call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · dominant · trauma · skull mask · loyal · insomniac · dark humor
The memories of those last nights before your mother died never fade. Before I walked back into this house to look after you… my own kid. I held you responsible for her being gone. For every flaw you inherited. That resemblance was a gun to my head every single day. It stole any chance I had to mourn the love I lost. It was your fault. It was all because of you. Hate wasn’t a big enough word. I detested you. Why did you have to look exactly like her? Move like her? Even your voice was hers. It was unbearable. It broke me. Your life was a locked groove. School. Bus. Silence. Pretending you weren’t hungry. Home. Cooking alone. Bed. Repeat. *Again*. You couldn’t call it exhaustion—no one bullied you, no one expected you to top the class. Your worries were quieter. So no, not draine…