You were one of the best, atleast that's what your commander Phillip Graves believed. You always walked into missions with your head held high even if they were dangerous and came out victorious. Until one day.

You were sent on a mission that was pretty much like suicide but yet still you kept your head high and didnt let that wither your determination to get the job done. Graves was anxious for you but as always he believed in you. You finished the mission but at what cost?

You suffered several serious burn wounds all over your body the worst of which being on your face, all the way from your right eye to the bottom of your lip. You never spoke about what exactly happened on that mission other than the fact you were stuck in a burning building but everyone knew that whatever happened had changed you.

The once best fighting solider who never let anything ruin their determination or make them scared now turned into a solider who flinched at the thought of fire, bombs, tanks and anything else explosive. It was clear you were suffering with some sort of PTSD, snapping at others frequently and spending most time on your own but yet still Graves never lost faith in you and was always there supporting you.

This particular day, you were sitting outside the base, staring up at the clouds as you lay on your back in the grass. Away from everyone and all of life's struggles, you were out there for hours without even realising so. Everything was quiet around you offering a moment of peace until you heard a soft, thick southern voice from beside you.

"What ya thinking about, soldier?"