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Winter came early, and unseasonal snow fell on Halloween. The aberration reminded Nathan that nothing was certain. Dr. Thrace sat across from him in a wicker chair. The couch had too many pillows. It was impossible to get comfortable on it. The fabric felt dirty somehow. It smelled fine and there was no discoloration, but something about the texture put Nathan on edge. The leaf-shaped ceiling blades spun just slowly enough to circulate the heat. Snow continued to fall outside the window.

The therapist at the VA hospital was a small, wiry man who wore round spectacles. His hair was thinning in the front and the back had grown out too long for his haircut. He looked like a devil with his black facial hair. He had Rasputin's soul-piercing eyes.

Nathan had rescheduled three times before and he felt ashamed of that, but the doctor didn't give him any grief over it.

"Are you going out tonight for Halloween?" asked Thrace.

Nathan shook his head. He had been invited to a few parties, but the idea of walking into a house party filled with laughing corpses and mutilated bodies was the last thing he wanted, especially now that his nightmares were at their worst.

Nathan described the nightmares to Dr. Thrace. He had one every single night without fail, often revisiting scenes from his time in the Helmand Province, but not always. In fact it was the dreams about home that were the most disturbing, like the where he shot Tom in the back of the head execution style.

"Are there tensions between you and your friend?" the doctor asked.

"No. I mean, maybe. He's been busy lately, so we haven't talked."

"What's that about?"

"I don't know." Nathan thought about what had happened with Alex when that pellet of red paint hit her, but he couldn't tell Thrace about what he did to the kid.

"There was this day..." Nathan began slowly, preparing his words with care. "I took Alex into the woods to show her where Tom and I used to play. We had a run in with some kids playing paintball and I kind of lost touch with where I was, started hearing gunshots that weren't there."

Dr. Thrace looked very concerned.

"I freaked out," Nathan said.

"This kind of break from reality is concerning. We should try a different medication. You are taking your meds, right?"

"Yeah."

"You need to tell me if you're not."

"I know. I take them. I've seen what happens to my mom when she doesn't take hers." The truth was there had been a lapse in his taking his medication. After the day in the woods, he stopped cold turkey. The withdrawal had made him irritable and caused zaps of pain in his head for days, so he went back on them real quick. That was when he saw Lacey and really lost it, thinking about knights of the round table and shit. He leveled out soon after. No need to mention any of this. If Thrace was concerned about the woods, he would take action if he knew about Nathan pulling a gun on someone.

"Was your mother's depression an issue for you growing up?" the doctor asked.

"Maybe once or twice when I was younger. She was a great mom, don't get me wrong. She read me stories all the time, even when she was sad. When she couldn't be there for me, I had Tom. Right across the street."

"Support is crucial. You are always welcome sit in during our PTSD group meeting."

Nathan leaned back into the couch and stared at the ceiling fan. He didn't like group therapy, seeing men who were so far gone, crying over the selfies they took next to dead children or the camels they gunned to pieces. Nathan shook his head. "No. I know what I have to do."

"What's that?"

"I have to save Alex."

"Save her from what?"

"She's the light that keeps me from sinking into darkness. My nightmares will swallow me up if I lose her." Nathan closed his eyes.

"Last time we met, you told me she stole medication from you. This is a person who needs professional help. She might not be ready to ask for help. You can't force her. And you need to focus on getting better yourself before you go trying to save others."

"But saving others is the only thing that makes me feel like I'm worth anything." He had to be careful how deep he went, how much he divulged. He couldn't tell Thrace about the really crazy shit, like the low rumbles that came from the streets at night or the glimpses of clawed beasts lurking in periphery shadows. He made sure not to mention that he was sleeping in the basement now, that his house was haunted by the ghost of Private Steiner or that he kept a stock pile of guns behind his bed and his Glock under his pillow. The Night Man wanted to feast on Alex's blood. Only he could save her.

Thrace was talking, but his words blurred together as Nathan sank deeper into his thoughts. Something about "taking on Alex's problems" and "losing touch with reality." Doctor Thrace didn't serve Nathan. He served public safety. He was afraid. Nathan recognized fear easily. It quivered out of the doctor's little black eyes. Thrace was thinking, this guy's gonna crack any day now. Nathan knew he wouldn't crack. Cracking was a luxury. Marines don't crack. Even marines who committed suicide knew exactly what they were doing. They knew they couldn't keep the darkness from leaking out. They had to kill the final monster in the dungeon, the shadow that followed them back from the war. 

___________

Music: Muse "Ruled by Secrecy"

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