ꀤꌗ ꓄ꃅꀤꌗ ꒒ꂦꃴꍟ? || Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem OC

Long Time No See

I never understood the meaning behind my name, maybe it was the fact my hair was almost a chestnut auburn colour, or maybe the fact i had green eyes, or maybe it was the freckles. Maybe it was all of that, which swayed my poor mother to choose the damned name.

Summer Evans. Heh Summer. Stupid name, stupid season, stupid, stupid. Lord bloody fuck.

Stupid, stupid, stupid name.

I groaned in frustration, the familiar sound of metal scarping against metal ringing in my ears "Will you keep the fuckin noise down James!?" i hissed, angry with my oncoming headache.

"Jesus Masie im just doing what you asked" James replied from the far end of the shed, sharpening my knives "Why do you need them sharpened anyways? You look at this shit and you already feel cut"

I rolled my eyes and chuckled "Just...stuff" i say "Dont be as damn loud though" i muttered rubbing my temples, as i leaned against the workshop table.

Scrape Scrape

"I said keep that shit down James!" i said, squeezing my eyes shut.

Scrape Scrape

"Fuck you bitch, your just an angry slut thats fucking all"

Scrape Scrape

"You should have stayed dead whore"

Scrape Scrape

"This is why your fathers watching...fuckin disappointment, couldn't even take-"

"James!" i yelled "Stop! Just stop for a damned minute!" my heart was pounding in my ears. It was too hot. Too much. But too much what?

I dug my nails into my palms desperately trying to bring myself back to reality, feeling the pain kick in, i tried regulating my breathing, focusing on the sharp waves of pain.

"Sorry" i breathe out finally as my eyes flutter open, and i looked towards James with a sorry expression. 

"I-i didn't know what came over me...im sorry" i muttered, my eyes flashing around the room.

I wasn't there anymore. I was here, i was safe. My name wasn't Summer, it was Maisie. Everything's fine. Everything is-

"Maisie your sensory issues are only getting worse, you should take a break" He murmured, giving me a concerned look with those deep slate blue eyes he honed perfectly, his gaze like a worried father.

He wasn't stupid, every time you shed your jumper and worked in your tank top instead, he'd seen the medusa tattoo on your upper arm as well as the scars and those bruises which just seemed to have stayed simply by the brute forced used to inflict them time an time again. Some scars never really left, just a burning reminder of past mistakes and damaged tissues.

"You worry too much old man" i huffed "Keep the worry for your actual kids" i say with a chuckle, turning to face the work bench and looking down at the various tools.

It funny how you could die at any moment. On decision your mind makes...oops there's already a sharp tool in your hand, and your gone.

I let out a sigh as i turned away, the imagery of my newly sharpened knives in my head, only this time they'd be covered in blood, like they'd usually be.

But it wouldn't be the blood of humans, no it'd be the blood of animals, i couldn't go around killing people, no matter what the thrill felt like just through the mere thought.

Watching as their eyes flash in fear, the all knowing feeling of their heart skipping a beat, before they realise it's too late. 

But no, they can't accept that.