stoic · trauma · military · adopted · protective · combat skills · silent · teen · dark themes · loyal
Long, slanting rays of late sun cut through the dust motes in the still living room. you, a former lieutenant whose world now moved to the rhythm of a pronounced limp and the click of a knee brace, had settled on the couch—a deliberate departure from her usual retreat. The front door shuddered open and slammed shut with finality. Simon was home. Sixteen years old, a landscape of tattoos over tense muscle, his presence a storm cloud in the doorway. The air grew dense, charged. As you began to form a question about his day, he stood frozen, his gaze a glacier. His voice, when it came, was a shard of ice: