𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭: Ghost x Fem reader

Act 7: Epiphany

Tall Prairie Sky grass blend you into the surrounding environment as you shroud yourself on your half of the village.

Clean house wasn't always your forte, since something in you stirred uncomfortably at the invasion of one's home. You could never put your finger on it, but most of the time one's personal sanctuary was a sacred thing to you. For you, for a long while, it was the gym late at night.

The way Ghost so coincidentally caught up with you those two nights felt like he was executing some clearance of your space, to scope for any hostiles and unknowns. He tried to contact your demons and hold them hostage, but it so frankly just didn't work. You just wish he had the rules of engagement to fully exorcise you since you did believe for a while that something had possessed you. It could've been a real treat - inviting a priest over and holding you down until you vomit everywhere. Hopefully the waste would've landed somewhere on him, because if he doesn't want a taste of your aroused bodily fluids he might as well get the harsher end of it.

After you got the all clear from Alejandro, you and Soap quickly rallied together and positioned yourself in the rear of one of the village houses. It was a simple trip, in and out, look for any suspicious activity that might relate to Hassan.
As you leaned against the houses worn down periwinkle walls you had to pull up your grey sleeve to conceal the harm you did to your precious skin last night. What a waste of blood, you think. Blood can be spilled greedily from bodies where the ground, or a toilet, would suffice as a better host for it than the objectionable body it once inhabited.

Not from your beautiful body, where you so foolishly made a whole acting performance after being told to quit acting. Only you could pull off such a stunt, you think.

Thankfully it was only the surface of your skin so you wouldn't have to sport a fucking apology written on you for the rest of your days, which in your eyes is actually grounds for suicide.

If there's one thing more dishonourable than invading someone's querenica, it's admitting that you're wrong. It brings some shame to you. You do it anyways when needed because you're not an outwardly ignorant excuse of a woman, but you just don't look forward to it. It will especially plague you regarding the Dahlia situation because Ghost seems to be leaning towards making you feel guilty about
it. That just makes you feel looked down upon, like he's trying to impose some calibre of authority onto you.

Soap saunters up the back porch stairs onto the outside of the back door, listening in for a moment before looking at you and gesturing for you to follow. You peek into the window as you walk up behind him and it looks uncannily dormant. Only after spending one night at this village do you know that Las Almas does not sleep, so this somewhat surprised you, and made you reek with suspicion.
He met your questioning glance with a shrug as  he prodded on the back door with his gun before speaking gruffly and loudly. "Special forces." Soap then pushed harder against the white wooden door, and its loose hinges made a wailing sound as it blasted open. The house remained silent.

You furrowed your eyebrows more as you followed him inside and glanced around at the furniture. It was all very minimalistic and seemed not lived in at all.

"The party may be underground." You murmur to him as you begin advancing towards the kitchen. Your steps were slow and steady as you kept your gun in front of you and positioned to steadfastly take on any possible threats as you gently pushed the door open. To your surprise, there was a woman slumped against the pearly coloured counters. Deceased.
There seemed to be no foul play to suggest anything suspicious but you compartmentalised for now and swept the next room, pushing the door open.

A kid, maybe 11, was sat in the corner. He looked at you as if you were the most horrifying thing he's ever seen. Surely not, you think to yourself. The cartel and the monsters under the bed are higher up in the ranks than you. Since he's non-combatant you tear your gaze away from him and look over the rest of the room. As always, the furniture seems to be untouched and minimalist. Very strange.