>>6280454
>My wounded shoulder got worse and I suffered from a major infection all throughout my arm not long after. There was no other choice but to have it amputated. No longer fit for service, I was discharged and sent packing.

>>6280454
>I came across an American base. After relentless questioning for hours from commanding staff, I was dismissed and scheduled a psychiatric exam, I failed it and was sent back home.

>>6280454
>...cold, indifferent...

>>6280454
>I came across an American base, after relentless questioning I was patched up by a medical unit shortly after. I served the remainder of my time, the people and environment around me indifferent to what I experienced. Throughout the remainder of my time, something in my head stopped clicking the pieces together. I became cold, indifferent to everything around me.

>>6280454
>>I came across an American base, after relentless questioning I was patched up by a medical unit shortly after. I served the remainder of my time, the people and environment around me indifferent to what I experienced. Throughout the remainder of my time, something in my head stopped clicking the pieces together. I became cold, indifferent to everything around me.

>>6280454
>I came across an American base, after relentless questioning I was patched up by a medical unit shortly after. I served the remainder of my time, the people and environment around me indifferent to what I experienced. Throughout the remainder of my time, something in my head stopped clicking the pieces together. I became cold, indifferent to everything around me.

I became cold, indifferent to everything around me. Most personnel on base wouldn't even bat an eye in my direction right after I'd gone through hell, your friends die in front of you and the world just keeps turning anyways. The medical unit had patched up my shoulder, and over time I was able to move just as well as I could before that firefight, before all that shit happened in front of my eyes. It never really mattered though, something changed me, I stopped giving a shit about mostly everything.

Eventually, my service came to an end and it was time to pack up my shit and go. Only thing I ever remember myself thinking was thank fuck I hope this entire part of the world burns away. That was it, just a send off, no reward, no medal, no nothing. Shit doesn't matter anyway, why would I want some shiny gold for watching my friends die? For failing to save them? fuck that

TEXAS, 2003

I touched down back on American soil, back on my home states ground. My family were waiting for me with open arms, they never got the armful they wanted to receive. Sure I entertained the idea I was happy to be back, but I left the army in the first place knowing I did nothing, that I can't do jack fucking shit to have an effect on anything, on anyone for that matter.

The drive home was tense, quiet, part of me even kind of liked that. The less I had to talk in that moment the better things would be, or so I figured.

"Well, I know you just got back Cole. I'm wondering what's next for you, son.. what're ya gonna do with yourself now?" My father asked me.

>Something in the trades

>I'm gonna go back to school

>Nothing

>Other (write-in)

>>6280577
>Nothing

>>6280577
>Something in the trades
Maybe we'll do nothing, but let's get the old man off our back with a better answer.

>>6280577
>I'm gonna go back to school
Veteran struggling with severe PTSD around a bunch of college kids could be really interesting

>>6280577
>I'm gonna go back to school

You notice your dad looking at you through the reflection of the mirror as he asks what you plan to do. The fuck does it matter? You just got back home and you're already being asked what's next, bullshit.

"I'm probably gonna go back to school.. not sure for what," you tell your dad, shrugging your shoulders after the fact at his question.

Your father looks back at you with a sincere smile on his face, "we're proud of you, Cole," he says as him and his mother exchange approving looks with one another.

The car ride goes on for a while longer, eventually, you make it back to your place. Well.. your parent's place, technically you don't have one of your own yet. The passing sign of BURRBERRY DR providing you a nostalgic escape briefly of your time before the army. Your father helps you with your bags and in no time you have all your stuff packed and sitting in various spots around your room. It's just like how you remembered it, you only did the bare minimum of required time for your service, but it feels like forever since you've seen the four walls of your own personal room. Without any thought of what comes next, you collapse into the bed.

"Shit.. am I really gonna go to school?" You question yourself out loud, staring up at the barren, eggshell white roof of your bedroom. You twist around to the one side of your bed and unpack your small CD collection, you pop your Meteora cd into the disc tray of your radio and lay there listening to the album, wondering what your next move is.

>Look at college/university programs

>Go out for a walk

>Search job postings

>Other (write-in)

>>6280816
>Look at college/university programs

>>6280816
>Go out for a walk

>>6280816
>Go out for a walk
See how the town changed while we were gone.

Taking a walk might clear our head a bit. Real Emo Combat Vet Hours!

>>6280816
>>Go out for a walk
doomer night walk

Going out for a walk might clear your head, as though the hot and arid walk through that hellhole wasn't enough movement for a lifetime. You hop out of bed and look at yourself in your old, dusty standing mirror. Your lithe and muscular figure nearly unnoticeable to the uninitiated who don't know you (or at least see you with your baggy shirt on) if there's anything you've gained from being in the military it's having a bonafide sleeper build.

You run down the stairs and put on your Nike running shoes, "Just going out for a walk!" You announce to your parents, the response back is just an 'OK' in return.

Burrberry Dr, the street you grew up on for basically your entire life. Not much has really changed within the neighborhood itself, you even have mostly the same neighbors living around you from the ones you can see outside. The suburban environment is coated in the atmosphere of the hot summer sun pounding it's rays against the concrete ground. You decide maybe it'd be more exciting to see a bit more of the city beyond what you're sure has remained mostly the same near your own home. You decide to venture closer to the downtown area, the large stretch of sidewalk spanning on, and on, and on forever seemingly.

Making your way downtown, walking fast, faces pass of those you're unfamiliar with. The backdrop midway of the rural areas of your state, looking off into the span of the landscape before you, the beating hot sun casts its rays and causes the faraway distances to wave from the heat like a mirage. You blink and you see sandy, dusty ground. The brown surrounding of your area littered with bodies and painted red near your feet. You feel a phantom sensation gripping around your left ankle, looking down it's a hand.

"Help me.." a voice in your head quietly whispers, the grip getting tighter around your ankle.

You take deep breaths in and out, "What the fuck.." is all you can manage to say. You give your head a shake, you hear a bullet whizz by your skull, narrowly avoiding spraying your brain outside of your head.

>Roll a 1d20 to escape the vision
>DC is 19

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>6281069

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>6281069
>dt 19
Oh we’re fucked up fucked up

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>6281069

>>6281090
We did choose the untreated PTSD option.

>Highest roll = 15
FAILURE
Your sanity has decreased from 100% to 90%

You've spent enough time sealing your eyes shut. This couldn't possibly be real.. right? You give your head one more shake, some more bullets spray themselves, this time peppering your abdomen. It feels so real! The pain causes you to flex your entire body trying to contain a scream.

"FUCK!" You cry out and fall to the floor, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Your heart seems like it's unable to keep up with the pace that you're breathing, the calm and rythmic beating of your previous heartrate now hammering in your chest.

"Cole.." ..... "HELP!!" ..... "I love you, Cole" ..... "I'M FUCKIN' HIT! ..... "You're the sole survivor of that battle?" ....... "YOU'RE NOT SHIT, YOU WILL NEVER BE SHIT, NEW RECRUITS LIKE ALL OF YOU WILL BE PUSHED TO YOUR LIMIT AND IF YOU AREN'T I WILL PERSONALLY SEE TO IT YOU ARE!" .... "You expect us to believe that story, Private Everhart?"

A mix of different voices and visions take hold of your mind.

"Kid! Kid, snap out of it!" Your body feels like it's being shook. "Goddamnit.. why are you all just staring?! Call 911!", a deep and masculine voice yells near you.

Your eyes snap open and in an ever decreasing volume, you close your mouth from what seems to be you in the fetal position screaming on the ground. In front of you is a beefy, round, somewhat older looking dark skinned man, his graphic t-shirt is white with a black & white picture of 50 Cent on it. "Damn kid, what the fuck is goin' on with you.. you alright?" He asks you, one hand on your shoulder.

>Yeah.. (thank him)

>Quickly get up and run back home

>Get away from me!

>Other (write-in)

>>6281260
Damn I didn't mean for that to all be in italics.. just the voices in your head

>>6281260
>Yeah.. (thank him)
Homie here saved us from our rolls, so it's the least we can do.

>>6281262
Formatting fails happen. Don't sweat it. ChatGPT is good for doing a tag-sweep before posting, I find.

>>6281260
>Yeah.. (thank him)

>>6281260
>>Yeah.. (thank him)

>>6281260
>Quickly get up and run back home
May not be the best idea for people to know we’re fucked

You focus your vision on it's proper surroundings. The crowd watching you is mostly just high school kids going home from school, there's a couple adults and mostly everyone seems to be looking at you like you're some sort of tweaker.

"Yeah.. I'm ok, thanks," you tell the man, your gaze avoiding his eyes and looking straight at the ground instead.

He sighs and helps you back up on your feet, "don't sweat it, son, you were screaming for a good while there," he tells you with a worried expression painted across his face.

Fuck this is so embarrassing, and fucked up, and- and.. the afterglow and realization of all these people watching you in a very private moment hits you, tears well up in your eyes once again though you try to stifle them. Without any warning you leave the man who had helped you after thanking him, you race back home as quickly as possible.

When you arrive, dinner is ready and your mom calls out to you, "Cole dinner's ready now.. it's your favorite!" She exclaims, her voice cheery and and unaware of what you had just gone through.

>I'm not hungry right now

>Sit and eat with your parents

>Other (write-in)

>>6281375
>Sit and eat with your parents

>>6281375
>Sit and eat with your parents

>>6281375
>>Sit and eat with your parents

>>6281375
>>Sit and eat with your parents

You take a seat anyway, pulling out the chair and sitting across from your parents. Your mom really put herself to work for all this! Steak, potatoes, and veggies, though that might just sound like the essentials the way it's all plated really must have taken some time to perfect and add a nice touch to it.

They both take a moment to look at you, smiling as they do so. Uh oh, you know what's about to happ-

"Cole, we got a surprise for you while you were out," your father tells you, he takes another bite of his food. "Go up and take a look in your room when we're done here, don't worry about helping with anything we just want you to relax," he finishes saying.

Unsure of how they want you to react, you think of how someone else might've, or how you would've before the army. "Thanks guys.." is all you can manage before you resume eating.

Dinner passes by quickly and your dad encourages you to go upstairs and look at what's apparently so different now. You make way for your room, going up the stairs and coming to your bedroom door. When you open the door you see it in all it's glory, is that... a computer?! You've always wanted one for your own personal use.

You decide to crack open the case and take a look at the parts inside. Your dad definitely got this one custom built, it's packing some serious power in here! A Pentium 4 motherboard & processor, 512x2 DDR1 RAM, and a Geforce FX 5500! You put the case back on, with now having a personal PC it'll make finding information out much easier, maybe you could even play some games or fuck around online to distract yourself from this living nightmare.

>Use the computer to search serious things (college/university programs, job postings, write-in)

>Use the computer to have a good time online (miscellaneous things that will restore some sanity, high rolls will cause interesting things to happen)

>Workout in your room

>Just go to bed

>Other (write-in)

>>6281505
>>Workout in your room
nothing like the doomer room workout of pushups, situps, crunches, burpees...

We didn't really have a workout before our PTSD attack desu

>>6281505
>Use the computer to have a good time online (miscellaneous things that will restore some sanity, high rolls will cause interesting things to happen)

>>6281505
>Workout in your room

>>6281505
>
>Use the computer to search serious things (college/university programs, job postings, write-in)
>Workout in your room
Get really into men's fitness communities online.

>Workout
>Use the computer

Fuck it, there's not much else to do but workout and go online. You don't really need any instructions as the way they worked you to the bone in boot camp is still pretty fresh in your mind. You start off by doing some pushups, followed by burpees. A few sets of each exercise and then you're off doing double leg crunches, the sweat pooling around you on the floor slowly a sign of your hard work and dedication. You get up off the floor from doing your exercises and cool down by shaking yourself off on the spot.

"YOU CALL THAT A PUSHUP PRIVATE?!" A voice echoes in the back of your head, you brace yourself for what's to come.. nothing happens beyond hearing that.

You take a deep sigh of relief, it doesn't work to completely rid you of all your tension just from that though. "Shut the fuck up," you tell the imaginary voice.

Now that your workout is finished it's time to get this bad boy working. You press the power button and are greeted with the Windows '95 operating system. You start using the internet to look at funny pictures, something called 'rage comics' is making the rounds on some of the sites you visit, you don't completely understand them but a couple get a chuckle out of you.
Your sanity has increased from 90% to 91%

Time to search up more serious things, you told your dad about your intentions to go back to school, even if it was kind of a lie, you should at least be able to give yourself a alibi incase he asks about that. Looks like there's some programs being offered in the fall a couple months from now.

>Look into the fine arts programs

>Look into the business programs

>Look into the trade programs

>Other (write-in)

>>6281784
>Look into the business programs

>>6281784
>Look into the trade programs
We’re already familiar with getting our hands dirty. Plus, trade jobs usually pay well.

>>6281812
I figured with business we could maybe get not security or something.

>>6281826
I see the vision, but considering our current…circumstances, perhaps being in a security profession or any profession with a weapon might not be the wisest move.

>>6281784
>Look into the fine arts programs
It's time to make deranged PTSD art! Artists are all insane so our tortured soul will help us out greatly, and maybe if we get popular enough we could lead to some anti-war and psychiatric advances, or get whacked by glowies.

>>6281784
>>Look into the fine arts programs
We need to see if art school is our thing or not.

You look into the fine arts programs, seems there's a few different departments at the state university being offered.

There's the department of art history, this one seems.. less eccentric. It mostly goes over the history and rigorous standards of modern art institutions, what kind of a job will this land you after you're done? You're unsure, but goddamn if it isn't at least something.

The music department seems incredibly in-depth. During your time in the army, you took up playing the acoustic, you weren't really very good but you could play a few songs. Some practice in a program may not be so bad, there are scholarship options for those who have been practicing for quite a while and applications for those who aren't under a scholarship.

Finally, there's the department for theatre and dance.. you're almost 100% positive you should be a competent actor. You've been acting like you give aren't some cold, empty husk since you've arrived home and that's been going ok so far. This is probably the fruitiest one and you're not too sure about being front and centered on a stage after what happened outside today. The pictures seem to present that this is the most even ratio of babes being in the program, and ugly chicks too. You can't see many dudes being there but that may not necessarily be a bad thing.

"I don't fucking know, man.." you tell yourself, chewing on a fingernail. The cost of the application and admission wouldn't do TOO much damage to your bank account, you'd still have some cash saved up. Fuck this is starting to get to you, just make a decision already you incompetent bastard.
Your sanity has decreased from 91% to 86%

>Apply for the Art History program

>Apply for the Musical Performance & Theory program

>Apply for a B.F.A in the Acting program

>I don't want any of these
Sanity will go down from 86% to 83%

>Let me take a look at what else there is
Sanity will go down from 86% to 85%

>>6281918
>Apply for the Musical Performance & Theory program

>>6281918
>Apply for a B.F.A in the Acting program
For the babes!

>>6281918
>Apply for the Musical Performance & Theory program

>>6281918
>Apply for a B.F.A in the Acting program
Under the pseudonym of Barry Block, of course

File: losing my mind at an alar(...).webm (1.32 MB, 640x480)

1.32 MB WEBM

I'll give it one more hour for a tiebreaker before I update.

It's a tie.. update incoming

>It's a tie..
Part 1/2
I can't make up my mind!
Your sanity has decreased from 86% to 85%

You only just got home, why are you even doing this? You can feel the pressure building in your skull.

"Come on.. come on, you fucking freak," you tell yourself, freezing and staring at your reflection in the monitor.

The pressure overwhelms you! Tears come bursting out as you feel something within you slip. You push yourself away from the screen, nighttime outside had slowly creeped in throughout your duration on the computer. The screen illuminates the room, in it is the shadow of a pathetic man who can't do anything. Whatever.. there's still time to turn things around, right?
Something within you seems like it's permanently gone! In it's wake you're now left with a maximum of 85% sanity.

"Cole, are you ok?" A woman says from your bedroom door.

You immediately stand right back up, your eyes focusing.. trying to find who that voice was coming from. Turning towards the door you see the somewhat athletic figure of a woman, her blonde hair spilling down to her shoulders. She gives off a warming aura, you feel like you know her.

She comes inside the rest of the way when you're close enough, her blue eyes looking right through your eyes and into you. "You know I care about you, you don't have to be alone.." she says, standing idly and close by you.

"Hannah? That's not possible.. I watched you die out in that hellhole, I'm sorry," you tell her, looking up pitifully. She only shakes her head in response.

Her finger presses against your lip, "it's ok, I'm here now," she says, her lips connect with yours and you both share a passionate kiss. The minutes go on for what seems like forever, until you both finally pull away from each other, she looks at you smiling.

"Baby, it's you and me now.. she says to you, she backs away in that moment and softly goes down the staircase to your front door.
You've gained the passive: 'One More For My Baby', Allowing you to reroll any one time during a thread

Part 2/2

The morning sun quickly shows it's face in what feels like an instant. You wake up and look groggily around the room, seems like you passed out right in front of your bedroom door. You never did end up deciding.. though you think you're definitely leaning towards a couple ideas to tell your dad. That may not be a good thing though, you're unsure how they'll react to you coming back and hearing about wanting a career in art.

"Whatever, it's not the end of the world.." you say to yourself, getting up and ready for a new day. It's not really a rush to jump right into a career path, but you should decide relatively soon before it's too late to register.

You step out of your room and take in the smell of your mothers breakfast. The aroma of bacon and French toast fills the air, you can hear her humming as she continues the final touches on her work. "Cole! Breakfast is almost ready, come down." She says, going right back to work immediately after.

Gathering around the table with your parents, they're both smiling at you pleasantly. "You've always been our greatest achievement in life," your father tells you as he proudly puts his hand on your shoulder. "Brave, you're the family's pride as far as I'm concerned, just like your grandfather was when he served," he finishes telling you.

Tears stream down your mothers face as she only looks halfway at you, "I'm just so happy you're back.." she tries to contain herself, it doesn't work out very well and she still bursts into tears. "You had me worried sick!" She yells and goes to hug you immediately. Her warm and aged body still feels like it always had, the nostalgic memories of being held as a young boy briefly flashes in your head, providing a warm respite from your cold inner thoughts.
Your parents are currently beyond proud and happy for you!
You feel as if they have softened up quite a bit around you, making them more resistant to seeing you in a bad state or making bad decisions.

Everyone pulls themselves together. You all share a laugh and take your seats once more, your mother passes around the food after wiping away the stray tears in her eyes. Your father smiles at you from across the table, "did you end up looking at courses, Cole?" He asks you.

>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.

>No, I need more time.

>Other (write-in)

>>6282128
Oh no. Oooh no.

>>6282139
>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.
Let's be decisive before we take another permanent hit to our sanity.

>>6282128
>You've gained the passive: 'One More For My Baby', Allowing you to reroll any one time during a thread
I’m begging the thread not to use this unless we roll a worst case scenario.
>>6282139
>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.

>>6282139
>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.

>>6282139
>>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.
goddammit

>>6282139
>>Yes, I've narrowed it down to a couple things.

You prepare yourself, getting ready to announce you are wanting to go into the fine arts program U of Texas. Uncertain of how your parents will react to this info, you gather they're probably expecting you to say something like, engineering, or a trade of some kind.

"I've narrowed it down to a couple programs," you tell them, they're sitting on the edge of their seat.

Your father shuffles around in the chair, "well don't keep us in suspense, son.. what are they?" He asks with a smile on his face.

Heh... you awkwardly adjust yourself, your brow becomes a little slick with the anticipation of just letting it out and telling them. "Well.. I'm leaning towards either the Musical Performance & Theory program, or the acting one, both are in the fine arts department at U of Texas," you tell them with a grin on your face, unable to determine if it's plastered on you from sheer nervousness or not.

Your parents look at each other straight faced for a moment, "oh.." is all that comes out of them, "well it's certainly not what we expected of you, Cole, what're you going to try and do with that?" They try to ask you as inoffensively as possible.

The stress begins to radiate under your skin, like you fucking know right? You just saw a couple pictures of some of the students with huge tits on them and a pretty face to match, the fuck does it matter anyway it's not like it's their money going into this. You shake your head in front of them, keep it together you spaz.

"Well.. uh, in all honesty I think I just need to explore more sides of myself, I know you were both probably expecting me to say a trade right?" You question them, trying to be charismatic and ending it with a laugh. It doesn't really land as well as you thought it would, they're both still just looking at you.

Your mother gives a half smile, "well we're just happy you're trying something," she tells you.

Your mothers reassuring smile puts a temporary ease to your unrest. The breakfast is interrupted when you hear a knocking on the door, a calm and rhythmic knock bounces off the wooden material of the door.

>Don't worry guys.. I'll get it

>Ignore the knocking

>Other (write-in)

>>6282405
>Don't worry guys.. I'll get it
Escape the awkwardness!

>>6282405
>Don't worry guys.. I'll get it

>>6282405
>Don't worry guys.. I'll get it

>>6282405
>>Ignore the knocking

You look over to the general area that the front door is in, "I got that, you can both keep eating," you tell your parents. You get up out of your chair and brush any crumbs that may be on your clothes off, for whatever reason you feel as if there's some anxiety caught in your throat, you're currently having some trouble breathing. You try to not let it get to you, what's there to be so nervous about anyway?

You open the door and your eyes shoot wide open, "Hannah.. what're you doing here?" You say to the woman standing in front of you.

Hannah's long blonde hair flows as the breeze shoots past it, her red summer dress accentuates her curves well. She's in great shape, the tone of her body no doubt a result of her training in the army. Her full breasts and wide hips are wrapped around the dress well, though not in a way that's skintight and may seem risky to be in.

"You invited me over for breakfast, remember last night?" She tells you, smiling widely as she looks at you.

Hannah leans in for a kiss and you likewise give in to your natural response and go for it. You both share just a quick peck before you look back behind you, ensuring your parents aren't nearby to hear the conversation. "I.. I invited you over for this? There's only three plates though," you tell her.

She just shrugs at being left out, "it's ok, I'm not very hungry right now anyway.. so can I come in?" She asks you.

Something about this doesn't feel right, but no matter how much you shut your eyes and reopen them, Hannah is still standing in front of you.

"Cole? Who's at the door?" Your father asks from the kitchen.

"Hello, Mr.Everhart!" Hannah shouts back in response, your dad doesn't say anything back.

>Roll a 1d20 to come to your senses
>DC is 18

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>6282587
These DTs are killer lmao

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>6282587
WAKE UP, COLE

>>6282587
You could say these DCs are... insane.

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>6282596
and of course I forget to roll

>>6282596
kek

>>6282598
not kek :(

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>6282587
Fuck it we ball.

>Highest roll = 17
FAILURE

Writing the update now...

Part 1/2

After one more repeated effort, shut your eyes, open them.. hold on. Shut, open, "you're still here," you say to Hannah.

She just gives you a confused look, "uh.. yeah? Where else would I be?" She asks, laughing afterwards at your confusion. "You're not gonna be one of those guys who just ends up using me are you? Did our kiss not mean anything last night?" She asks, giving a coy smile.

Before you have time to answer she brings her finger up and places it against your lips, shushing you from saying anything further. Without any further discussion she walks inside and heads straight to the kitchen where your parents are, "wow it's just how I expected it to be," you hear her say from afar.

You stay still in that moment, your gut clenches with anxiety, something about this doesn't feel right. This is reality though, isn't it? You question yourself for a moment, the grainy, brown dust kicking up in the air as you look off into the arid wasteland. You shut the front door to the house, through the reflection the scenery outside changes back into the green, suburban environment.

Walking into the kitchen you notice that Hannah is already seated on the opposite end from you, between your two parents as well. "Someone special? Sure took your time, Cole," your father asks you.

You scratch the back of your head reluctantly, Hannah is giving you a weird look as if she's wondering why you haven't introduced her yet. "Mom, dad.. this is Hannah, my girlfriend I met during my service," you tell them.

Your parents just look at each other, and back to you. You're right at her, why are they not saying anything? Your mothers expression on her face twists into one of confusion, "honey, there's nobody here.." your mother tells you. She gets up out of her chair and gets closer to you, looking you right in the eyes. You notice her recoil back slightly, as if she's surprised from what she noticed.

"Cole.. it's going to be ok," your father says warily, also getting up from his chair and slowly moving towards you, pulling your mother away slightly.

You look at them both confused, "why aren't you saying anything to her? She's right here?" You ask them.

You're unsure why, but you're crying. The tears flowing down your face, your parents both look at you worried, "well.. come on, introduce yourselves! You're embarrassing me guys!" You yell at them, moving to the chair that Hannah is seated at.

She stands up next to you and gives you a hug, "it's ok, baby.. they might warm up to me," Hannah whispers to you, her finger wipes away some of the tears streaming down your face.

Your mother looks over at your dad, you can't really read her lips but it seems as if she's asked your dad what they're supposed to do, your father only shrugs in response.

Part 2/2

The rooms grows hot, unnaturally so for the indoors. Your vision completely blacks out in mere moments, when it comes back you notice the choking sun, it's radiance over the cloud tops and the rays contributing to the hot environment around you. As things currently stand, there hasn't been any sighting of the enemy so far today. Looks like another boring day of playing guard duty, and waiting for some action that will never come.

You take a seat on the brown, dusty ground next to Hannah, your girlfriend you met during your boot camp training. "Looks like another day of working on my tan," she tells you, laughing at her own joke.

The squad leader rolls his eyes when he walks up and hears her joke, "quit it with the lovebird shit you two, you're on duty and anything can happen at any time, ON YOUR FEET!" He commands, and like the trained dogs you both are, you listen to him. Immediately sprawling off the ground and standing on point.

He just shakes his head in disappointment at the both of you, "recruits like you are dead weight to those of us who ha-" a bullet whizzes by and explodes through the center of the leaders skull, blood and stray brain matter soak the ground and are quickly absorbed by the Earth. Hannah lets out a shrill scream before another bullet, with seemingly expert precision, goes straight through her eye and out of the back of her head. She falls to the ground limp, mouth hanging open as the ground absorbs the life essence of both soldiers slowly.

A siren begins blaring, US troops scrambling out of the newly made posts and onto the ground, looking for where the enemy is picking some of them off. You lay there, face splattered with the blood of your commanding leader and girlfriend, absently minded. The screams of more dying soldiers is accompanied with your other brothers-in-arms fighting an emerging army of the enemy from the hillside.

You can't feel anything, the dead bodies litter the ground around you, the Earth begins pulling you inside of it, sinking you down into it's core. You let out a defeated, and shrill scream.

Jumping out of bed screaming, you look around the sterile environment in front of you, the padded room with a camera in the corner pointed at your bed clicks it's red signal off, and a female doctor emerges from the door to your room.

"Mr.Everhart, I'm Marissa Tremblett, staff psychologist here at Texas Medical Center," she introduces herself.

>Where am I?

>What happened?

>Did you save me from that shithole?

>Other (write-in)

>>6282761
>What happened?

>>6282761
>What happened?

>>6282761
>>What happened?

>>6282755
Oh god, uh, maybe acting class right now is a bad idea. Let alone oicking uo a big titty drama girl.

>>6282761
...Not that we have a choice.

>"Am I going to be okay?"

>What happened?
>Am I going to be ok?
Part 1/2

What the hell? What happened, you were on the battlefield and now suddenly you're back at a hospital in your home state.

"What happened to me?" You ask the psychologist, she just stands there stoically.

With a sigh she puts the clipboard on the plastic table near the doorway. "Is it ok if I call you Cole? I read your file, you fought in Iraq, huh?" She says in an impressed tone. "The short version of what happened.. you suffered an hallucination from your untreated PTSD. The longer version, why don't you tell me about yourself first?" She says, pulling up a chair near the bed.

She takes a seat near the bed you're laying on, smiling for a brief moment. "You're a handsome guy, got a girlfriend?"

You put your hands over your eyes, fuck your head is killing you. Especially at the idea of Hannah, "yeah I d- no.. I think so?" You say confused, your mind is still a haze as you adjust to the reality around you.

"Well, your parents brought you here, Cole. Said you were seeing a woman who wasn't actually there, than you dropped to the floor and started screaming.. people dying everywhere. Does that sound familiar?" Marissa asks you, she picks the clipboard back up and takes out a pen.

You sit up halfway with your back against the padded out wall. "Yeah.. starting to come back to me I guess. Am I going to be ok?"

The psychologist scoffs, than quickly covers her mouth. "Sorry.. but you won't be if you continue to not treat your mental health, you're going to stay here for a little bit and we're going to build a file, after which I will contact a therapist in your area. You will be assigned, you do not have a choice in the matter, understand?" She asks firmly.

You let out a defeated sight, "yeah.. I get it," you tell her.

>>6283006
Part 2/2
"Good," is all she says back in response.

Marissa pulls out a separate sheet of paper and begins writing down on it. "So.. Cole Everhart.. infantry in US army..." she mutters under her breath as she begins writing down on her paper.

"Aren't you gonna.. you kno-" you're cut off by her

"How close were you and Hannah?" She asks instead.

You look away from her for a moment, digesting the question. The very subject of that girl makes your head spin, in the corner of your eye you can see her leaning up against the wall in this room, she gives you a wink and a thumbs up.

"She was my girlfriend.. not for very long," you tell Marissa, "saw her killed right in front of me," you finish.

Marissa looks at you troubled, "I'm so sorry Cole, I can't even begin to imagine what seeing that would be like," she tells you.

>I saw everyone I know killed in front of me

>I've been having hallucinations and seeing things often now

>[SANITY: 85] Hannah.. help me out here?

>Other (write-in)

>>6283010
>Write-in.
>I saw everyone I know killed in front of me. And now I've been having hallucinations and seeing things often.

>>6283028
+1
lmao

>>6283010
>Other (write-in)
I don’t think we should play our cards so loosely

Instead, just say we’ve been having some anger issues, and occasionally we hear a voice of someone who died

>>6283361
More like terror issues than anger, but covering insecurity with anger is a very macho thing to do. +1

>>6283010

Line to get milk was pretty long. Sorry guys, writing the update now.

You look away from Marissa, she withdraws the pen writing on the clipboard for a moment and places a hand over top of yours. "We're here to help you, not to contain you, Cole," she starts. "I'm just trying to get as much info about any trauma you may have experienced during your life so far," Marissa finishes explaining.

Hannah scoffs, hiding away still in the corner of your room and observing your conversation. "I saw everyone I know killed in front of me, now I've been having hallucinations as if I was still there," you tell Marissa.

"Are you prone to violent episodes?" The psychologist asks you, you simply shake your head in response.

"I mean, I haven't hurt anybody yet. If anything it's me and the people who are already dead who are being acted out on," you explain in response. Marissa simply continues to jot down what you're saying onto her notes.

She puts it all down, facing the clipboard paper side to the table as to hide what she's written so far. "I don't believe you're a threat to anyone, I'm hoping we've snubbed the worst of it from happening, I will be sending a reference for a therapist in your area to your parents within a couple business days," she explains, inviting you off the bed and outside the room. You take the opportunity and she allows you to collect your things from the security desk. You see your parents away in a waiting room, beyond the containment walls of the padded area to the hospital's mental health wing. Marissa places a hand on your shoulder, "stay strong, Cole, there's always a choice to everything you do in your life," she finishes before waving you goodbye.

Walking out the doors of the mental health facility, your parents jump out of their seats and give you a big, collective hug. "We were so worried about you!" Your mother exclaims, on the verge of sobbing herself. Your father motions his head towards the doorway, you all exit the building and it's a silent car ride back home. You mention you'll be directed to a therapist soon, your parents seem in agreement that's what seems to be the best idea for you with what you got going on. Despite your reluctance, you somewhat feel the same.

The car ride back home is done, you silently make your way back up to your room, as if your time in the hospital had never even happened in the first place. "What's the next move, Cole?" Hannah asks you, pacing back and forth in front of your vision.

>The next move is being patient and getting you out of my head

>Come to a decision about which program to take for school

>Workout

>Other (write-in)

>>6283779
>>Workout
Ultimately it clears our head and tires us out. Just like Travis Bickle, we can't let our body go to waste

>>6283779
>Workout

>>6283779
>>Come to a decision about which program to take for school

File: what the fuck.webm (1.95 MB, 480x850)

1.95 MB WEBM

>No bug killer yet

>>6283779
>Come to a decision about which program to take for school

>>6284114
Holy shit, stingless bees build actual xenomorph hives, huh?

>>6283779
>Come to a decision about which program to take for school

QM?

>>6283779
>Come to a decision about which program to take for school