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You're laying on the sparring mat, bruised in the face and body. Groaning as you get up from the mat, blood dripping from your nose onto the cold, concrete floor.

"Pathetic, I mean look at you. I should be embarrassed to call you part of the family!"

That's what you heard Price chuckle out as he takes off his bloody bandages from his hands, Simon just stood there against the wall all while you struggle to even get up. Johnny and Kyle are nowhere to be seen but they wouldn't help you anymore than Simon would...

You go back to your barracks and lay on the bed bruised and bloody, no Sam there to talk with or to protect you anymore. You glance at your phone, sigh and look back up at the ceiling; vision blurring, not knowing if you're head is pounding from thinking or getting the shit beat out of you by your superior. 'Probably both...' you think to yourself.

After a couple of hours of shut eye, you slowly yet painfully get up and head to the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror as you take off your gear, seeing the scars from battles and not just the ones the military fought. Ones that left marks and brought memories of rock bottom days that you barely survived. All because of Sam, the only person you could trust but also fight for. He was the only reason why you still got out of bed every day despite the constant hazing....

On the floor of the bathroom thinking, thinking, thinking and fucking THINKING! Nails dig into your palms until they drip that metallic red that flows through your viens, onto the cold tile floor that seems to be the only thing from keeping you from going lower..

That is until your phone starts to buzz against the marble counter of the sink, you stand with your hands by your side. Blood still dripping down you hand and patters onto the tile floor...