Simon "Ghost" Riley: Dysmorphia

In the high-pressure world of military operations, a soldier battles dangerous inner demons far more terrifying than any enemy combatant. Plagued by severe body dysmorphia and self-hatred, her struggle threatens both her career and her life. When her absence from critical briefings catches the attention of her superiors, Ghost - the enigmatic Lieutenant with demons of his own - is sent to investigate, uncovering a devastating crisis that will challenge everything he knows about vulnerability and connection.

Simon "Ghost" Riley: Dysmorphia

In the high-pressure world of military operations, a soldier battles dangerous inner demons far more terrifying than any enemy combatant. Plagued by severe body dysmorphia and self-hatred, her struggle threatens both her career and her life. When her absence from critical briefings catches the attention of her superiors, Ghost - the enigmatic Lieutenant with demons of his own - is sent to investigate, uncovering a devastating crisis that will challenge everything he knows about vulnerability and connection.

Mirrors were just another reminder of the imperfections and insecurities that gnawed at her, so she avoided them. She refused to look at herself in the mirror. It was too...too everything.

You have a double chin. You have arm fat. Your thighs touch and rub together. You have a stomach. You're not attractive, and people don't talk to you. People don't choose you first, only as a place holder. So why are you even alive?

She gripped her head in her hands, silent tears streaking down her cheeks as she felt disgusted. Her existence, her body...all of it was more rancid and foul than any piece of trash, more undesirable and undeserving of love than the worst of human life. The fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on her features as her heart physically seized in her chest with every broken sob that racked her body.

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself...

make it stop...make it stop...somebody, please...

[Meanwhile...]

"Where is she? Not like her to miss out on more than one briefing, especially without notice," Captain Price's tone was firm, even as it held an undeniable layer of concern. The scent of pipe tobacco lingered in the air of his office as he looked up from his paperwork.

"No idea, Captain. Haven't seen her since before breakfast. Seemed alright then," Ghost responded dryly, his arms crossing over his chest. Even though she barely touched her food. Maybe just an upset stomach.

"Well alright then, Lieutenant. Since she's your direct report, she's your responsibility. Looks like you get to go investigate." Price's lips quirked up slightly at one corner before returning his attention back to the paperwork sprawled out on the desk before him.

"You mean interrogate the poor lass. Give her a break, LT," Soap cut in, raising his hands in a placating gesture as Ghost narrowed dark brown eyes at the Sergeant. The sound of distant laughter from the mess hall drifted down the corridor.

Ghost rolled his eyes before muttering a gruff, "She'll survive." He uncrossed his arms before walking with measured strides towards the barracks.

Once he found her quarters, he rapped on the door with gloved knuckles. Silence, then a ragged, broken sound that sounded uncomfortably close to a sob. He frowned and knocked again.

"It's Ghost. You missed another briefing today," the Mancunian rumble through the wood barely registered before the rattling of the doorknob, and she fumbled to try to piece herself together before the Lieutenant could see her current state.

"Lieutenant, hang on, wait, I-I'm changing-" She lied, trying to scrub at her marked skin and tear blotched face.

"You act like I haven't seen women in a bra before. We're soldiers and there's no excuse why you have been absent so much-" Ghost stepped into her quarters and froze in his tracks as he took in the sight before him, swallowing hard.

Broken glass from the mirror lay scattered like shattered crystal shards on the bathroom floor, with the occasional blood splatter dotting the clear surfaces. But what had made him pause was the curled up woman, disheveled hair and red rimmed eyes staring back at him, with almost unintelligible scrawl crudely inked onto her skin with a marker.

Fat. Fat. **Fat.* The word was smudged across her abdomen that had the slightest hint of pudge - a healthy amount, especially with how active the military life kept its soldiers.

Ugly. Marker was dragged messily across her thighs that trembled with fear, her hands trickling droplets of crimson and shaking as they remained curled tightly against her chest.

Unloveable. Scribbled like a damning brand on her chest, smearing down her skin from her tears dripping from her chin.

Fucking hell...so this...this is why she had been refusing to eat much lately. The reason she had been missing briefings lately. She had been fighting her own inner demons and not said a damn word.

"..." Ghost inhaled slowly through his nose as he processed the sight before him, gloves creaking at his sides. He didn't do emotions, let alone this depth of them. But this....this was a level of raw pain and vulnerability that he knew he couldn't ignore, couldn't walk away from.

Not when she looked at him with those beautiful eyes that begged him to stay. That pleaded for someone to choose her first, for the first time in her life.