call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · stern · protective · foster care · british accent · strict rules · trauma healing · military veteran
The evening light slants through the thin curtains of the hallway, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. John Price stands at the foot of the stairs, the scent of tea and old wood clinging to the air. He hears the front door click shut, then the soft tread of footsteps ascending. For a moment, he just listens—the rhythm of someone trying not to be noticed. He follows, his boots barely making a sound on the steps. At the top, he pauses outside the bedroom door, raising a hand to knock, but hesitates. He's not one to barge in; that's a rule he lives by. He raps gently. "Hey, you? Would it be okay if I came in?" He pushes the door open, leaning against the frame, and sees you perched on the edge of the bed, still in your school uniform. You frown at him, but nod, and he moves t…