Undeniable || Simon "Ghost" Riley ||

Chapter 19

All I See Is You

The Autumn months gradually turned into winter. Leaves cascaded gracefully down onto the ground, lining the earth with its bright orange and yellow hues.

"But I wanna go outside" I whined. The physical therapy sessions were going to be the death of me, depleting any energy I had reserved for the afternoon.

"You sound like a child, come on you only have a couple more minutes." Ava responded, clearly affected by my childlike state.

Ava and I had grown incredibly close since she's been back at the base with us. I mean we'd have to be, she's seen literally every single part of my body when she had to dress my wounds.

"Oh come on, you'd want to go outside if you died twice."

"You can't keep using that as an excuse." She giggled, "It's not right."

"Oh it so is. It gets Soap every time." I laughed. I pictured the time I was still in my bed, waiting to be released to walk and be on my own again. I told him I wanted food, but the doctors told him I couldn't. Used my death card, and boom. I had food. He got in trouble after that.

After completing my therapy, I stopped the treadmill, gasping for breath. I rested my hands on my hips to regain my oxygen back. It had been a rough process, but I was slowly regaining my stamina and strength back.

Emphasize the 'slowly'. My exercise was inclined walking. It was supposed to strengthen my heart again, but I felt like it was going to burst.

But I could still feel something was wrong with my body, like I was missing part of me. I kept telling myself I went through hell and back, so of course I would feel off. But it still bothered me.

Ava was the only person I let see my scars. Obviously the ones on my face weren't concealable, but my torso was. Everyday I looked into the mirror, I was reminded of that time I was in confinement and its aftermath.

I walked back to my room, collapsing from exhaustion on my bed. I stared up thoughtlessly at the ceiling, gaining the courage to get up and shower. This has been my routine everyday for the past couple of weeks. It felt like an endless cycle I couldn't get out of.

Feeling left out of the task force was a heavy burden I was carrying. Of course I wasn't with them when they started it, but now that I was recovering slowly, I wasn't around them as much as I wanted to.

They visited me when I was in my coma, and I greatly appreciated that. But now that I'm doing physical therapy, I'm still weak and not up for missions just yet. They consistently gather in the conference room during the afternoons, while I pass by the glass door every day on my way to my spot outside.

It hurts me more than it should watching them gather intel for missions without me. I feel like I'm not a part of them anymore even though that's definitely not the truth.

I finally gained the courage to lift myself off of my bed and step foot in my bathroom.

This was still the hardest part for me. Facing myself in the mirror stirred emotions within me that I hated. The white of my eye was still bloody, and the area surrounding it was swollen. My face was covered in bruises, but what bothered me most were the stitches across my lips and the cut extending from the bridge of my nose to my cheek.

I almost hated looking at myself. The scars would only remind me of him; something I never wished to recall again.

The healing process was going to be lengthy, particularly with my recent heart surgery. Undressing was a challenge, as I quickly discovered the necessity of wearing zip-up jackets to avoid straining the stitches still lining my torso.