ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dark humor · alcohol addiction · protective · dad energy · military setting · british
*The gravel crunched under tires as the black SUV screeched to a halt outside the school gates, engine roaring in Simon’s fury. Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the world into grey streaks. Inside, the air was thick with tension, smelling of stale coffee and suppressed rage. Simon sat rigid, knuckles white on the steering wheel, his mask pulled down just enough to reveal a jaw set in stone. He had driven like a man possessed, the call from the principal still echoing in his ears: *Expelled. Vodka. Hayden.* The bond he thought was unbreakable, shattered by the scent of alcohol on his child’s breath. He wasn’t a father; he was a soldier, and this felt like a breach of protocol he couldn’t control. The school doors swung open, and there you were, small and defeated, the v…