3. Headshot and Ribs

Of course she was frustrated. I denied her of what she wanted. So she ran off, like a child. Dare I bring up the point of wanting what we can't have?

Although she is my closest friend, I will not allow myself to be persuaded to do something that I don't feel is right. I want to go and find her. I want to go and apologize. But I can't. And I won't. To be frank, she really pissed me off.

No, I shouldn't say that. She is my best friend. I know I won't be able to stay mad at her. Damn. I can't think straight. I need to let this go. Maybe she left again. She might have gone to Germany or Russia or France. Maybe Chicago or Oregon. Who knows, she could be back in a month or she could be back in a few minutes. She could be killing something or she could be crying. No. Scratch that. Skipper doesn't cry. Who knows?

I don't care.

I don't care..

I. Don't. Care.

But I do care. I don't want to see my best friend upset. What kind of friend would I be?!

But she's the one who made a wrong move! What am I supposed to do, tell her that everything is okay?! No!

My mind fades back to reality and realize my hand is stinging. There's blood on my knuckles. What did I-… my eyes find the wall. There's a concentrated area on the wall with blood on it. My blood. From my hand.

I punched the wall? When did I do that? I don't remember doing that. I didn't even feel anything. Why hadn't I felt anything?! What the hell is wrong with me? My hand hurts. Badly. Surely I couldn't have broken anything. I have to go see Stein about this. He is a doctor, after all. He could tell me what I did. but what might he say? Would he ask me what happened?

Okay, just make a story up. Make one up. Easy.


"I'm not going to ask what happened if that's what you're worried about," said Dr. Stein as he wrapped up my hand. My hand wasn't broken but instead bruised. Badly.

"However, I might be inclined to tell you that should something like this happen again, I will question it. And I will know if you are lying. In other words, try to be careful."

I couldn't face him. He knew something was up. I cleared my throat.

places her "Yes sir."

"Alright, then. Run along. Oh and, you might try and calm down the beast, yes?"

He was talking about Skipper. I didn't speak.


I found Skipper in the forest, playing with some dead squirrels. They were freshly dead and there were two of them. One of them, a light brown, had his ribs sticking out of his body and half of his tail was gone. I wonder what had took a few bites out of him. The other squirrel, almost black, Had two small arrows sticking out of him, one sprouting from his beady, black left eye, and the other coming out of his chest. Poor little guys. I mean there's plenty of squirrels to go around, but seeing them like this is kind of sad, because they are kind of cute.

She hadn't noticed me yet. I take a step forward, my foot killing tons of already dead leaves. Skipper gasps and turns around. Not expecting me, she starts to babble. Then she looked at me. Her face goes bright red and she turns around with a huff. I don't want to apologize. I'm not sorry for what I did. And why should I be? But I know that if I don't things between us won't get any better.

"Hey, Skip."

"What do you want," she replies with attitude.

No. This is stupid. I'm not going to do it. I will not back down. It's not my fault she is being a stubborn child.

"Forget it," and I walked off. But a voice stopped me. A voice that was soft, sweet, and harsh all at the same time.

"Kid, get back here."

Don't do it. Don't turn around. Don't you dare turn around. that is exactly what she wants. Don't give her what she wants. You're not her dog. Don't give in to her.

Oh, shut up.

I turn around. I breathe heavily, almost a sigh. My jaw is set and my eyes are narrowed. I can sense the anger, unwanted, rolling off of me. She can sense it too. Skipper's expression is harsh. Her jaw is set as well. She can sense the anger and she only returns the favor. But she stops as suddenly as she starts. Her expression softens tremendously and her blue eyes stare at the ground.

"Whatever," she pouted.

I look up. Gray clouds. Nice weather. I take a deep breath.

"Come here."

She gives me a dubious look. So I repeat myself, this time a bit louder and more firm.

"Come. Here."

Hesitantly, she stands up and walks over to me. I notice something I hadn't before. She was barefoot. Hmm, strange. Skipper stands in front of me, her eyes level with my neck. She doesn't like listening to me. She doesn't like taking someone else's orders. Especially from someone lower in ranks than her. I wrap my arms around her and pull her in to a hug. She gasp's, not sure what to do but then sighs and places her arms around my neck. I take another deep breath. She smells of mint, like usual. We sit where we stood. My back was against a tree. She continues to cling to me with her face buried in my chest. I know what she's doing. Nothing bad. She's listening to my heart beat. She does that often. I hold her.

Time was lost. The hours were slipping away. The sun was going down. Some of the worst monsters in camp would start roaming soon. Yet I stayed with her. She didn't wake up for sometime. I waited for her. She roused later still and looked up at me. I cocked my head to the side.

"Nice eyes."

She changed back to normal.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

We start to walk back to my cabin. I look back at the squirrels, who are nestled together sleeping in a ball. Best friends, I think to myself quietly with a slight smile.

I think back back to when we were kids, one of the few memories I still have left from that time. It was in California. Some soldiers had just gotten back from the war. They were in awful, awful shape but they were so, so happy. There were two friends, their names I've long forgotten, but they were just happy to be home. One of them had lost one of his arms and the other had lost both his arms. Being the child I was and having the mind I did, that is of a child's, I stupidly asked something along the lines of," How are you going to wear your jackets?"

The two men laughed. Skipper, who had remained silent, said, "Yeah, how will you put them on?"

The soldiers laughed again and one of them said, " Well I supposed we can't but I'm sure there are some good people who can take care of them and grow into them one day. Do you know who might be available for such a difficult task?" Skipper got excited and jumped up and down.

"Oh me! Me, me! Pick me! I can clean the jacket, and when I grow up I'll be big enough to wear it! Oh, please, please, please!"

Both soldiers had the warmest of smiles across their faces. The man that still had and arm held both of their jackets. One dirty, brown aviators jacket and the other, a black aviators jacket.


Matching jackets. I looked at the black leather that clothed Skipper. I have it's twin. A pair of twin jackets. From best friends. To best friends. The best friend club. Me and Skip, the only two who could ever be in it.