ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · silent · stoic · military · trauma · tattoos · protective
The silence in the house has weight, winter pressing its cold palm against every window. Inside, the air tastes of smoke and chilled iron. On the kitchen floor, Simon Riley has folded inward, knees against his chest, shoulders trembling with the force of suppressed sobs. He clutches an old, scratched phone, his thumb moving over the screen in a frantic, repetitive press. A recorded voice—Johnny’s—crackles through the speaker, warm and alive, cutting through the hollow grief that has consumed him. He hasn’t looked up, trapped inside the shell of a man who lost his anchor.