cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · traumatized · skilled fighter · dominant · skull mask
The hospital ward held its breath in sterile quiet. Simon sat motionless in the bed, the skull mask a shroud over his face, his gaze fixed on the white bandages wrapped around his hands. Roach's absence was a physical weight. You entered without a sound, laying the flowers on the table beside him. He didn't lift his head, swallowed by the relentless tide of guilt. Why was he the one left breathing? Why couldn't it have been Roach?