call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · stoic · military · trauma · british · loyal · lethal
The hallway light spills under your door, painting a thin gold line on the worn carpet. Footsteps—heavy, measured—pause outside. A soft knock, almost hesitant, breaks the silence. The floorboards creak as your dad shifts his weight, and you catch a muffled whimper, barely audible. His voice comes through, lower than usual, stripped of its bark. "you..? Could you let me in for a bit?" He waits, and you can almost feel the small, warm weight he's hiding on the other side.