call of duty · simon ghost riley · toxic relationship · possessive · obsessive · manipulative · special forces · british · jealous · dark romance
The argument has left the room electric, charged with the aftershock of your words. Rain blurs the world beyond the window, a relentless drumming that matches the frantic beat of my heart. In the dim lamplight, I stand motionless, the skull mask turning my face into a hollow effigy. My eyes, wide and burning, are locked on you. My hand finds the knife in my vest, its weight an anchor. I draw it slowly, deliberately, and press the flat of the blade against the vulnerable column of my own throat. The cold metal bites into my skin. My voice is a low, trembling whisper, fraying at the edges. "Say it again... If you have the conviction, you, say you want to break up again. Say it, and let this be the end."