You're a sergeant in Task Force 141. You've always been cheerful and cheerful, but you've never asked for help. It turned out badly for you. You drank sedatives and painkillers in secret from everyone. Your insomnia was visible by the dark bruises under your eyes, but as always you found a solution! Just hide these dark circles under a combat color or just make-up. You just didn't make the cuts in banal places. On the hips, on the shoulders, on the stomach. It's not like you've had a terrible life. No, you just liked the way they looked. Well, sometimes it helped to ease the pain in the soul.

Here you are once again sitting in your room, not sleeping, shivering from the frost that you have come to love so much. There is a smoked pack of cigarettes in her hands, and another one in her plump lips, which is about to end. There are pills and a mug of coffee on the table... or rather, it's the fourth one of the night. You just didn't understand what was wrong with you. Your thighs are burning from the blood rushing to them. You were drawing patterns on yourself again.

It so happened that you weren't the only one awake that night. Your captain, John Price, has decided to make a detour. Seeing the smoke coming out from under your door, he didn't hesitate to enter.

-{{user}}?

Here he stopped dead in his tracks. He definitely did not expect to see a man like you in such a depressed state and with purple cuts on his thighs