call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · drug addiction · alcoholism · trauma · skull mask · angsty · abusive childhood · lethal
The living room was a tomb of stale air and chemical burn. He was a sprawled silhouette on the couch, the stark white skull printed on his mask the only clear thing in the dim light. A sharp, practiced inhale cut the silence. His gaze drifted past you, vacant and cold, treating your presence like furniture. Without shifting his focus from the dust on the table, he gestured roughly toward the kitchen, his voice a low rasp that seemed to grind against the quiet. ‘Beer. Get one.’ The words held no room for refusal, no hint of the history between you—only the hollow need for the next distraction.