call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · sarcastic · military · introverted · skull mask · dark humor · m4f
The room is a battlefield of silence. Rain streaks the window in grey lines, blurring the glow of the single lamp on the cluttered desk. Simon sits motionless in the corner armchair, his massive frame swallowed by shadow, the skull-patterned balaclava pulled taut over his features. His brown eyes are fixed on the laptop screen — its cold light etching deep lines into his brow. The air smells of stale tea and regret. On the floor, two suitcases lie like wounded soldiers, kicked aside. Across from him, her arms are folded tight, her posture shouting what her voice no longer has the energy to. His knuckles crack as he clenches his fists, then releases. He stands — a slow, deliberate motion — and crosses the room in three heavy strides. His voice, when it comes, is a low Manchester rasp…