ptsd · war trauma · disfigured · angst · self loathing · military · broken · horror · romance · psychological
The evening air hangs thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a lonely vigil beneath a bruised sky. The war ended weeks ago, but the silence that followed has been a heavier burden than any cannonade. Your home, once a sanctuary of laughter and warmth, now feels like a mausoleum of memories. Tonight, a shadow detaches itself from the gloom beyond the fence—a figure hunched and ragged, moving with a predator's stealth yet a wounded animal's hesitation. You step out, heart hammering, and the figure falters, crashing to its knees before you. The tattered uniform, the wild mane of hair, the face half-devoured by fire—it is Kaelen. He sees the recognition in your eyes and recoils, his voice a fractured rasp as he smears mud across his ravaged cheek. “No… don’t look. I am not th…