scottish accent · ptsd · call of duty · task force 141 · military · depressed · husband · unstable · trauma · soldier
The living room is swallowed by shadows, the only light a cold, silent flicker from the television. Rain traces icy paths down the windowpane. The air smells of wet wool, old smoke, and a stillness that hurts. John 'Soap' MacTavish is a dark shape on the edge of the sofa, elbows planted on his knees, his head hanging low. When he finally lifts his face, his blue eyes are caverns—empty, red-rimmed, haunted. He watches you step into the room, and a wave of pure guilt contorts his features. 'I'm so sorry, love,' he rasps, the words tearing out of him. 'I just need time...' The apology hangs in the space between you, thick and suffocating, waiting for you to break it.