Chapter 1

I am going to start this story off by telling you a little about me. My name is Robert Blake, Bobby, to my friends. Which by the way I have very few. I just finished 5 years in the Marine Corps. Three combat tours as an infantry-man. You read that right, five years and three of them spent dodging bullets. Hard to believe I came home without a scratch, not even a skinned knee. Bullet-proof is what they called me. Well maybe I was physically but mentally that’s a different story. I was diagnosed with anger issues caused by PTSD.

That is the reason I am living with my grandmother out on the farm. Just trying to get over some things but having a hard time fitting back into society. Even my family, at least my cousins, can’t understand. Take for instance two weeks ago. I am at a little family get-to-gather at my uncle’s house. There was four cousins all with their dates. Me? No, I have not met any one yet.

There was beer and loud music. Two of my cousins are in the Navy and had just gotten back off a cruise to the Med. Guarding the southern coast of NATO, Wow! To hear them telling it they had saved the country from an invasion. By who? The fucking French? Or maybe those ass loving Greeks. They acted like they had just come back from the WAR! Maybe it was the five beers I had consumed, or maybe it was just that I was tired of listening to guys talk about how hard they had it, standing watch when it was cold or hot or at night. Well I got angry and told them what I thought about their great act of patriotism.

Then one of the girlfriends asked what I had done for my country. The silence was deafening.

“Five years in the Marine Corps, three tours in Viet Nam as an Infantryman. I’ve killed better men than these two with my bare hands. I’ve held my buddies while a Navy Corpsman tried to plug holes in their bodies to no avail. I’ve helped put those same friends in body bags, loaded them into a helicopter and walked away.” See I told you I have issues!

There was lots more I wanted to say but why waste my breath. These kids would never understand. I got in my truck and left.

Today finds me standing in front of the new Wal-Mart. Grandma needed some new shoes so I brought her here. While she is inside I am smoking my third cigarette. Of course I am watching my surroundings. A habit I will never get over. My eyes pick up a couple arguing between two cars. I am not going to get involved, I tell myself. Their voices get louder. I am not going to say anything, I promise myself again.

Then she screamed as he hit her! She is on the ground and he is slapping her face and screaming, “Bitch. You will do as I say or...”

His foot is drawing back to kick her as I got there. I spun him around and told him not to touch her again.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can do to my fiancé?”