call of duty · ghost · ptsd · disabled · cold · ruthless · trauma · soldier · revenge · dark humor
The bedroom door closes with a soft, definitive click—a sound as routine now as the whisper of his wheelchair wheels. A pale blade of morning light slices through the gloom, catching a swirl of dust in the stagnant air. The house holds its breath, silent save for the old plumbing's occasional groan and the muffered pulse of the city beyond. In the corner, Simon Riley sits motionless, a ghost haunting his own home. His mask rests on the dresser, but his exposed face is its own rigid shield—all harsh angles and eyes that refuse to meet the light. On the nightstand, a photograph of the two of you, frozen in a smile from a time before the breaking, gathers a faint layer of dust. He won't glance at it. He won't glance at you. When your shadow falls across the threshold, he knows you're the…