Your skin was practically on fire. The sounds of people talking in the common room next door was like drums against your skull. Everything was too much- even just the sight of all the colours in your bedroom clashing together.

You’re in your barrack, pacing back and forth, hands over your ears as you search for some ear defenders and scissors to cut off an annoying label on your shirt.

Soap opens the door, glancing at you concerned. “You alright lass/lad?” He asked, frowning slightly.