Replies:

1st Guest: Thanks! Glad you like it!

Jay: I'm glad to hear that! Agreed, this is unfortunately a sad story, indeed. Thanks for the review!

2nd Guest: Indeed, indeed. That is one good factor. It's very unfortunate that vets weren't able to get help back then. Thanks for the review!

The years went by, and as Dick had predicted, things only escalated. His condition worsened nearly every day it seemed like. He'd jump at the smallest of sounds, brandishing whatever was closet to him as a weapon: the gun, a knife from the kitchen, even the cigarettes he had started smoking or the beer bottles he always kept on hand.

Dick's appearance showed just how far gone he really was. His face was disgruntled, misshapen, like a block of clay someone had smashed to hell. Dick's eyes slowly began to loose the life they had once held in them. There wasn't a hint of the old gleam Allison used to see, no sign of love or passion at all. Dick wouldn't bathe unless Allison physically forced him up to the wash room, which was very difficult for a woman with such a small frame. So, half the time he sat in his own filth. He didn't change clothes, he didn't eat, and he didn't even come up to bed with her a night. It pained her to see, but she knew this wasn't her husband. He was long gone.

On half way decent days, he didn't move at all. He just sat in his old, battered chair at the center of the living (if one could call any of this living) room, staring off into space with a beer and a cigarette and muttered nonsense. Sometimes the nonsense was war related other times it was utterly random garbage, like a talking gorilla controlling people with its mind. (Allison worried that her husband had truly lost his mind.)

On the really bad days, (which happened more often than not) when the terrifying flash backs and craziness became too overwhelming, Dick would lash out, violently attacking his family. Allison always tried to calm him with Captain and Tennille, but as the years dragged on and on the musical numbers effect seemed to be less and less. It would seem that nothing could save him now, and Allison grew weary of trying.

Then, there was Mick. By the time he was thirteen, he knew how to take a proper hit, and he was no longer a stranger to the agony of broken bones. Dick usually went after him when his terrors took over. Allison wasn't sure why. Perhaps his mind made him believe his son was an enemy solider or perhaps it was Mick's rebellious tendencies. The boy's attitude had become quite bitter, and he was very stubborn even on a good day. If he didn't want to do something, like eat what was set out for dinner or stop playing with the rats that had started gathering in the barn, he wouldn't. It was very frustrating and exhausting.

Then, there was the fact that he had taken to stealing his father's lighter from time to time. Allison wasn't sure what he found so fascinating about it, (he was practically obsessed with staring into the flames it produced) but when the neighbors started complaining that Mick was setting their hay barrels on fire she knew it would be a problem.

She reckoned he did it for attention. Allison's hands were always tied, trying to take care of Dick. She didn't really have time to spend with her son anymore, and he, perhaps, was starving for some motherly love. But still. Setting fires was not the proper way to get attention. So, Allison hid the lighter as best she could to keep it from Mick… But it was no use. He always found it. And when he couldn't he found something else, a match usually. (Allison wasn't sure where he found those, though.)

Allison had taken to home schooling him, because no school in the city would have him anymore. Partly because he kept bringing matches to school, partly because he wouldn't sit still and wouldn't listen to the teachers. (The principal had even exclaimed, "This boy is worse than a toddler!") Mick didn't seem to care. He was completely apathetic about everything, as though acting out was some sort of game to him, and it made Allison want to pull her hair out.

Still, he was her son, and she loved him. She did her best to remain calm, balancing Dick's rage and Mick's stubbornness. But it was all too much. She just needed a break. An escape…

She knew there was a job opening at a coffee shop in the city. (She'd read about it in the paper some time ago.) Perhaps, that would do. It wouldn't be long, just a few hours a day to take her mind off her husband's decaying brain and her son's incessant needs. Besides, they didn't have much time to tend to the farm anymore, and they were losing money. They'd have to pay their bills somehow, wouldn't they?

So, Allison set up an interview for that Friday. Throughout the week, she scurried around the house, making sure everything was nice and proper. Floors were swept, kitchen was cleaned, beds were made. She even did some gardening outside. By the time the end of the week rolled around, she was thoroughly excited for the interview. Though, as she was leaving the house there was a small problem...

Allison moved towards the door, only to stop when she felt a tug on her arm. She glanced back to see her son, clutching her arm as though his life depended on it.

"Do you have to go?" he asked.

"Mick, we talked about this," she said quietly. "You're thirteen now. You don't need your mother around the house twenty-four seven. You can take care of yourself."

"But I don't understand why I can't go too!" Mick whined childishly. "Why do I have to stay alone with..." He trailed off. He didn't want to say anything about his dad, worried it might offend her somehow. For whatever reason she'd always been extremely protective of him, even after he'd started hitting Mick. But she knew, from the nervous glance he sent behind him, to where Dick sat limply in his chair, what he meant.

"He's your father," she said, trying to ignore the heavy weight that settled upon her heart. She knew what Dick did and here she was acting as though it didn't matter…She just wanted this job. She needed this job. That didn't mean her son's troubles didn't matter.

Mick didn't say anything. He just looked back at her, eyes pleading. His hands were trembling, as he held on to her in a desperate attempt to make her stay. Allison felt that heavy weight on her heart begin crushing her lungs. How could she leave her son when he was like this? But, of course, she couldn't take him into the city with her.

She needed to go immediately to the office for the interview, and - as much as she loved Mick - she worried he might make her look bad. His obsession with fire often caused people to misjudge their family, making them think they were freaks. And she really needed this job. She couldn't afford people thinking ill of her. For a second she almost caved, almost canceled the interview. But then she reminded herself that the job would be good for all of them in the long run.

"It can't be that bad to spend a little time alone with your father, can it?" she tried again. Though, it was really just a lame attempt at easing her own conscience. She knew Dick sometimes did horrible things to their son when his mind was stuck in the past. And that, in all honestly, was probably the reason Mick was so afraid of being home alone with him. "If you really don't want to stay in the house, why don't you go out and do some work around the farm, hm?" Allison gently wrenched his hands off her. "Now, I've got to go or I'll be late."

She turned again, and she was surprised when Mick didn't protest anymore. Allison sighed in relief, as she climbed into the car and backed down the drive.

Heeyy! I'm not sure how long it's been since I've updated. It feels like forever... But you know better late than never right? Same old excuses... Haha I feel like I should make that my catch phrase at this point. Anyways, enjoy!