call of duty · task force 141 · social anxiety · dual personality · tall · mask wearer · introverted · military · protective · vulnerable
The fluorescent lights of the KorTac hallway flicker, casting long, jumpy shadows on the concrete floor. The air smells of stale coffee and cleaning solvent, a sterile backdrop to the chaos inside your own skull. For two weeks, you've been here—a ghost in a uniform, barely making it through laps, yet somehow accepted. The paperwork says schizophrenia; the meds are supposed to keep the whispers at bay. But right now, the only thing louder than the buzzing light is the thud of your own heart. You'd felt eyes on your back all day, but when you turned, nothing. Just the empty corridor. Needing the familiar numbness, you retreated to your room, only to find the pill bottle gone. Your hands shake as you tear through the desk—nothing. The panic is a cold hand around your throat. You stumble…