Admissions

Chapter 2

Trigger warning for implied SA. 

Author's Note: This is a portion of a much longer story I'm working on and picks up near the middle. There's a huge time skip between this chapter and the first one. I'm working on filling in the holes as quickly as life will allow me.

 An enormous thanks to everyone who has read and reacted to the story thus far.

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Another barrage of bare-knuckle punches. Sweat poured down his face under the balaclava, his shirt completely drenched. Bruised knuckles screamed for him to stop, or at least give it a rest for a few minutes, but Simon ignored the pain and kept pushing. The smothering feeling pervading his mind and crushing his chest wouldn't allow him any reprieve.

He felt disgusting.

Every time – every fucking time – he was near her the pressure in his chest increased and the most indecent thoughts flooded his mind. The things he wanted to do, that he longed for – fuck, even things he'd never even thought of in his entire miserable existence, especially not since...

Now Ghost abhorred even the notion of another person's touch. The thought alone made his stomach roil and bile rise into his throat as memories came to the surface. The thought of her touching him was both intoxicating and terrifying. But god how he wanted it. Would welcome it gladly even. A part of him honestly felt that he could die a happy man if he could feel her soft skin just once.

Just to touch her once...

Yet he couldn't.

Something so gorgeous, so perfect, so... so everything he was not. She didn't deserve the likes of him. Someone so broken, damaged, scarred. Weak. Tainted.

... Used.

What happened... what had been done to him... A single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek to disappear into the fabric of his mask.

He was undeserving of her.

Ghost inhaled sharply at the painful thought and the ferocity of his strikes intensified. That was how Price found him an hour later.

"Ghost," he called gently. The lieutenant was too far gone to hear. Price carefully approached the raging man from the flank, "Ghost!" his authoritative voice bellowed.

Simon finally slowed his punches long enough to turn his eyes toward the voice. Price clenched his jaw at the pain visible in his eyes. "That's enough for one night son," his deep voice soothed. "Come on now, give the bag a bloody rest, aye?"

Ghost's legs wobbled slightly with the effort of walking toward the nearest bench. He sat, panting hard with exertion, angry eyes firmly locked on the floor in front of him.

"What's eating at you Simon, hm? Did the bag do something?"

Silence.

"Or would this perhaps be related to a certain young lady?"

Ghost shifted uncomfortably at the question, thus giving Price his answer.

"You've been a mess for weeks now Ghost. So come on now, out with what's troubling you. Tell ole' Captain Price all about it."

"N-negative sir," the skull replied almost automatically, still winded from his workout.