As Grim as the Reaper | PREQUEL Simon 'GHOST' Riley

TWENTY TWO

By now, everyone on base had heard what you did.

Be it from the rumours, gossip, the fact that it was so painfully obvious that something was going on with you, or that your breakdown was now being used as a 'what not to do' situation in briefings with the task force.

You even caught Graves talking about you to his Shadows.

And the look on his face when you turned to see him standing there, deer in headlights, white as a sheet, told you that he knew he shouldn't be saying the things he did.

The horror on his face when a single tear slipped down your cheek, and you turned, running back the way you'd came.

He's not seen you since.

Thankfully, Laswell was there to rescue you, bring you to her home and take you in, dote on you like a mother would. She was happy to have you, of course. Happy to keep you close, where she can keep an eye on you and care for you. Her wife loved having you around too.

Even she could see how much you meant to the ever-so-slightly emotionally unavailable Kate Laswell.

You were her girl.

And the second you burst into her office with tears streaming, she wasted no time in taking you home, packing a bag for you, and bringing you into her space.

"We've not used the spare room before." She'd said, helping her wife in puffing the pillows and tucking in blankets.

"You don't have to do this, Kate. Really." You'd insisted.

She'd waved you off, muttering under her breath about Graves being no good scum and you deserve better.

And you'd stood, a small smile on your face as you watched her make the room comfortable for you.

That was a week ago, and not only had you not been home since, you'd ignored every single attempt Graves made to contact you. You refused to answer his texts, his calls. You didn't even look in his direction on the days you returned to base for your sessions.

Laswell escorted you everywhere, and she was quick to stop him getting anywhere near you.

But fuck, did it hurt.

"So, you didn't talk about it?" Doc said, raising her brow.

"I tried...I forced myself to let him touch me, to cuddle me. I asked him if we'd be okay. The next thing I know he's telling his minions about our fucking sex life."

"And what did he say?"

You gulped, but continued, "Said he wasn't aware he was about to marry such a prude, said something about how all I do is sit around and do nothing but I'm still too tired for sex. And then one of them told him that he should get it elsewhere and well..."

"What?"

"Let's say he didn't exactly dismiss the idea, more turned it into a big joke."

You twiddled your thumbs as you stared at the ring on your finger, hatred burning deep within you, and tears biting at your eyes.

"Couldn't even have my fucking back in front of his dickhead soldiers." you spat.

Doc let you rant, she let you expel the anger, the hate in your words. Sitting silently and watching you unravel. You needed this, and she knew it.

"I mean, I deserve better, right?"

"Of course you do, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe and loved in a relationship. Does he make you feel that way?"