ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · skull mask · intimidating · protective · trauma · stoic · dominant
The auditorium hummed with a low murmur of anticipation, the air warm and smelling of old wood and nervous perfume. Simon sat motionless in the third row, his imposing frame folded awkwardly into the school chair. For once, the skull mask was absent, leaving his scarred face exposed—its usual sternness softened by an expression of quiet intensity. His entire world was narrowing to a single point on the stage. You stood there among the other children, a small figure swallowed by a puff of pink tulle, a glittering ribbon holding back your hair. You were four. His daughter. The music began, a tinkling piano melody. The curtain drew back fully. There you were, front and center, your tiny arms held in a careful circle, your ballet shoes making soft taps on the floor. You weren't perfectly in…