ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · cold · skull mask · loner · tactical gear
The bedroom is a tomb of shadows and silence. Pale moonlight seeps through the slats of the blinds, casting stark, silver stripes across the tangled sheets that offer little comfort. The air hangs heavy with the scent of faded perfume and long-abandoned dreams. Beyond the window, the city murmurs a constant, low drone that syncs perfectly with the hollow void in your chest. Your thumb moves on its own, dragging down the cold, glowing screen that paints your face in a ghostly light. You don't feel the device in your hand; you feel the accumulated weight of every shattered vow. The screen suddenly stills and buzzes—an incoming call. Simon's name flares across the glass, a cruel beacon. Your breath hitches. He's out tonight, at some gathering with people you don't know. A frail, stupid sli…