The house was cold. Floorboards icy, icicles dropping down from the icy puddles on the roof, sliding down into the frozen earth below.
The bell rang, loud and empty, a chiming mess that echoed throughout the empty rooms. Russia held his head, the ice fragmenting and spreading across the shelves of books, frost creeping across the bare walls. Sunflowers, in a vase, were wilting, their petals dropping off out of their own sort of sadness.
Russia held his head. His head was cold. Everything was so cold. His breath was icy, pinpricks of pain erupting with each inhale, a shakier inhale by the next and so on. He stopped, needles in his hands as they sat in their mittens like dead bodies. His eyes stared dully at the same spot for a few seconds, stuck on a spot that meant nothing.
It all began.
The air began to change, suddenly yet slowly losing heat, losing energy, losing
hope.
Russia began to breathe harder, his lungs hitting against his ribs. He felt something against his coat, frozen and wet. Cold. There were vibrations. He could only feel the wood with his legs through his pants, hands numb to the touch. A thud. It was
A war, a fight, a lustful dance that he was stuck in, a charade he was meant to play, a shout, a curse, a horrible yell, a villain, all
in one small step. It began again and again. He heard them getting closer, swallowing his own saliva, trying to clear his throat, his fear building a primal instinct to scream.
Her shoes were mary janes, small and pointed, to the point. Like she was. She strolled down the hall, lips parted, hair bouncing as she walked, velvet swimming around her.
He loved her.
Of course he did. She was his little sister, and he wanted to protect her. He wanted to hold her, tell her, praise her for all that she did. They were similar. Both
obsessive maniacs.
Russia didn't like to face that. He didn't want to be like that. He couldn't help it.
She was at the door now. The way that the steps stopped, her breath on the lock. He locked the door on her.
The way everyone would interact, Russia couldn't understand it. He'd been alone for too long. His mouth would stay a smile. That's what people liked, right? He smiled, they would be scared. What was he supposed to do?
"r u s s i a....."
Glass shattered into tiny bits, screaming in still air. He caught his breath, not daring make a sound. The room darkened.
"russia, why did you lock the door? do you not
LOVE...... me?"
He wouldn't breathe. His chest was begging for air, but he wouldn't. He heard her by the door,
scraping slowly, nails sharp and long. She breathed again, taking his room in from the small door. It was him that she craved.
Russia didn't understand it. She was clingy and whiny when she was younger, but why him? Why was he of interest? Not much scared him. He'd been through countless wars and yet this unnerved him. He wasn't afraid of anything, not even the collapse of his own country. But this
