The place that sends you mad

Dib frowned at the man seated in front of him, large desk between them, while he only received an infuriatingly calm, calculating stare in return. Leaning back in his uncomfortable chair, the boy bit back an unhappy groan. He was sore all over. The orderlies that had picked him up from school – or to put it in better words, abducted him against his will – hadn't really been gentle with him when he had started struggling. In hindsight... with the fight he had put up, kicking and screaming at them to leave him alone, the whole school probably had had any and all possible doubts regarding his mental stability excluded. They had thought him crazy before, so no-one would care if he was dragged off by whitecoats.

His attention returned to the man in front of him, still watching him with this all-knowing expression, likely waiting for the boy to speak. After a few more minutes, Dib carved in and opened his mouth. „Why am I here?"

A long sigh was heard, as the man, a psychiatrist judging from the name plate on his desk, leant back into his chair, folding his hands in front of his chest. „You should know why you are here, Dib. You need help. You are... confused and your father-"
„My father?! What does any of this have to do with my father?"

Another sigh. This was getting annoying fast and Dib's frown only darkened. „Your father expressed his concern regarding your state of mind. We are here only to see how we can help you."

„I don't need help. Not the kind of help you can give me, anyway. I am not crazy." The twitch of lips beneath a full moustache told Dib exactly what he had suspected. „You don't believe me." It was a fact and Dib lowered his head, fighting down a sudden anger that threatened to rise within him. „What happens now?"

The man smiled in a way he must have though was going to calm the boy. „Nothing bad. We will talk a little, run some tests, see what you will need to get well. Your school sent us your files, they have been.. interesting. You are a very intelligent young man, but it seems you still have troubles growing up." What he pulled up and placed on his desk was all too familiar to the boy. His school record, along with the files Dwicky had added. It was a thick pile of paper and Dib knew he was in for some explaining. That Dwicky... leaving him behind like this and leaving behind a huge amount of files which claimed just how bad his mental health was. He glared at the giant folder, feeling his anger rise again.

When the man cleared his throat, Dib blinked up at him, pulled from his train of thoughts and he cursed inwardly. Of course... zoning out in front of a person who already thought him a lunatic, good idea.

„Let's see. There are several notes left by your school counselor... schizophrenia, schizo-effetive disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, delusional disorder, intrapersonal communication, neurosis, depression, adjustment disorder and social withdrawal. I think... we will have a lot to talk about."

With each 'diagnosis', Dib shrunk in his seat, knowing he'd have serious troubles proving them wrong. Especially when he SAW it in the man's eyes, the conviction that Dib was severely ill.

„Can I speak with my father?" He asked quietly, thinking that maybe he would at least get his father to get him out of this. But his hopes were crushed right away.
„No, Dib. He said that he does not want to interfere with your therapy. He will talk to you when you are feeling better."

„But...I'm... I'M NOT CRAZY!" the boy finally yelled, knowing it was not helping his case, but unable to stop himself. The chuckle he received was dripping with arrogance and a foretaste of what was awaiting him. With a low thump, the door opened and two orderlies stepped in, not even bothering with a greeting before they snatched Dib out of his seat and proceeded to 'accompany' him to a room in the locked ward and no one even bothered looking up as the screaming and kicking boy was dragged along.

Calm down.

Calm down.

Just calm down.

Acting up would not help him. That much he knew. But it was hard to stay calm when he was being treated like this. Pacing the tiny, white room, Dib fought down his panic.

He had never been very claustrophobic, but he was starting to very quickly develope a dislike for being locked in a small, windowless room. It couldn't have been more than an hour since he was thrown in here, but it was hard to tell with no clock, no window and his mind running a mile a minute with desperate attempts to figure a way out of this mess. The doctor thought him severely, mentally ill and his admittedly distracted behaviour was not making him seem more stable. But allright.

The best thing to do now was relax and do as he was told. Act as normal as possible. Play along with whatever little games they wanted to play and then somehow convince them that he knew where reality ended and fantasy began.
He made a large, mental note not to mention Zim in front of them. Ever.

Zim...

Dib stopped his pacing and lowered his head. Zim was waiting for him to return with his snacks. The little alien would be pissed when he was late and he really could do just fine without being yelled at after this whole crappy day.

IF he even managed to get out of here that soon...

Now that was a train of thought he didn't need. Suddenly, returning to Zim's base and getting yelled at sounded just fine to him, in contrast to spending the night in a crazy house with people who wouldn't believe a single word even if he told them the truth.
Dejectedly, he moved to sit on the edge of the small cot, the scanty thing the only piece of furniture aside from a tiny dresser in the corner. With a groan he noticed the rounded, padded edges of the wood, making sure no one would accidentally bump their head and damage themselves.

Hours went by before he was graced with another face again. A nurse opened the small peephole and, only after checking on him, opened the door. „Here. Take these and then try to rest. We will start your tests tomorrow morning." A tray with some food, a plastic bottle with water and an alarming amount of pills were placed on his dresser.

„I don't want to take those." Dib nodded towards the colorful capsules and pills.

The nurse just huffed in annoyance. „You will take them. Either by yourself or I'll have someone help you with them." It was a threat and Dib's eyes widened.
„You can't treat me like that! I am not crazy, I''ll be fine without those pills." Pretty as she was, the nurse's face pulled into an ugly frown. „Do not make me call an orderly. Take your medicine like a good little boy and we won't have any troubles."

Sighing, Dib reached over to pick up the pills, eyeing them a long moment, before pushing them into his mouth and drinking from the water bottle. When the nurse seemed to be satisfied with him, she left the room without another word. Quickly, he got up and spit the pills he had hidden under his tongue into the sink. No way he was going to let himself be drugged like this. By the look of things, there were at least two types of sedatives and probably some antidepressants.

What seemed like a tiny victory would soon turn out to only worsen his situation, though. Half an hour later, the nurse returned, along with another white-coated orderly and a small tray with desinfectant and a syringe. Immediately suspicious, Dib stood, backing away into the corner of the room. The young woman looked at him disapprovingly. „Really, Dib. Did you think you could get around your medication? It's mportant for you. Maybe you'll need some help taking them at first, hm? It's just a little prick and I promise you'll feel much better afterwards."

„I don't need any drugs. I'll be fine." came the nervous reply. „I won't make a fuss, okay? So just leave me alone." The orderly was a young man, probably in his early twenties, but easily two heads taller and probably double his weight as well. „Don't be afraid, it'll be over quickly."
Again, Dib shook his head, trying to edge away from the two blocking his path to the door. „Please, I'll be just fine." He tried again, but to no avail. The larger man had him by the arm before he could get any further away, the large hand gripping firmly and with an underlying threat of adding some pain should Dib choose to struggle further.

The jab was quick and barely hurt, Dib's mind still too shocked to register it fully. There wasn't much time to feel the faint heat and burning the liquid caused in his arm, the impact of it turning his world upside down with a wild spin.
Suddenly... everything stopped mattering, nothing was wrong anymore, no threat, no pain, no worries and as the boy slumped onto the thin mattress behind him, he gave a sluggish smile. It took several moments to comprehend that the low buzzing in his head were, in fact, words spoken to him. „Don't worry. You will get used to them soon, after a few days you won't be as inebriated anymore. Get some sleep." Dib had troubles figuring out where the speaker was, he tried moving his head to the side only to have his eyes jerk back and forth in protest at the sudden movement. His head was responding with another wild spiraling sensation and Dib gave up, just closing his eyes and lying down as flat as he could.

A few moments later, he was out cold and sleeping deeper and longer than he had in months.

Time and location lost their meaning from that moment on. The medication made everything blurry and insignificant. Dib would find himself in different rooms, without a single clue as to when and how he had gotten there, then, strange people around him, foreign faces leaning over him, pricking him with needles, speaking words that didn't make sense to his buzzing ears, his mouth formed slurry words that his brain didn't register, answering questions he never even remembered having been asked, again and again and again.

Only slowly, his world started to return to focus, the perception of his environment returning tardily as well.

Not that this made things any better.

Once he was back in his right mind enough to remember what dates meant, he found that three weeks had passed without him noticing. When he read that on the calendar in the doctor's office during a – what he only then learned was actually a daily scheduled – therapy interview, he had become so confused and shocked at it, in his still somewhat fuzzy mindstate, that he had freaked out. The next few hours were spent strapped to his small bed until he had calmed again.

Or at least until he pretended not to try and scream and break stuff in panic anymore. Keep it inside, he ordered himself. Don't show them what you really think and feel and want, it will only make them use it to label you insane. More insane, anyway.

He managed it somewhat and brought his only slowly clearing head back to showing some restraint.

That's when the talks started getting exhausting.

Endless talks... About how he felt, about his little fantasy stories, about the little imaginary creatures he had made up to fill the empty void that was social life. About how he needed to see that his delusions were only making his situation worse. About how his real friends needed him. Dib had laughed at that, stating that he had no „real friends" and that he wasn't needed and in return did not need anyone either.

That was a lie, though, he admitted to himself. He didn't not need anyone. He just did not need people that he would have to put on a mask for. There was one, a single one, that took Dib as he was, without masks because that one hated wearing his masks as well.

In an unguarded, unconcentrated moment, it had slipped him. He had told the doctor about how Zim was his friend – were they really friends? He couldn't remember, but it felt like they were – and that there was no need for anyone else.

Bad mouth.

Too quickly, the topic had started to center on Zim. Of course the doctor knew about Zim, the „alien", the strange green foreign kid Dib fought with so often in school. But said boy shut his mouth tightly after his first slip of tongue, unwilling to give away anything else that concerned the alien. Both for the simple reason of trying to avoid making himself sound even more crazy and... in a way.. also to protect the alien. Unlikely as it might be, there WAS a slight possibilty that someone actually would investigate and Zim might get in trouble. Dib didn't want to be the cause of that.

The boy's refusal to talk about Zim at all only spurred the doctor on even more, sensing that this was a sensitive matter and possibly a key problem of his young patient. Like a shark that had tasted a drop of blood in the vast ocean, he now was after the bleeding prey in a frenzy.

Questions were assailing Dib like pinpricks, wearing down his defences quickly. After a week of relentless interrogation, he finally caved in, reluctantly admitting that Zim was his friend, and due to his skin condition they had played pretend, making up stories that Zim was an alien and he was an alien hunter. It wasn't far from the truth but maybe... maybe it would finally placate the doctor enough to change the topic of his questions.

Dib wasn't so lucky.

While he often questioned the man's – and the whole institution's for that matter – professionality, he sadly found out quickly, that he possessed at least enough knowledge of human nature to be able to tell that he was lying.

So his only way out was to stop talking and he went silent.