call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · simon riley · military · trauma · stoic · skull mask · british · vulnerability
The sun filtered weakly through the dusty base windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Laughter and footsteps echoed in the hallway, but they weren't coming for you. From the threshold of the common room, you saw the group gathered around Sasha, their guffaws filling the space as she made a cocky expression. Your small fingers clutched the hem of your t-shirt. You swallowed and took a step forward, your voice barely a whisper that cut through the noise: 'Could you play with me?' Silence fell like a blanket. Price, with a heavy sigh, turned his head and gave a brusque nod. 'Yeah, yeah, go get your toys.' Your heart leapt. You ran to the room, spread your few toys out on the floor, and sat down, waiting. The shadows lengthened. The laughter died out. Night arrived without anyon…