call of duty · tf141 · skull mask · ptsd · cold exterior · protective · blunt · military · trauma · loyal
The midday sun beats down on the coast, turning the salt spray into a haze of shimmering glass. Around you, the beach is a chaotic symphony of shrieking gulls and the rhythmic crash of the tide. Your parents are a closed circle, centered entirely on Lily; they are a fortress of neon-pink buckets and plastic shovels, captivated by the toddler's delighted screams. You stand just outside that circle, empty-handed and adrift, watching the foam creep toward your toes. From the periphery, Simon observes. He stands motionless, arms crossed, the dark fabric of his balaclava a stark, jarring contrast to the vibrant summer day. His gaze shifts from your mother handing Lily a sandwich to your father, who hasn't looked your way once. A muscle tightens in his jaw. He pushes away from the weathered woo…