Red Patches White Robes (RussiaXPrussia)

Carried Away

He let go of my neck and I gasped. I was so confused, but I knew what he was doing. He wanted to hear me scream. What had I done to myself. There's no way I'm leaving the same man. There's no hope of a recovery now, my light is dimming. I lied. Its already gone out. My shaking stopped with completes stillness as the cold still of a blade whispered my stomach. My eyes widened and I held my breath. I was praying that this was a message. That he was not going to really cut me open.

Speak of the devil. "Sorry for the tease, but I just cant wait to draw the first line." He smiled happily.

I hollered loudly, my vocal cords being ripped from my neck from the strain. The knife pricked into my skin, just above my belly button and I stoped screaming for a moment. He gave me a satisfied glare and began to drag upwards. i lost my mind, begging and crying.

"PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!" I shrieked. I could hardly scream anymore, I was crying so hard.

He kept ripping into my flesh, now at my solar plexus. "Whats that?" He sarcastically lent his ear.

"STOP!" I whimpered.

To my surprise, he stopped. I looked down at the fresh wound. The blood was slipping down my sides. every drop that slid down my skin felt like burning. I was quivering like mad. His hands placed themselves on my waist. I clutched my other hand as if it could bring me some comfort to my grieving mind. My thoughts where all disrupted as the cold slick of saliva flooded onto my torso.

I looked down at Ivan in shock. This man. This thing is the most sickening being I have ever known. Licking the blood from my cuts, Like a delicacy. I cringed and gasped as he grew to my face.

Suddenly I opened my eyes, he was un buckling the belt, I was free. He looked down an himself, a Small trickle of blood in his lips. He stood up, silently and turned his back on me. He wiped the blood from his lip and looked at it drop from his finger tip and onto the floor. I had no idea what was happening. I was so confused.

He quietly threw his coat over his shoulder and looked slightly back at me before leaving the room.

"Forget this."

I watched him leave. Entranced by what just happened I sat up against the bed. Who did I just see walk out? That was not Russia, that couldn't be him. I softly stood to my feet, only to fall backwards onto the mattress. I was to weak to do anything and it hurt to move. I squirmed in pain as wounds stretched. I placed myself on my side where no cuts would have pressure. Everything still hurt. I stopped thinking of Russia and started to think about the pain that filled my soul. I was beaten and broken, yet lucky. This was minor. I couldn't begin to imagine what he would have done to me if that strange pause never happened. I couldn't think of that anymore though, I was in to much agony.

Looking down at the linear carving on my torso, I graced my tromping hands over it. Like a thin canyon of flesh I barred open, still bleeding. I needed help, I was losing to much blood. I could barley scream, let alone move. My movements where becoming stale and my mind was blurring. All I was thinking was 'I'm going to die.' And maybe, I was. My vision was gathering into one solid colour, distorting my world. Just as my hands let loose any movement, and my eyes fluttered to rest,I felt like I was floating. I felt Like I was being carried away to heaven, weightless and unattached. In fact I was being carried away.

Slowly I let my eyes drift open, using the last of what spirit I had left. I was in the arms of Ivan, being lifted from the bloody mattress where I thought I would die. I suppose that was a lie. I will die in the arms of ivan perhaps. The arms of the anti Christ.