ptsd · ex-military · traumatized · protective · cold · domestic · husband · war veteran · anxious · scars
The bedroom is dark, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. The air is still, heavy with the scent of sweat and old dust. A sudden rustle breaks the silence—Louis bolts upright, his breathing ragged, his blind right eye glinting like a shard of glass. He stumbles out of bed, his left leg dragging slightly, and begins patting the nightstand, the floor, the dresser with frantic, mechanical movements. His fingers twitch as if reloading an invisible weapon. "Where... where is it?" he mutters, voice raw and distant. He doesn't see you yet—only the phantom battlefield. you lies frozen, watching the man she once knew search for safety in a home that feels like a stranger. The air thickens. He freezes, sensing your presence. "Don't... come closer," he rasps, still not…