Bye Bye

04

"I don't drink mouth wash!" John exclaimed as he exited the office door, a lanky older man with a crazy head of white hair followed him out.
"They don't even allow me to own mouth wash!"

The older man who must've been Dr. Bohr shook his head and straightened his suit jacket. "Well you're taking something besides what I gave you, and it's not doing your health any favors,"

John turned away from the doctor and faced the opposite door. Dean glanced away quickly, so that John wouldn't think he was eavesdropping, even though it would be impossible unless you were deaf not to hear them.

"You can tell me what food to eat, what time to go to bed, what movies to watch, but don't try to tell me what to take you fucking old man." John forced laugh and stormed out of the door into a dark hallway.

The doctor sighed, then directed his attention to Dean. "Ah, you must be mister Travis," he walked over to where Dean was sitting and extended his boney hand.

"Uh, yeah,"  Dean stood up from his chair and shook the doctors hand.

"I'm sorry about that scene earlier, John seems to be adamant about ignoring my orders," the doctor chuckled. "Anyways, please step inside my office and we'll have a little chat."

Dean nodded his head and followed the doctor into the office door.

The office was large, half of it looked like a doctors examination room, the other half a therapist's office. The floor was spilt down the middle, one half white tile, the other side soft brown carpet.

There were book shelves with hundreds of different medical related books that lined the walls. The large, glossy wooden desk on the therapist side had a small cactus on it and miniature zen garden. The sound of water flowing came from a fish tank on one of the book shelves and a cinnamon scent came from a small red candle on the desk.

"Take a seat," the doctor pointed to a cushioned chair across from his wooden desk and Dean sat down in it, the doctor at his desk.

"We don't need to talk about anything like why you're here or if you actually did what I've been told you did, but I'm just going to say that one thing we don't tolerate here is self harm of any kind." The doctor leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk.

"Oh, uh, well you don't really have to worry about-" Dean started but the doctor waved him off.

"Anyone who's sent here is bound to have some sort of issue, whether it's drug abuse or family problems," the doctor leaned back and crossed his legs. "While you're here, think of it like a 'treatment'. We'll be monitoring you persistently for the first month or until you show some sort of improvement,"

"Wait a sec, treatment?" Dean exclaimed. He didn't come here for some stupid therapy that he didn't need.

"You'll be given a schedule that will start after this weekend that will include classes, free time and weekly therapy sessions," the doctor ignored Dean's protests and continued. "Would you like to go take a tour of the place now?"

"Hold on a second, I didn't ask for this and don't need any of this either so-" Dean started to panic, he had stupidly thought while he was here he would just live normally until the six months were up, but now it seemed that he was going to have to follow some hellish  schedule for fucked up kids. And he wasn't a fucked up kid.

"Dean," the doctor stood up and walked over to the chair Dean was sitting in. "I know what you're thinking, but this is absolutely necessary for you to have a safe recovery and be able to return to a functioning society."

Dean clenched his teeth and nodded. Unable to say anything, or he'd start screaming or crying or both.

"Well with that elephant out of the room, shall we look at the building and then your dorm?" The doctor helped Dean stand up from his chair and they exited the office together.