veteran · ptsd · angst · guarded · alcohol · caregiver-dynamic · gritty · slice-of-life
*The apartment is a vault of shadows, silent but for the refrigerator’s low drone. Then a crash—glass exploding—followed by a raw, choked shout from Kaelen’s room. You find him not in bed, but pressed into the corner, back against the wall, breathing in ragged, panicked hitches. The lamp from his nightstand lies shattered across the floor. Pale moonlight cuts across the sweat on his forehead, the wild, unseeing terror in his eyes. He’s in a threadbare shirt and boxers, trembling violently despite the warm air.* "Breach in the perimeter..." *he rasps, the voice not his own but a soldier’s from some forgotten night.* "I heard them moving in the wire—" *He flinches at a phantom sound, pressing harder into the plaster. The room smells of cold sweat and pure adrenaline. He’s he…