Revival | Ghost x Reader [Discontinued]

Rage

Ghost's POV 

(...One month later)

Word count: 1.7k

Cradling the crystal glass in my gloved hand, I stared aimlessly into the amber liquid as I sloshed it around. Turning my wrist in a circular motion, over and over. The golden brown elixir swirled and twirled in its glass encasing, clinging momentarily to the sides of it before cascading back into a pool at the base. 

Anger bubbled in my veins, blinding my vision as pure rage washed over me once again. A feeling I'd grown quite familiar with. My grip on the glass tightened, beginning to vibrate it with a volatile intensity as my thoughts wandered to Y/n. It's been a month now. One. Bloody. Fucking. Month. My jaw clenched underneath my mask as my fingers pressed against the crystalline figure in my grasp with even more force, small cracks forming around my fingertips. One month without Y/n. Without my fuckin' girl. 

With a loud roar, I sent the glass flying into the nearest wall, smashing it into thousands of shards that poured like rain against the wooded floor. Three other broken glasses had met the same fate earlier, my rage barely contained by the alcohol running through my bloodstream.

Soap, Price, Gaz, even fucking Laswell told me she was gone, that I should give up hope. They even held a bloody funeral in her honor. A funeral for my girl who I know is alive and well goddamnit. Needless to say, I didn't fuckin' attend.

When Laswell had told me Y/n was innocent after I watched her fall... fall for so long. Only for her to splat against the ground like a kid's forgotten ice cream on top of a cone sent me spiraling. She had told me she was innocent, begged me to believe her, and I didn't fucking listen. Nobody fucking listened. Shaking my head, I grasped the bottle of bourbon on the counter next to me, pulling the mask up to my nose, I began to down it. 

One gulp.

Two.

Three.

Four.

My eyes lit ablaze with fury as I ripped the bottle from my scarred lips and smashed it against the counter, pulling my black balaclava back down to my chin. The amber liquid inside splashed across my crinkled, stained shirt, the dented counter, the dirtied floor, the walls, and the ceiling. My fingers interlocked around the wooden chair, the closest thing in my reach, before that too was flung into a wall. The drywall splintering as the furniture broke apart against it. 

This was all my fault. If I had just believed her, if I had shot Hassan when I had the chance, if I had radioed into the goddamned helicopter, if I had done anything, she would be here with me right now. With her squad, her family. What if she'll never forgive us? Me? That thought alone led to the demise of another piece of furniture, grabbing the attention of a few other soldiers. My vision was red as I sent my fist into a wall, over and over. Growls and shouts of unintelligible curses spewed from my mouth as rage took full control over me.

Two arms wrapped themselves tightly around my chest, the mouth attached to whoever unlucky bastard who dared touch me screamed in my ear. A loud laugh ripped from my throat as I spun around and sent my boot into some random soldier's chest, his body flying into a wall, denting it. With two strides, I was on top of the fucker, sending punch after punch after punch into their face, blood splattering against my mask, bones breaking beneath my gloved knuckles. More soldiers filed into the room, attempting to restrain me.

There was only one person who'd be able to. She wasn't fucking here.

Don't they understand? The world will burn until I find her.