Minecraft Story Mode: Gods Don't Die

Chapter 17: Hope

A few hours after what many would later call "The Night of Blood," Alex soon found herself in a hospital in Beacontown, sitting upright in a soft white bed. After Jeb and Herobrine left, Alex was quickly recovered by authorities and given lots of medical attention. She was now dressed in a white hospital gown, her old clothes having been torn off by Jeb. The massive holograms that Herobrine had put up all over the world had vanished a few minutes after the whole ordeal. Thanks to many healing potions, golden apples, and the best medical attention that money could buy, Alex was able to come out of it without any injuries. Any physical injuries, that is. She stared off into space, her pupils shrunken down into pinpricks, her face completely blank and expressionless, tightly gripping the edge of her blanket. Three other people were in the room with her: Stella, Isa, and a doctor in a white coat with square shaped glasses.

That doctor was none other than Edgar, Radar's father, and the former lawyer who fought against Sebastian Smith in court for Ellegaard, as well as the man who traveled to Boom Town with Nancy to rescue a certain group of orphans. It turned out that after Radar ran away from home, Edgar went back to night school and got a degree in health and psychology. He became a very successful doctor and moved into an apartment in a different city. After seeing the awful, AWFUL event that transpired on those holograms, he immediately traveled all the way to Beacontown to heal Alex. But while he was skilled at healing physical injuries, mental ones were an entirely different beast to tackle altogether. After some tests such as shining a light in her eyes and snapping his fingers in front of her face, Edgar sighed and wrote some things down on a clipboard. He didn't like what he saw. "Doctor, please be honest," said Isa, wringing her hands with worry. "How is she? She's going to be fine, right?"

Edgar sighed heavily. "Well, she's completely fine physically, which is a miracle in and of itself," he said. "It took some of the most advanced healing potions ever brewed, but physically, she'll be fine." Isa sighed with relief, but Stella immediately knew what the catch was. "You said she was fine physically," she said. "What about mentally?" "That...is an entirely different story, Miss Smith," Edgar sighed. "Alex has just gone through so much trauma in such a short amount of time that it was a wonder that she was able to hold on as long as she did without going mad. I don't think I need to explain why, assuming that you've both watched one of those gigantic holograms that this Herobrine fellow set up all over the world." Both Isa and Stella looked down in pure grief and disgust at the memory, feebly supporting each other so that they didn't fall to their knees. "I don't want to reopen these wounds either," Edgar said regretfully, "but you have to understand, she just saw numerous people die right in front of her. She was just used as a human flail to kill off the population of an entire city, something that I never thought I would ever say in my lifetime. She was just RAPED. By her own FATHER. If the goal of these so-called 'gods' was to 'break' Alex, then they have not only succeeded, but went above and beyond." "W-what does that mean for Alex?," asked Isa, scared to hear his answer.

"After doing some tests on her, she seems unable to respond to any outside stimuli," Edgar explained. "She doesn't respond to anybody, she can't seem to feel any physical pain anymore, and her pupils didn't even contract when I shined a light at them. Ma'am, I'm afraid that your daughter is now suffering from PMPD, or...Permanent Mind Prison Disorder."

"Permanent Mind...what?," asked Stella, bewildered by what she just heard. "Is...is this a joke?" Neither she nor Isa had ever heard of such a disorder. PTSD, sure, but not...this. "It's not a joke," said Edgar, shaking his head sadly. "Far from it. I'm not surprised that the two of you have never heard of PMPD before. It's a very rare disorder. In fact, many doctors doubt that it even exists. But I assure you, it's a very real disorder, and a terrible one at that. There are only six documented cases of PMPD in the history of the world, with the last one having been written a hundred years ago." "But what IS it?," asked Isa anxiously. "What does it MEAN?"