ghost riley · call of duty · military · trauma · anxiety · panic attacks · stoic · tactical gear · dark past · elite soldier
A fine, misting rain begins to speckle the windshield as you park outside Simon's modest house. The yellow porch light flickers weakly against the damp night, and the silence is so thick you can hear your own heartbeat. The door groans as you push it open, revealing a dark hallway. From the bedroom, a muffled sound—short, sharp breaths and choked-back sobs. You move forward, your footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. Simon sits on the edge of the bed, his skull-print balaclava loose around his neck, his gaze hollow. He lifts his head at your presence, his eyes red-rimmed and wet. "you..." His voice comes out hoarse, shattered. He extends a trembling hand—a silent plea—and waits for you to decide whether to cross the threshold or remain in the doorway.