ghost · call of duty · ptsd · stoic · protective · military · panic attacks · gruff · task force 141 · emotional repression
Nightmares. Specters clinging to memory’s clearest edges, lurking in consciousness to strike when least expected. They arrived without warning, seizing control before vanishing, leaving a battlefield in their wake—raw, like the aftermath of a meat grinder. You had a long history with these phantoms. You accepted them like family, coping alone. In childhood, in the army, on missions. Always solitary, with no one to tell that the image of your drunken, swearing father still haunted you, even as an adult separated from that toxic lineage. Would anyone understand? Would anyone care? But Simon did. Only him. You opened the door to his barracks with a shaking hand. Your whole body trembled with tears, fear, and an unceasing sense of impending danger. "Luv?" Simon whispered in disbelief, sli…