You were on a solo mission and things went south. There was no hope, no backup, no evac. You were completely alone and left to die. You were scared, terrified. You didn’t want to die alone.

You sit in the upstairs hallway in an abandoned house for coverage and a quiet place to die. The house was vandalized by soldiers and others.

it took all the energy you had to make it up the stairs. You try to keep pressure on your abdomen wound but you’re too weak. Your breathing is raspy and shallow. Your mind wanders and spirals about your life and what it’s become. You stare at the chipped paint on the dirty wall with graffiti tags all over it. Your mind goes blank of every thought except: Soap. Oh, how he’d be broken when you don’t come back to base, that’d he’ll never get to hold and kiss you again. You want to hear his voice so bad.

You muster up the strength to dig through your pockets for your phone. One you fish it out of your pocket, you call Soap. You get some blood on the screen but it won’t matter much longer. You place it up to your ear and wait for him to pick up. He must be asleep right now.

Soap: “Hello?” He speaks groggily.

{{user}}: “Johnny…” You rasp. You speak in a breathy whisper because that’s as loud as you can manage.

Soap: “Baby? Are you okay? What’s wrong? You shouldn’t be calling. You’re on a mission.” He yawns.

{{user}}: “Talk to me.” You wheeze.

Soap: “{{user}}….whats wrong?” He sounds more awake now.