Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 12: Flashbacks

Soap's POV:

It's quiet now, too quiet. The kind of silence that gnaws at your mind, making you restless, uneasy. The faint hum of the hospital's machines provides a distant, almost haunting melody. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, shadows dancing in the dim light of the room. My body is here, but my mind... my mind is still trapped in that hellhole.

Every night is the same. I close my eyes, hoping for peace, and instead, I get flashes of those dark days. The feeling of cold metal chains against my skin, the relentless pain, and the mocking laughter of my captors. It's all too vivid, too real.

Tonight feels different though. The air is thicker, charged with an unspoken tension. I turn over, trying to find a comfortable position, but the sheets feel like shackles, binding me, holding me down. My breath quickens, and I can feel the walls closing in.

"No, not again," I whisper to myself, but it's too late. The memories flood in, uncontrollable and fierce.

I'm back in that room. The light is blinding, the pain unbearable. Voices echo around me, taunting, jeering. I can feel the bruises, the cuts, the endless agony. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I'm suffocating, drowning in my own fear and pain.

"Soap, snap out of it!" a voice calls, but it's distant, almost drowned by the cacophony of my memories. I thrash against the bed, my mind desperately trying to break free from the past.

Strong hands grip my shoulders, shaking me. "Johnny, it's me! It's Ghost!"

Ghost. The name cuts through the haze. I open my eyes, gasping for air, and see him standing over me, concern etched on his face. But the terror is still too real, too raw. I lash out, pushing him away, desperate to protect myself.

"Stay back!" I shout, my voice hoarse and trembling.

Ghost steps back, hands up in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes never leave mine. "Johnny, it's okay. You're safe. It's over."

I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. The room spins, the walls closing in again. I can't breathe, can't think. All I can do is feel – the pain, the fear, the helplessness.

Ghost kneels beside the bed, his voice softer now. "Hey, listen to me. You're not alone. I'm right here. We got you out of there, remember? You're safe."

His words are like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge. I focus on his face, on his eyes. They're calm, steady, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind.

"Breathe with me, Johnny. In and out. Just like that." He takes deep, exaggerated breaths, and I mimic him, slowly regaining control.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. Time has lost all meaning. But eventually, the panic subsides, leaving me exhausted and trembling. Ghost sits on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall, watching me with a mixture of concern and relief.

"See? You did it," he says with a small smile. "Toughest bloke I know."

I manage a weak laugh, the sound foreign and fragile. "Yeah, right. Some tough guy I am."

Ghost chuckles, shaking his head. "You are, Soap. Don't ever doubt that. You've been through hell and back, and you're still here. That's more than most could say."

I let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope, a small spark of strength. "Thanks, mate."

He shifted, sitting closer next to me on the cot. "You know, you always were the stubborn one," he said, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. "Never could keep you down for long."

I managed a weak chuckle, the sound foreign but welcome. "Yeah, well, someone has to keep you on your toes."
He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He stands up, stretching his legs. "Alright, Johnny. Now, how about we get some rest? Big day tomorrow, yeah?"

I nod, feeling a bit more like myself. As he turns to leave, he pauses at the door. "And if you need anything, you just holler. Got it?"

"Got it," I reply, my voice steadier now.

As he leaves, the room feels a little less oppressive, the darkness a bit less daunting. I lie back down, taking slow, deliberate breaths, focusing on the here and now.