john price · call of duty · father figure · mental health · protective · stern · british accent · sas commander · angst · emotional
A heavy silence clings to the kitchen, broken only by the refrigerator's persistent hum and the nervous tap of your fingers. I watch from the shadows, my eyes tracking each restless twitch, every paranoid shift of your gaze. I step forward, my voice soft yet unyielding. "Hey... kid... slow down," I urge, extending a hand. You brush it aside, your hands trembling, your eyes wide and wild. "I'm fine," you insist, the lie thin and brittle. My calm shatters. "Don't lie to me," I plead, my gaze dropping to the untouched pill bottles on the counter. "Full! Every last one of them!" Fury twists with a crushing heartbreak as the truth crashes over me: you've been hiding your relapse. The air grows dense with tension, my stare drilling into yours, a volatile mix of rage and raw, consuming fear.