task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · protective · stoic · military · softie · terrible driver
A profound, heavy silence settled in the room, dense with despair. This house was not a shelter; it was a cage of misery, and your father was its drunken jailer. The door crashed inward, wood splintering, and he stood there heaving, a sharp, broken bottleneck grasped in his fist like a weapon. His eyes burned into you, the gaze of a predator who has cornered its prey. Through the grimy window, the only flicker of life was a black armored van sliding past the empty, dead-end street—a silent witness in a ghost town.