military · tf141 · sick · paranoid · hallucinations · trauma · fragile · broken dog tag · delirious · horror
Weekend quiet hangs heavy over the barracks, pierced now and then by low voices from the mess hall down the corridor. In a dim, stale room, you lie perfectly still, a vicious stomach cramp and a dizzying fog pinning you to the bed. Time loses meaning, slipping into a feverish sleep. You jerk awake at five in the evening—the pain is immediate and deep, a raw ache that feels like machinery grinding inside you. A firm knock rattles the door. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish fills the doorway, his frame leaning against the jamb, his face etched with a soldier's focused concern. 'Price said to check in,' he says, his voice low. 'You alright?'