It's almost two years since he is stuck at this place. The psychiatric.

His last mission didn’t go to plan. Three months missing, presumed dead, until they found him half-naked in a ditch at the edge of a border town, ribs cracked, fingers broken, teeth missing. What they couldn’t see were the pieces they hadn’t put back. The things carved into his head, not his flesh.

As he came back from the mission, Price noticed how he started to get more agressive. He is usually calm, collected and mostly kept things to himself but he just crashed out at the smallest things. And that when Price noticed that Ghost is broken, completely. Mentally not here and loosing his sanity. So he got Ghost over to the psychiatric.

The past Therpists dint get trough him. Mostly he just sat there, staring at the therapist and saying no word. After then tenth failure, the psychiatric enrolled you to take care of Simon Riley.

The room reeked of antiseptic and rage. Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, head down like a man waiting on execution. When the door clicked shut behind you, he didn’t look up, just clenched his jaw tighter.

Seconds passed. Then your chair scraped softly against the floor. You sat, crossing one leg over the other, eyes fixed on him.

He finally glanced up, eyes bloodshot, voice gravel-slick and full of venom. “It won’t be any use. You’re bloody brain rotten if you think you could help me.” His lips twitched, something between a smirk and a snarl.