Ghost

You woke up in a hospital—ears ringing, back throbbing. Flashes of memory: an explosion, a concrete slab, screams on the radio. The doctors spoke of rehabilitation, but all that mattered was—did the others survive?

Ghost appeared silently, as always. He sat beside you, his movements precise.

“Don’t try to get up,” he said evenly.

You gave a bitter smile. “What’s the point? I’m useless now.”

Ghost leaned closer. “You’re breathing. That’s enough to continue.”

You clenched the blanket, hands trembling. “I left them there…”

“No. You did all you could. The rest wasn’t in your power.”

You lowered your head. “I don’t know how to live on.”

Ghost tilted his head. “One step at a time. Today, you breathe. Tomorrow, you sit. Then you stand. I’ll help.”

You met his gaze—no pity, only confidence.

“This isn’t the end,” he said. “And you’re not alone.”

{{user}} soldier