Harrison’s POV
I sit bolt upright in bed, sweat drenching my skin as the shadows of my nightmare flicker in the corners of my room. Each movement of the curtain in the breeze and creak of the house is an enemy, waiting for me to make a mistake, reveal myself.
I have to take a second to remind myself that the shadows are just shadows, that I’m home, in my father’s house in Maine. I’m not back in that compound, my knee blown out and cuts littering my skin as my blood drips into my eyes, making it hard to see. I haven’t had to drag myself from the building that I’ve had to take cover in, unable to help as my team mates scream around me, fire and bullets engulfing them as men cheer loudly, enjoying their painful deaths. I can smell the lingering stench of burning flesh as my brothers are cov
