far? It had taken such little time... With a sad sigh, he tossed back the pills and drank the water, let the nurse examine his mouth, then hung his head in silent defeat.

John took a seat at the computer, the guard taking a moment to type in the password before the desktop screen opened, and he left John to do what he wished. Seeing no Pesterchum app, John opened the web browser. It was heavily filtered; John couldn't open any of the sites he commonly visited, or even access his email. Isolation hit him harder than ever, and John looked around the spacious, but securely enclosed room. Now he didn't even have his friends to help him... John sadly got up from the computer and walked away, sitting in the corner and hiding his face behind his arms and knees.

It took about a week for John to notice the medicine taking effect on him. He didn't have schizophrenia, at least, not as severely as others believed, and the medicine made him feel constantly dreary and non-energetic. The anti-anxiety and anger medications were dropped after a few days, since he stopped trying to argue with the doctor, and he had no panic attacks from any sort of relapse thus far. The counselors had John participating in group sessions, where he merely sat listlessly and watched the other strange boys speak, or read, or do their own strange, nonsensical things. His time at the hospital soon stretched into weeks, the time turning into a hazy, joyless blur. John had a few names memorized by then, a few familiar men around his age that had mild disorders, who were also upset about their situation. John didn't spend a lot of time with them, not the people who only made him feel worse about staying here, but they were the simple contact every sociable human desired. John was sitting on the couch with them, his eyes drawn into a constant half-lidded state, his frame limp and his mind buzzing lethargically. He had learned that the most important rule among patients was to just keep your mouth shut and your head low, or they'll shove more meds at you, let those cursed syringes show on their belt a little more...

John's muddled mind was brought into more focus as the boy next to him elbowed him, grinning and muttering, "Check it out, Egg, new arrival." John focused with some difficulty, looking up at a dark-skinned young man. John's heart leaped into his throat as he snapped out of his drugged stupor for the first time since he started on the prescription, gazing intently at the boy. He immediately recognized the face, with those dark eye bags, that scrubby black hair, that disgruntled glare... Before he knew what he was doing, John got up and drifted over to the boy, who caught his gaze and seemed to light up with the same revelation. John stopped in front of him, and asked apprehensively, "Karkat...?"