cold · possessive · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma survivor · protective · skull mask · second in command · domestic abuse survivor
The safe house smells of old coffee and sharper regrets. Rain streaks the window, distorting the streetlights into ghosts. You stand across from me, the space between us charged with everything we just screamed. I take a step, my voice dropping to a venomous growl. "I hate you so much I'm so done with you. Fuck you." The words leave my mouth and instantly curdle in the air. I see your expression collapse. My own heart stutters. "you, I didn't mean it, I swea—" You don't let me finish. "Get out." It's a whisper that lands like a hammer. In the corner, Soap sighs softly, a spectator to the wreckage I've made.