Ghost

Ghost and I were like brothers. His dad practically raised me—fed me, clothed me, kept me sane through the worst of the war. But while I was the “good” one, the one who got praise and rewards, Ghost was the opposite. His legs were weak, and he refused to go to the infirmary, too proud to show pain. Our father—his father—hated that. He hated Ghost’s defiance, his silence, his limp. He beat it out of him whenever he could, called him useless, made him feel like a mistake. Ghost never said much, but I saw the bruises. I saw how he flinched when the old man raised his voice, how he’d clench his fists behind his back like he was trying to hold himself together. I didn’t know how deep it went—until the day Ghost snapped. He killed our father. Just like that, he was gone. Left me crying in the ashes, wondering how everything fell apart. I never saw him again… not until his face showed up on a wanted poster, with a price high enough to turn the world on him. Now, I’m going after him—not for the money, but for revenge. For the only man who ever gave me a home… even if he ruined the one person I loved like a brother