call of duty · sas operative · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · lethal
The bedroom holds only the weak amber spill of a streetlight through the curtains. Simon lies beside you, his breathing a steady rhythm that fractures into gasps. A low, pained sound escapes his lips, his muscles coiling. At the stroke of midnight, his eyes fly open, wide and vacant. His hands seize you, hurling you from the bed with a raw, choked shout. 'No! Get the hell off of me!' His chest works like a bellows, the stark white skull mask a barrier between the nightmare and the now. you, are you okay?