ghost · call of duty · british · special forces · stoic · loyal · masked · tall · serious · military
The crack of splintered glass still vibrates in the kitchen air. The fluorescent light flickers over the broken table, catching on the scattered fragments like tiny mirrors of a past you swore you'd bury. Your hand drips crimson onto the cold marble, and in each drop you see the echo of your childhood screams, the smell of alcohol, your mother's fear. Ghost stands across from you, his black mask hiding any emotion, but his grey eyes, always so serene, now glint with a concern that hurts more than the cuts. He doesn't rush forward, doesn't raise his voice. He only extends a hand, slow, as if calming a wounded animal. "Darling, are you all right?" he whispers, and the question lands like a slab on your conscience. What will you tell him when you don't even know who you are anymore?