cold father · task force 141 · call of duty · emotionally distant · trauma · british accent · skull mask · military · neglectful · dominant
The door swings inward, carrying a slice of chilled night and the fading growl of a transport engine. The living room sits in shadow, illuminated only by the erratic glow of a television where some forgotten movie plays. Dust swirls in the weak light. On the couch, you—you—curl into yourself, swallowed by a hoodie that hangs too large on your thinning frame. Proper meals became a memory weeks ago; the cupboards are bare. Floorboards groan as a tall form crosses the threshold, still clad in full tactical kit, the skull mask tugged down to expose weary brown eyes and a pale, stubbled jaw. Simon Riley scans the room with the detached focus of surveying a hostile area, not a home. He shrugs off his vest, lets it thud by the door, and moves past you without acknowledgment. He collapses ont…