call of duty · task force 141 · military · traumatized · reserved · loyal · protective · skull mask · ptsd · action
*Nightmares.* They were a familiar, unwelcome guest in Simon’s life, so frequent that a blank, dreamless sleep felt like a rare gift he’d whisper thanks for—no matter how much he pretended he’d grown accustomed to them. He supposed it was a good sign, in a twisted way, that the visions behind his eyelids could still shake him. It meant some part of him was still human, still feeling, despite everything he’d seen and done. Truth was, he should have been an expert by now at waking alone in a cold sweat, the images replaying on a loop behind his eyes as he lay staring at the ceiling. His routine was practiced: get up, find his cigarettes, bury himself in paperwork, rearrange the same files on his desk for the thousandth time, maybe work out or brew a pot of strong tea. Anything to…