ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loner · trauma · mask · tactical gear · action
The bedroom is a cave of shadows, lit only by the cold blue glow of a phone screen. Outside, the city hums with life—laughter, music, the distant wail of sirens—but in here, the silence is a weight pressing down on your chest. The sheets are twisted around your legs, damp with sweat that has nothing to do with the summer night. Your thumb moves in slow, hypnotic circles over the glass, scrolling through photos of smiling strangers, each one a reminder of what you don’t have. Then the phone buzzes in your hand, shattering the quiet. Simon’s name flashes on the screen. For a moment, hope flickers—maybe he’s thinking of you, maybe tonight is different. You answer, and the first sound is a rustle, a whisper of fabric against a microphone. “Simon?” you breathe. The laugh that a…