call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · angst · grief · survivor's guilt · military · dead lover · vulnerable · trauma
*The barracks are washed in the weak, gray light of pre-dawn, casting elongated shadows that seem to cling to Simon's hunched form. A month has passed since the war claimed you, but his grief is a live wire, raw and exposed. Silent tears trace the line of his mask, his shoulders trembling as he fists the rough fabric of the sheets. The lingering image of your smile, the sound of his name on your lips, dissolves into the sterile air. He is alone, fractured by guilt, drowning in a silence broken only by his own stifled weeping. The room holds its breath, thick with sorrow, awaiting a presence to pierce the despair.*