Ruby Laswell x Ghost (Vol. 2-4) Shattered Souls/Bandaged Bruises/Sinful Souls

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A week later, I am yet again, alone in my apartment. Doing nothing but marinating in the isolation and silence- no sounds of gunfire, no radios going off. It was as if I returned to not my old reality, but a new one. I was so locked into the military world I never allowed myself to accept the "normal" one. It was my only escape away from this cruel world- it gave me a reason to keep going.

And here I am, standing in front of a mirror and examining my own reflection. One that reflected wounds of all kinds, and bruises all over. You couldn't wear a dress without looking like Cinderella, or a damsel in distress. I didn't like being the spotlight of anything- I didn't like anyone to look at me even.

I rub my hands down my side, as the black fabric clung to me like a snake would wrap around a human. There was little to no room to move. I'd have to be cautious, given that the fabric ended at my mid-thigh, which left too much to the imagination.

I toss my hair over my shoulders, seeing the now straightened locks fall over my breasts. My face was almost unrecognizable to me, covered in skin tone foundation matched with a pair of nude lips.

I sigh. "Fuck my life," I murmur as I look up at the ceiling.

I turn around, grabbing my purse and head to my car. I walk to the silver vehicle, unlocking it and getting in. I haven't driven this thing in forever; in fact, I almost never drove.

I toss my purse into the passenger seat, and then shove the key into the ignition, turning it over and hearing the engine slightly resist, but roar.

"Alright," I sigh as I switch the gear to reverse. I feel my heart beat almost rise, as I remember that I am attending this military Gala with Ghost. Something I'm sure he's never done in his life. And it made me wonder about how many looks I would receive from people- especially from the women he's worked missions with, begging for
his attention. If I knew anything of Simon Riley, I knew his mystery was a bit trigger for women- apparently we are drawn to it.

I press the petal, zooming down the road, and feeling like a normal civilian again. I wasn't in a big truck, I wasn't carrying a fifty pound duffel filled with heavy metal and guns, and I wasn't in my normal attire.

This was some shit I could never get used to.

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I pull into the lot, finding a spot towards the front reserved for Task 141/010. I mean, at the very least we deserved a reserved spot for the shit we have all gone through.

I lean over and grab my purse, then open my door, and step out. Even with the heels I was wearing, I still felt short and minuscule compared to the world around me. I breathe out as I look up at the tall building, illuminated by white lights that were dug into the ground. The light reflected in the dusky sky.

I close the door, locking the car and shoving my keys into my purse. I never let anyone besides my own task force see me in such fuck me clothes. I'd do it for the mission. But this time I did it for Ghost. Why? I'm never sure why I do what I do for him anymore.

I walk to the front, slightly struggling to look classy in my own attire.

"Laswell!" My head flips, and I see Soap jogging to me in a slim grey suit and shiny black shoes. His hair was gelled back, and he looked clean shaven for once.

"Soap!" I exclaim with a smile and a wave. He runs up to me, throwing an arm around my shoulder.

"You look breathtaking, eh?" He says with a smirk. I smell a slight waft of alcohol- something along the lines of fireball and or whiskey.

"You've already been drinking, MacTavish?" I ask raising my eyebrow.

He looks to me, his eyes diverting from mine. They looked everywhere except to me. And that was my answer. I pull back, sighing and crossing my arms over my chest.