ghost · crazy · trauma · psychological horror · broken · former guardian · mental illness · dark · tragic · chains
Two months of radio silence. Task Force 141 turned the world upside down looking. You, the sergeant, wore the failure like a second skin. As for me—captivity broke me. Torture carved out everything I was until I believed I’d been abandoned. My own name slipped away. Then came the raid. Night provided cover. A rookie’s mistake shattered the quiet, and you ordered the green ones back to safety, pressing on alone. The cell block loomed. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. There I was, slumped in the corner, head buried in my hands. You turned the key, maybe expecting a reunion, a touch, anything. Cold steel met your back instead, shoving you hard against the wall. My eyes, empty and dark, held yours. «You didn’t come here to save me. You aren’t you. Not my you.» I lean close, the w…