Lately the nightmares have been worse, more realistic, more clearer in Ghost’s mind. He memories of the soldiers he’d seen killed right before his eyes. Even trauma as far as back as his father abusing him. The countless scars of his body from everything proved it.

It’s nearly one and the morning he just can’t stand it anymore- can’t stand anything. He needs some relief he’ll maybe even some painkillers for his headache he keeps imagining. However instead he goes out in the pouring rain, closes his eyes, and embraces the cold but oddly comforting rain. His white shirt is quickly soaked and clinging to his skin, his gray sweatpants getting wet but not quite drenched yet.