A/N: All my info from here I take no credit for; it's from Wikipedia. :D
Wikipedia is the most amazing thing since those really cool huge swirly lollipops you get at candy stores!
-cough- Uh…forget I said that…
"I've decided I'll try Biotech," I told my mom the next morning.
"Okay," my mom said, "Your appointment's in an hour."
My eyebrows shot up. "You already made an appointment?' I asked skeptically.
"Yes. Fang said you would eventually end up going, so I already made the appointment."
I glanced at Fang, who pretended he didn't see me. I rolled my eyes.
"I'm going on one condition," I started.
Iggy rolled his eyes. "There's always a condition," He muttered. I aimed a very powerful kick at him, but accidently hit Fang instead, who swore under his breath and shot me a WTH look. I winced apologetically, leaving Iggy unpunished for his actions.
"Anyway," I continued, "I'm only going if the flock comes, but you and Ella stay here. I don't want you to get hurt if this is a trap."
"Max, I told you I--"
"Looked into it," I finished, "yeah, I know. Still, I'd feel better if I knew you were at home, safe."
Mom sighed. "Okay."
"Do the doctors there know…?" Nudge said vaguely, trailing off.
"That you have wings? No, I don't think so. I didn't tell them." My mom said.
"Let's keep them unaware to our…er, slight difference…as long as possible, alright?" I said.
The flock nodded.
"The doctor is ready for you now," The secretary said. We all stood up.
The question is, are we ready for him? I thought bitterly.
We walked into a doctors office, and I swear to God, if a pin dropped, the whole flock would probably jump about six feet in the air, bust out the window, and fly as far away form this sad, sad excuse for a laboratory (like, hello, there's not a dog crate in sight! How mediocre.), as we possibly could.
The doctor entered. I nudged Fang and leaned closer to him.
"That doctor's not a hallucination, right?" I asked, only half-joking.
Fang smirked and shook his head slightly.
"Hello…Max, is it?" The doctor asked.
"Last time I checked, yes. But yesterday my name was Susan." I deadpanned.
The doctor seemed like he wasn't sure if I was joking or not. "I'm, Doctor Maxwell Hartley."
Huh. A person in a white coat that shares a name with me.
That's cute.
The amount of sarcasm I just used could probably be used as a torture weapon somewhere in the world.
I heard Iggy snicker quietly, also noticing the name analogous.
Dr. Hartley ignored Iggy and looked down at his keyboard. "Tell me, Max, have you ever heard Voices in your head that weren't yours?"
The whole flock tensed. Keeping my face impassive, and looking straight into his eyes, I said, "No. Just the hallucinations, sir. I also have chronic hiccupping, but that could've just been the three cans of soda I had before I came here."
The doctor tried to ignore this, but I could tell he was getting annoyed.
"You've been having hallucinations?"
I nodded, then leaned in and whispered, "I see dead people."
Dr. Hartley did a wonderful impression of a tomato as his face reddened in anger. He hastily stood up, gathered his papers, mumbled crossly for us to wait here, and left the room.
Fang turned to me, his eyebrows raised. "'You see dead people'?"
I pressed my lips together and struggled to keep a straight face.
What seemed like hours later, another, female, doctor came in with a grave look on her face. "I believe we've discovered your problem, Max."
"You mean besides my problems at cooking?" I said brightly.
The doctor disregarded this. "You have Schizophrenia, Max."
I sucked in a breath loudly. "You mean…but…I have a disorder?" I sputtered.
The doctor nodded. "Schizophrenia is characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality." She went on. I was only half listening. I was still trying to get over the fact that I had a disorder. A real problem with my brain. How could I be a leader with something like this? "There are five different subtypes of schizophrenia. You seem to have the Paranoid type of schizophrenia."
She had said 'Schizophrenia' enough for my liking. Fang took my hand, which fortunately managed to snap me out of tunnel vision.
"Are you sure that's what I have?" I croaked.
"No laboratory test for schizophrenia currently exists, but it's very, very likely, yes." She smiled so apologetically I almost actually fell for her little 'sympathetic' act.
"No! It can't be 'very, very likely', because I'm not a schizophrenic! You're out of your mind, lady."
She smiled, but there was nothing happy about it. "No, apparently, you're the one out of your mind."
I leaped up from my seat, angry beyond words.
"You'll have to stay here for a few days."
"Why?" I demanded angrily.
"Because you're dangerous."
"You keep talking to me like this, and I'll show you how dangerous I can be!" I spat.
"People with schizophrenia are dangerous because when having a hallucination, since they can't tell what's real and what's not, they could kill someone or themselves. Either that, or they commit suicide."
I glared at her. "I'll go as long as during that time you try—no, scratch that, you do—cure me. If I leave here, and I still have this problem, I am going to kick your ass."
She smiled. "Of course. We have a room for you already."
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