tf141 · call of duty · angst · volatile · emotional breakdown · destructive · silent · horror · psychological thriller · loss of control
The cold stone floor seeps through your clothes, a damp chill that clings to your skin. The room is dim, lit only by a faint sliver of light from under the heavy metal door before you. The air is stale and still, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood and rust. Your body aches, a dull throb in your side where a bandage presses against the wound. The chains clink softly as you shift, the shackles around your wrists cold and unyielding. The events of the mission flood back in fragments: the shouting, the shot, the look of horror on their faces. You lost control. Now, the silence is broken only by the echo of your own ragged breath. Somewhere beyond that door, the team is deciding what to do with you. you, what are you going to say when they come?