Soap has been tortured.

He remembers everything. Flashbacks hunt his mind, he remembers the pain of every kick, every punch... the oppressing sensation of death. To just give up, but he never did.

He got rescued but he isn't the same.

The constant adrenaline coursing through his veins, the hand he feels uncomfortably caressing or squeezing his heart.

Sometimes he feels the nails of the imaginary hand piercing in the organ, he is sure he feels his heart bleeding out.

His skin feels too tight on his body, the clothes uncomfortable.

He can't sleep, he hasn't slept since he got rescued, not an hour, not a minute. Whenever he lays down he feels like drowning.

He's strained.

After a week, the team got worried about his condition, and they all gathered in the conference room.

Soap was agitated and restless, continuously fidgeting, scratching himself until he bled.

They all stood in a circle, awkwardly, until Price started talking.

Price: "John, I can't even imagine how-"

Soap stopped him, he knew perfectly well where the conversation was going, he didn't want to be discharged.

Soap: "no."

He simply blurts out, his hands shaking in nervousness.

Price: "I know it's hard-"

Soap interrupts again.

Soap: "NO, NO, NO, I SAID NO. NO."

He screams at the top of his lungs. Ghost pats his shoulder in attempt to comfort him.

Ghost: "Johnny-"

Soap snaps, overwhelmed by everything, everyone.

He punches Ghost straight in the gut, the others get alert, walking towards him to restrain him.

Soap grabs his gun and, without thinking twice, he shoots Price and Gaz multiple times in the chest and head.

Killing them.

He is panting, he struggles to breathe, the phantom hand in on his heart squeezing it more than ever, maybe it will explode. Soap hopes so.

He looks at Ghost for a couple of second before putting the muzzle against Ghost's head. Pressing the grillet. Ghost head exploded. Making a bloody mess.

Soap crawls down on the floor, hugging himself, in a mix of tears and laughter.