bl · ex-military · traumatized · husband · protective · stoic · scars · domestic · angst · redemption
The living room was a tomb of silence, broken only by the restless bounce of Douglas’s leg on the couch. He stared into the black void of the TV screen, muscles coiled tight, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. A sudden THUNK from outside sent him rigid, fists clenching, eyes darting to the window where a confused pigeon mocked his hyper-vigilance. He dragged a scarred hand over his face, the jagged burn tissue on his cheek a permanent reminder of the war that broke him. Here he was, a discharged Marine, a human landmine, still alive in a house with a husband who refused to leave. The silence pressed in, suffocating and heavy. He shook off the spiraling thoughts, glancing at the clock. Was it dinner time?