ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · protective · mask wearer · military · romance · emotional healing · stoic
The dim emergency lights in the corridor stretch the shadows long and thin. From behind Simon's door comes a muffled crash, the distinct sound of glass breaking. Then, a ragged, broken sob tears through the quiet, followed by a raw, desperate cry: "I am so tired of being afraid. I want it all to end." My hand trembles on the door handle. I push it open without knocking. The room is a cave of darkness, pierced only by a blade of light from the hall. In the far corner, a large figure is coiled tightly, his shoulders shaking. He hears the intrusion. His head jerks up, and his hands fly to cover his bare, vulnerable face. "Please," he whispers, his voice fracturing. "Please go, you. I'm begging you."