Another chapter down, a lot more to go. Again, I thank Ladyawesome45321 for helping me edit this thing. Big help.

Four months seemed to go by slowly. Every day, Richard seemed to be getting worse and worse. He was fortunate enough to not be harassed by others mainly because he kept his scars covered, but he remembered the letters that his army buddies had sent them because they went home before he did. Richard was drinking more often trying to get rid of the nightmares and daymares that were a constant plague to him. HIs son and wife seemed foreign to him. He'd often sleep in the front room on the couch. He was terrified that he would hurt them in his sleep.

One day, Richard was watching the news, he had no idea why he had stopped on that channel, but he did. The station featured a news anchor talking about the Vietnam protests that were still going on. There were several empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

"Protestors are calling American soldiers disgusting and baby killers. They have no moral compass."
Richard felt his blood boil. He felt his cheeks get hot. He threw a bottle at the tv and jumped to his feet.

"That's a lie!" he shouted his voice slurring, at the tv.

He continued to watch as footage of the war was played. Richard winced and went over and turned off the tv. It was too late, though. He sat on the ground putting his hands over his head as he started hearing the loud bombs.

Fighter planes flew overhead dropping napalm. Loud explosions could be heard in his head with gunfire. In his mind, he heard one of his buddies yelling in pure agony as his leg got shot. His leg was draining blood.

In reality, Richard was still covering his head with his hands. He vaguely heard his wife come into the room. When he finally looked up, he saw that her eyes were wide with half fear and half concern as she held a crying Mick in her arms. Richard slowly blinked as he started coming out of the flashback that he was having.

"What...what happened?" he asked.

Charlotte hesitated for what seemed like a solid minute before she answered.

"You were screaming," she said. "You were screaming loudly."
Richard frowned and reached out his arms. He wanted to comfort his son. He saw Charlotte hesitate before she handed him over. Richard held his son close to him rubbing his back.

"Hey, it's okay, daddy's sorry," he mumbled to him as he held him close to his chest, eventually soothing the tiny baby who by now had quit crying and was just being silent in his arms, occasionally sniffing.

A couple of weeks passed since Richard went through that flashback. He seemed to be doing better, even if he did not feel that way. He put up a good front for Charlotte and Mick. One day it occurred to him, he needed to get Mick set up with a fund for college. Maybe he would go to college maybe not, but in case he wanted to...One day, Richard got dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. It was too hot to wear a long sleeve shirt or jacket and that would quickly become an annoyance to him and make him angry. He walked out to get into his car to see a random woman on the street staring at him, his scars mainly. He glared at her.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" he said.

The woman turned away and started walking faster. Richard rolled his eyes letting out a heavy sigh in frustration. Seriously? He got into the car, started it up, and backed his way out of the driveway on his way to the bank.

When he had gotten there and gotten out, again, everyone was staring at him. Richard forced himself to take a breath. They weren't attacking him. Leave it be. He got to the front of the counter.

"Good morning, how may I help you?" a woman behind the counter asked.

"Morning, ma'am. My name's Richard Rory. I was wondering if I could set up a college fund for my son," Richard asked.

Richard watched for her reaction as she looked up and got a good look at him. She frowned but nodded. "Yes sir," she said. "Follow me, we can get that setup.

Richard nodded and followed her as she got out from behind the counter. As they were talking and she was setting up the account, Richard noticed that Susan, he saw on the plaque of her desk kept staring at him. He sighed and finally gave in.

"What?" Richard asked.

"Did you serve in Vietnam?"
"I'm sure you already know the answer to that question," Richard sneered.

Richard glared when Susan literally threw the chequebook at him.

"I'm sorry, I can't serve you, please leave sir."
Richard shot up and shoved the chair. He turned and stormed out not saying another word to her.

When Richard got home, he ignored Charlotte and their son straight to his bedroom and took a shoebox out from the back of the closet. He opened it up and took out the pile of crumpled pieces of paper, letters that his buddies sent him.

It's terrible back here, everyone's treating me and the rest of us like dirt. They spit at us and call us vile and murderers. If I get shoved one more time, I might go to jail for killing them.

Richard huffed as he continued to read the other letters that his buddies had sent him, all of them more or less saying the same thing.

The VA is no help at all. Nobody knows what really happened. Richard put the letters back in the shoe box and put the shoe box back in the back of the closet. After that, he stormed downstairs to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and downed another beer. Minutes later, he passed out on the kitchen floor.