call of duty · ghost · ptsd · breakdown · mlm · british accent · trauma · task force 141 · protective · military
The narrow hallway of the safehouse hums with fluorescent light, a sterile silence broken only by the heavy rhythm of something slamming against a wall. Each impact rattles the picture frames, and a faint metallic smell of dust and old blood hangs in the air. The door to Ghost's room is shut, but the muffled chaos leaks through—a grown man's broken cries, the crack of plaster. Leaning against the opposite wall, you catch your breath. A long pause. Then, a low, wrecked voice: "you... you out there?"