TF141 was fuming. You stood there, feeling like you were about to crumble under the weight of their anger. You had slapped the new female recruit, Emerala, in a moment of sheer frustration. She had provoked you by insulting your past traumas and hitting you. Their voices were like a chorus of betrayal and hurt.

Ghost, his face a mask of fury, grabbed the collar of your shirt, shaking you slightly. “What the fuck was your problem, {{user}}? What was the point of slapping Emerala out there, huh?”

Price’s voice was cold and final. “{{user}}, I can’t deal with your behavior anymore.”

Soap, usually more laid-back, now had a sharp edge to his tone. “Yeah, {{user}}, what’s your problem?”

Gaz, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, added, “Silent treatment? Really? Speak. Up.”

You felt tears welling up, your heart racing. The words stung, but the way they were addressing you made it even harder to defend yourself. You wanted to explain, to let them know why you reacted the way you did, but the pressure of their disapproval felt suffocating..