Chapter 23: Going to

the Gotham City Hospital, Psychiatry Department.

Jack sat in the waiting area outside, wearing a hat, a mask, and a black sweatshirt.

The number in his hand was wrinkled from being crumpled.

He didn't want to come.

First, it was a chaotic nightmare, and then he began to see non-existent people in the mirror. It was getting worse. When he woke up this morning, he even heard some crazy, neurotic laughter.

He began to suspect that there was something wrong with his brain.

He didn't dare tell anyone. Bruce's amnesia had already brought their relationship to a freezing point. If he had problems now - God, who would want to start over with a madman?

Sadness surged in his heart.

He held the number in his hand and looked at it over and over again.

"Jack Napier?"

He stood up.

The nurse called his name. He pushed open the door to the neurology department. Behind the door sat a male doctor, wearing a white coat, a medical mask, short hair, and a pair of glasses.

From the top of his lush head, he could see that he was a young doctor.

"Please sit down."

Jack walked in, closed the door, and sat on the chair.

There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the clinic. The doctor glanced at him and said calmly: "You can take off your mask. I won't disclose the patient's privacy."

"Of course, sorry... I just forgot."

Jack smiled awkwardly and took off his mask.

The doctor lowered his head and looked through the documents and asked: "What's the problem recently?"

"I have some messed up nightmares recently. I feel very tired after waking up. Sometimes people I saw in my dreams appear in the mirror..." Jack rubbed his thumb unconsciously, looking very uneasy, "After I got up this morning, I heard weird laughter in my ears."

"Do you remember the content of the dream?"

"I don't remember it very clearly... I only remember the theater, a lot of audiences, and a weirdo who looks like me."

The doctor nodded slightly and wrote it down in the notebook.

"I know you, Mr. Napier. I've seen your plays. The day before yesterday, you were held hostage by the Mad Hatter in the theater, and it was even on the news..."

He recalled the report and repeated the headline: "Billionaire Bruce Wayne punches for his boyfriend! A heroic rescue scene occurs at the Gotham Theater—"

Jack smiled awkwardly.

"The media likes to exaggerate," the doctor pushed his glasses, "but the reports have a certain degree of truth. Considering your recent experiences, your dreams, auditory and visual hallucinations may be manifestations of acute stress, a bit like the early symptoms of perceptual impairment."

He took a sip of water and continued his analysis:

"Such symptoms are common after emotional trauma. For example, the person in the mirror and the laughter you heard may be the brain's misinterpretation of external stimuli in a state of anxiety."

Jack subconsciously tapped his fingers on the table: "So I'm just... too anxious?"

"Anxiety may be a factor." The doctor wrote a few words and added, "After all, you experienced an event that may have triggered traumatic memories."

He then asked: "Have there been any changes in your life recently?"

"The crew is on vacation for a while, and I moved in with my boyfriend."

"How is your diet? "

I think... it can be called very rich."

The doctor nodded.

"At present, it seems that this is a common stress-induced mood disorder, which may be accompanied by mild perceptual confusion. It is not serious, and as long as timely intervention is given, it will not affect your life."

As he said, he stood up and took out a box of medicine from the medicine cabinet next to him, then wrote out a prescription, signed it, and handed it to Jack.

"I suggest you try quetiapine, take it before bedtime, one tablet a day. It can help suppress nervous excitement, and the side effects are not significant. You may be a little sleepy in the first few days."

Jack's tense nerves relaxed. He took the medicine and the prescription, feeling relieved.

"Okay."

"Turn right when you go out, get the prescription, and then pay the consultation fee. "

Jack nodded, put his things away, and stood up.

"Thank you, doctor."

"If you need a follow-up visit, you can make an appointment in advance. My name is Cary Brown. "

Jack nodded, said "OK," and turned to leave.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

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The room fell silent.

The young doctor stood up, walked to the side of the office, lowered his head, and dragged the man hiding in the cabinet out.

He helped the man sit in the chair, straightened his posture, and adjusted the collar of his white coat.