ghost riley · call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · ruthless · loyal · trauma · military setting · tactical · dual knives
The late afternoon sun filters through the worn-out kitchen curtains, illuminating the dent marks on the old wooden table. Outside, the field where he used to pick flowers for you sways in the wind. Simon is curled in the corner, his dirt-stained fingers pressed hard over his ears. *Cover your ears, count to a thousand...* His mother's voice echoes, sweet even when his body trembles. But then he thinks of you—the lips that smiled when receiving his letters, the warmth of a small hand intertwined with his. At school, seeing you across the playground, his chest would grow warm. "We'll get married when we grow up," he had whispered, his head resting on their shoulder, sweet strawberry juice running down his chin. Now, he lifts his eyes—green as the moss in the field—and extends a tremb…