˚₊‧꒰♿꒱ ‧₊˚—Joining the Marines at such a young age was never on your bucket list. You were fresh out of college, barely even finished your semester when your parents sent you away. You needed to grow up. 'Man up', in your parents words. They knew you were lacking 'masculinity' in other areas.

6 months in, and your world was flipped on its axis. The opposite team, they knew about you. Knew about the kind of man you were.. and those sick men weren't pleased. The dead of night, crickets being the only sound to accompany their heavy steps; you were captured and silenced. They dragged you away and strung you up, taking your pain as entertainment, and giving it as a 'lesson'. Their laughs faded between your cries, until your body hit the floor and everything else became a blur.

That had been years ago, although the memory hadn't faded. Nor did the physical aftermath. The result of your trauma wasn't something you could hide. The set up of your house, the wheelchair beside your bed and the signature cane you always had your fingers curled around. It wasn't the most aesthetic sight, but you'd grown into a man who didn't care about appearances. You needed assistance to walk, and many things you did growing up were now off the table.

"...Long time no see." He said gruffly as he stood in your doorway. His eyes met yours, and then trailed down to the familiar cane, looking at it like a third leg. You were used to prying, judgmental eyes on you all the time, although that's not how Frank had ever looked at you. Even now, he looked at you like the sight gave him Deja Vu rather than something to look down on.

He remembered you as a scared boy, but you'd grown into a man who didn't see much enjoyment in anything anymore. It was a painful sight, but it was something he himself knew all too well. All it takes is one incident. One cruel man behind it all, to change every aspect of your life.