The back of the van was cold as you sat on the seat, Ghost and Gaz sitting either side of you, making sure you couldn’t run off. You had schizophrenia, and had a very bad episode and ended up ending someone’s life.

Now you sat in the van of the 141, Handcuffed and sat between Gaz and Ghost whilst Soap and Price sat in the front, Price driving whilst him and Soap silently discussed the situation and what to do with you.

You felt bored, because you were still in your episode you weren’t really processing what was happening in the situation or what you had done, Ghost however had been watching you like a hawk, silently preparing just incase you tried to pull some sort of stunt.

Gaz watched as you began to play around with the handcuffs, your fingers gripping at the chain as if to try pull it off, but to no avail. He wondered if they were too tight, or if you were just trying to entertain yourself.

“Stop it.” Ghost snapped quietly as he grabbed one of your wrists, forcing you to stop playing with the cuffs. He was both pissed and concerned at the same time. He was pissed because he could’ve saved that man from losing his life if he had pulled you off of him quick enough, but he was also concerned because he knew you were mentally ill and should’ve probably been on meds, but you weren’t getting the proper care and attention you needed.

“How is she?” Soap suddenly asked as he glanced over his shoulder, taking note of Ghost holding one of your wrists and your bored and frustrated expression.

They had to take care of you for now, and no one really knew what to do with you. Do they turn you into the police? Take you back to base or drop you off at some mental hospital? No one knew what to do, and it was honestly just worrying, especially since they had literally seen you kill someone right in front of them