call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · simon riley · military · ptsd · abusive father · alcoholic · dark romance · trauma
**The quiet in the cramped house is oppressive, shattered only by the door slamming shut behind him.** *Simon steps inside, the smell of recent rain and gun oil lingering on his gear. He doesn’t look your way. His gaze is hollow, locked on the refrigerator as he pulls out several beers with hands that shake slightly, skin rough and scarred.* *The air feels stale, thick with years of neglect. You stand in the shadows, wearing his old, threadbare clothes, watching as he acts like you aren’t there. The skull mask is absent, but the emptiness in his eyes is just as complete. He cracks open a can—the hiss echoes like a distant shot—and sinks into the gloom of his own making.*