Flippy never really understood doctors. There was just something about them he couldn't put his finger on. It had developed from a misunderstanding and transformed into an absolute hate when he had returned from Afghanistan. As a kid, doctors just made him uneasy, always in their white coats and holding clipboards with lots of words and scribbles on them. Now as an adult, he wanted nothing more than to make those white coats saturate with red and to snap those stupid clipboards in half. Even now, as he sat on the cold, doctors table, he was holding himself back.

"How have you been, mister Flippy?" The doctor asked casually. They always asked generic things like that, and Flippy always gave them to same answer. "Fine."

The doctor did the usual, understanding nod, pulling the stethoscope away from around his neck and putting the ear buds in. He placed his hands on Flippy's chest, putting the cold head right above his heart. Flippy wasn't sure which was colder; this man's hand or the sterilized, icy circle pressed into his skin.

"Deep breath," the man instructed. Flippy begrudgingly complied, biting back his annoyance as the cold plate moved from place to place, each time giving him chills. He wondered what was so important about this whole process. He was breathing just fine, couldn't he see that? He had never had a problem with it and was pretty sure he never would, so why all the concern? As the doctor leaned forward to examine his rib cage, Flippy eyed the part of his neck exposed from his coat. His pupils immediately dilated as he eyed the jugular, watching the thick, pulsating vein rise and fall. He felt his heart rate quicken with the urge to bite down on his flesh and tear it to shreds with his fangs. It was like the doctor could hear his thoughts and feel the menace radiating from him, because he promptly pulled away, wrapping the stethoscope back around his neck a little too securely. Flippy didn't say anything, just leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms expectantly. The doctor looked at him, blinking slowly, and he raised an eyebrow in an attempt of intimidation. He nervously smiled, then picked up his clipboard and moved towards the door.

"How was it?" Splendid asked with a smile, easing onto the highway and accelerating slowly. He flicked his eyes over to Flippy, which meant he required an answer.

"Fantastic," Flippy scoffed, not feeling the need to ease back on the sarcasm.

Splendid nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

Splendid had picked him up from the hospital, per usual, insisting he be the one to calm Flippy down and not an innocent bystander. Not that Flippy minded too much; Splendid had a pretty nice car and usually let him talk him into buying him some food. Splendid was probably the closest thing to a friend Flippy had, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"You know, your doctor came out and talked to me."

"Yeah?" Flippy tried to convey interest.

"Yep, came out to the car. And I was parked pretty far away. Told me I should convince you to take some therapy."

"And?"

"I told him what to do."

"Which is?"

"To talk to you instead of me."

Flippy hid back a proud smile. "Then?"

"He gave me a look like he was wondering if I was serious or not."

Flippy gave a dry laugh, feeling smug, and Splendid chuckled slightly before clearing his throat and said, "He told me you really need it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm, said it would help you work out some…," he raised his index fingers off the wheel and moved them up and down, "…'issues'."

"Is that right."

"Yup. Even offered to help find one for you. Gave me a list, actually."

Splendid reached into the glove box, pulling out a folded piece of copy paper stapled together. He handed it to Flippy without moving his eyes from the road.

Flippy opened it, finding that there were actually 3 pages, all filled with names and numbers to call in bold, black ink, evenly spaced, very professional. He skimmed down all the names, sometimes nodding, sometimes making a "Hmm" or an "Ah". Splendid was quiet, focusing on the road and keeping a steely grip on the wheel. After he'd skimmed through all the names he set the paper down, extending his arms and raising his chin with a smirk.

"Well this is just lovely," he mused, folding the paper again. "He even wrote a note at the bottom saying he could get us a couple weeks for free."

Splendid didn't say anything.

They sat in silence once again; the only sounds the hum of the car and the hiss of the air conditioner fanning their faces. The sky was slowly fading into gray as the sun began to set, sending shades of pink and orange out in a corona. Flippy's apartment was on the outer limits of the city, far from the main attractions and bustling people. He watched the buildings and houses fade into nothing but sparse fields and wooded expansions, dark, skinny trees blotting the horizon and hiding the setting sun. A deep blue was forming like a blanket over the tops of the trees; it had gotten late much quicker than he expected.

When they turned onto his street, Splendid cleared his throat, turning off the air conditioner and slowing down. The car screeched to a halt in front of the driveway, the head lights illuminating the garage doors with two bright circles. Splendid put the car into park, then looked at Flippy, eyes serious.

Flippy looked at his hands, closing his eyes and taking a breath before looking back, hiding the scowl he'd worn all day.

"You're not going to look at that list again, are you?"

Flippy replied with the closest thing to honesty without sarcasm he could muster, "You know the answer."

"You won't take any advice, even if it will help you in the end."

"I don't need help."

"Everyone needs help."

"There are some things you can't fix."

Splendid's eyes flashed with something like sympathy for him for a split second, but Flippy wasn't sure as he quickly turned away, pressing the unlock button and replacing his hands on the wheel. Without another word he got out, slamming the door and going to the door as Splendid pulled away.

Flippy awoke in the middle of the night, sitting upright in bed, breathing heavily with sweat coating his skin. The TV he had forgotten to turn off flashed light on the room, casting shadows on his hands, shaking in his lap like two live wires. He felt his blood sludging under his skin, like water under ice, pumping like a drum in his chest. Everything was in hyper speed, spinning around him, and when he was awoken he felt as if he had just been chewed up and spitted out, landing face first into a cold, harsh reality. The stillness of the room begged his nerves to ease away, to let the silence comfort him and to stop the electricity burning in his body. It had been another nightmare, a bad one.

Images flashed in front of his eyes, assaulting his head with the things his dreams captivated him in. It was always the same thing; a field underneath a scarlet sky, bodies black as shadows and moving fast as light. He was standing in the middle of it all, on his knees, unable to move as gun shots exploded around him, black figure by figure falling and collapsing around him. A grenade and then blood splattered onto his face, running down his chin and dripping onto his chest. Two more shots and two more comrades lay still in front of him. He kept his eyes to the sky, looking anywhere but the ground, where the dead took on faces of the living and replayed scenes in his memory. He was frozen in place, then the ear splitting sounds of choppers overhead triggered his body into motion again. Once he was on his feet, it was all over. He was unstoppable. He watched himself tear through enemy after enemy, each taking on the faces of everyone he had ever killed. When it got to this part, he would be able to recognize he was dreaming. Yet if it got to this point, it meant he would have to see it, waking up excruciatingly out of reach. He would stop once everything was still around him, no more sounds, no more moving, just bodies piled and strewn all across the dirt. He was breathing heavily, sweat, dirt, and blood caked on his hands and arms. Then the sound of someone running, and he would turn and look only to be tackled to the ground. The assailant had the face of his most trusted friend, who he had just days before seen die in his arms, smiling with grim determination as he wrapped his hands around Flippy's neck. The image of those bloodthirsty eyes would keep him helpless on the ground, gasping for breath, trying to break free, and then it all coming to end when he would snap his head to the side. Then Flippy would wake up, breathless, heart racing. Like now, just like every night.

He sat like this for what seemed like hours, just staring at his hands and moving his fingers one by one. Only when he was down to normal palpitations and could no longer feel his heartbeat in his ears did he move to cover his face in his hands. Even in times like this, when he would awake engulfed in fear and on the brink of insanity, he refused to believe he needed any form of help. It was one thing to fix something that was broken, but another to try and fix something so completely destroyed there was no going back.

The next day, Flippy was out walking around the town, for once just taking the time to breathe. The past night's shock was still leaving his body, and he wanted to get out of his house and into a place so far away from his memories he would forget they even existed. He thought about calling Splendid, but decided against it when he remembered the events following his doctor appointment. He was 99.9% sure Splendid was less that amused at his complete disregard to the doctor's advice, but even now he wanted nothing more than to go back and punch that doctor right in his smug face. He made things hard for Splendid, thereby making his only chance at a stable, normal friend fall into the fatherly figure category. There was no escaping the inevitable, he mused silently to himself, walking the perimeter of the park where Pop and Cub played on the swings and Handy was fixing a leak in the local swimming pool. He didn't make eye contact, keeping his eyes down as he passed. No matter how long he lived in this town, he didn't have the ability inside him to even attempt social activity with the community. The only people allowed in his circle were Splendid and sometimes Lumpy, having gone to the same highschool together. He passed by Giggles and Cuddles, talking happily at an outdoor café. Giggles was talking about how she had met another guy, Cuddles excited and gushing over the possibility of new romance to be apart of. He heard it all as he passed by without saying a word, the breeze carrying a soft whistle through the trees and through his hair.

He thought back to the time before he was drafted, when he had actually led on a normal life and carried on like a normal human being. Not the estranged, killing machine he was now and would probably remain. He didn't have a girlfriend, or anything resembling a romantic relationship that was considered serious before he left. He had always been without luck with girls, much too reserved to make a move and always being dragged around by the tails of Splendid and some of the other guys. He wasn't bad looking, quite rugged and handsome actually, with a soft face and lean body. He just didn't feel anything. For anyone really. Companionship was something foreign to him, absent in his life even as a young child. It wasn't hard to imagine why he'd never made anything worth keeping with someone. Other than a shaky friendship with Splendid, he was alone.

Not that he minded, he realized as he continued to ponder. Trust was wasted effort, hope something that could be shattered in seconds. It was best to live in an eternal state of indifference, partly cynical and a little disconnected. It was better than the alternative, where nothing was for sure, where nothing was safe and he would always-

His thoughts were cut short when he felt someone collide into his chest and was thrown backwards, the wind leaving his lungs as he fell to the ground. He raised his head to spit an insult about how the person should watch where they were going but stopped when he saw who was in front of him. She was short and curvy, pale skin and thin wrists, soft auburn eyes on a face surrounded by a massive heap of curly red hair. She was shaking, and he noticed white flakes drifting down amongst the strands. She looked up at him, eyes wide and a clear look of horror playing on her features. She locked eyes with him, and they sat motionless for a moment, each scrambling for words but coming up blank.

She suddenly sprang up, arms thrown out wide and shoulders heaving.

"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I'M SO SORRY," she cried, gripping her head, causing another avalanche of white flakes to drift down. "I DIDN'T WATCH WHERE I WAS GOING AND I DROPPED MY PHONE AND IT SLID ON THE GROUND AND I DIDN'T LOOK UP AND-"

Whatever feelings of menace Flippy had been feeling immediately shut down as he watched the girl squirm in front of him. She was off on a tangent, waving her hands around and jumping on her heels. He flinched when she suddenly stopped, bowing her head and announcing, "I'M SORRY!" and ran away in the other direction. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure, and to notice the cell phone at his feet.