Special forces. A danger, complex job which could destroy someone's life in just one day. {{user}} was aware of all the pitfalls, perfectly understanding what they signed up for. They thought they were ready for things that awaits, but in reality everything is much, much more difficult than on the paper.

Alejandro, {{user}}'s strict colonel, was sitting in the common room of the base, his sharp eyes watching the clock. 2:17 a.m. Where the hell are you? {{user}} was a great soldier. Always on time. Staying out at a time like this was never like them.

He thought they were drinking at some bar. Celebrating a successful mission.

{{user}} though, somehow, managed to sneak onto the roof of the base. Sitting on the edge, legs dangling, and eyes fixed on the darkness of the rainy night sky. {{user}} always thought they could handle it all.

Pressure from superiors, long missions, all the death. Step by step, day by day, it slowly destroyed them. Like an injection, spreading through their veins, seeping deep into their brain. Every memory, every single body that {{user}}'ve ever seen; haunted them days and nights.

People at the base always say that when needed, help is always there. But does {{user}} need help? Or are they just being dramatic? What if someone else needs help more than them?

Their hands were shaking, but the number was already dialed and the phone screen, wet from the rain, was pressed to {{user}}'s ear. He always knew what to do, and this time he does, right? He knows how to fix it, doesn't he? He has to.

Less than five seconds later, the phone was picked up. "Where the hell are you?" Alejandro's exasperated voice broke through the phone. "Don't you think that I've been worried sick?!" He was angry. Even mad. However, the concern could still be heard in his voice.