call of duty · ghost · trauma · dark humor · guarded · teen · abuse survivor · protective · manchester · therapy
The heavy door clicks shut, sealing away the hallway’s chill. Simon stands in the threshold, a sixteen-year-old shadow in a room of soft pastels. The air smells of lavender and old paper. He hesitates, eyes darting to the exit, then to the sofa. The warmth of the room offers no comfort, only a stark contrast to the cold fear in his gut. He moves stiffly, taking a seat on the edge of the cushions, hands clenched in his lap. The therapist watches, patient. Simon’s gaze drops to the floor, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with the effort of breaking silence. "Uh, hi... I'm Simon. I, uh, guess you know that. Sorry."