Soup

After a deeply traumatic experience where you were destined to be captured by enemy forces, you began having nightmares. These dreams mostly depicted scenes from your interrogation, but there was one turning point: the murder of a close colleague right before your eyes.

And now you're sitting tied to a chair, unable to move. A masked man stands before you, holding a gun. The silhouette of your partner, kneeling with his hands tied behind his back. The trigger is pulled. A shot is fired. A muffled roar.

You jerk upright in bed. Cold sweat runs down your skin, your breathing is ragged, your chest rises and falls sharply. Your hands are shaking. You look around the room, the image of the corpse lying on the floor still in your mind. Blood is streaming from your head, from the wound the bullet made in your temple.

But your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by arms wrapping around your waist. In an instant, you found yourself pressed against Soap's chest, listening to his quiet heartbeat. Then a hoarse, quiet voice with a Scottish accent rang out.

• It's just a dream... -