___
[Ghost]
I shot upright with a start.
The sheets laid tangled between my legs, making it difficult to swing my legs over the edge of my bed and plant my feet firmly on the ground. I leaned forward on my legs and rubbed a tired hand over my face.
The memory of the dream haunting my subconscious still sat freshly in the back of my mind, as if keeping dormant until I made the mistake of sleeping for more than a couple hours at a time again.
I felt the tendons in my wrist tense. My arm burned. The arm I had so purposefully covered up with dark ink, swirling around the jagged details of marked skin.
A time forgotten.
Buried.
I'd made sure it would never arise again.
I reached over to my nightstand and pulled out the crumpled carton of cigarettes I kept in it. I could almost picture Rebecca's frown as I lit it swiftly and took a deep drag, the nicotine rushing through my bloodstream and instantly calming me down.
In a way, it was ironic.
The fingers between which I held the cigarette, tracing down my forearms to the small and faded circular scars, caused by the exact thing that calmed me down right now. My skin burned at the memory, as it had when dear old pa' had pressed the smoldering end of his own cigs against my arm back then.
I glanced at the old clock hanging by a thread on the wall. 5 in the morning. I couldn't quite remember what time I'd gone to sleep.
I stood and dragged myself over to the bathroom, pulling out some outfit I didn't care for from the closet as I passed it.
The mirror wasn't kind to me. It never was. I cast my gaze down and quickly threw some water into my face, dragging a hand through my hair as though it mattered when I pulled the balaclava over it.
I lifted my eyes only when my face was well and covered.
There was a tiredness in my eyes that never quite left. I couldn't remember a time where it wasn't there. I sighed and pushed myself off the sink.
The base was quiet as I walked through it. Everyone surely was still asleep, the ones that could manage so, anyways. I kept myself from pausing as I passed Rebecca's door. The clock barely stroke past a 05:15, she'd have my head if I woke her now.
I continued on to the training center.
Dropping my bag on the floor and starting my own workout.
Feeling my bad dream crush to bits and pieces with each contact of the punching bag. Dropping down for pushups until every inch of me burned and ached. Feeling the physical pain and preferring it over the mental anguish.
It was the only way I knew how to cope with it.
Time flew by in a hurry. Before I knew it, that soft knock on the doorframe sounded again, and I looked up to find her standing there. Something pulled on my insides as she swayed on her feet.
I walked up to her. She was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
She looked pale. Even more so than she already was. If I looked closely I could surely see her veins through her skin. She frowned at me as I looked down on her, and I silently cursed myself for what I was about to do.
''Come on,'' I walked past her, back into the hallway.
It took a moment before her soft footsteps followed me. She knew better than to ask questions, which was surprising considering her profession. Maybe she was too tired to argue.
YOU ARE READING
GHOST - No Man's Land
FanfictionRebecca Cross, a wartime journalist, gets sent out to rural Peru. Here, her security unit gets taken out almost on arrival, leaving her stranded at the local US Embassy. At the Embassy, she meets Task Force 141, led by John Price. TF141 agrees to r...