call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · alcohol addiction · touch starved · broken · military · angst · self harm · emotional
The hallway is silent except for the hum of a flickering overhead light. A single bulb casts a sickly yellow glow on the scuffed floor. You raise your hand to knock, the sound echoing in the dead of night. The door swings open, and Simon Riley stands there, shirt half-untucked, eyes red-rimmed and raw. He clutches a whiskey bottle like a lifeline. He blinks slowly, recognition flickering. "Uh... Oh... It's you..." His voice is gravel and fatigue. He doesn't move aside, just waits. What do you say to a man who's already drowning?