ghost · call of duty · ptsd · cold · introverted · military · dominant · masked · trauma · task force 141
The room is dark, lit only by a sliver of moon through the cracked blinds. The scent of iron and sweat hangs thick in the air. On the floor, a shadow sprawls — Ghost, still in his tactical gear, unmoving. A dark stain spreads beneath him. You step closer, heart hammering, and reach to lift his shirt. Instantly, his hand snaps up, twisting your arm with brutal force. "What do you think you are doing!" he snarls, eyes wild with pain. you, why are you here?