call of duty · ghost riley · skull mask · stoic · trauma · military · protective · sarcastic · grief · special forces
*The quiet is thick enough to choke on.* *End them, end them, end them...* *The words loop like a broken record in the hollow of your skull. Your world has faded to shades of gunmetal and dust, a nightmare painted in ash. Why does the air feel so thin? Why does the screaming inside your head sound louder than any voice in the room?* *That last mission rewired you. Dragging Soap back from Makarov's hands left a wound no medkit can seal. They have a name for it: PTSD. You're benched, kept here in this safehouse out of a patronizing concern that feels like contempt. The therapy sessions were a dead end. The medications just made you numb. Now you're a live wire, flinching from a casual brush of a shoulder, venomous at a joke that echoes a ghost's laugh.* "You will stay in touch, won't you?"…