Red Patches White Robes (RussiaXPrussia)

Innocence Bleeds

What the hell is this place. Is this my mind Im wandering, perhaps a lucid nightmare. A personal crate of needles and blood for me to drown in pain. What a simple way to put such a complicated emotion. Like hell I know what it is. I quivered as the pain shocked down my wrist, Thats right, its broken. I forgot in all this. I suppose its not even broken, sprained Maybe. Still, Its hardly woke me up from this trace of hate I was swirling into. Damn.

I kept hearing Toris's fit of tears behind me. It made me angry, like I wanted to shut him up just for one moment of peace. Nothing was going to help me but my letting it all out. Why cant I grasp that? Why can I just punch the living shit out of this cheap plaster wall before me. Break in its blood stained wall and let it bleed some more. All over the floor, A flood of revenge on this stupidity. Let me die.

I feel guilty, But I just cant stop trying to look for a way out. I could just kill it all away, not need anyone. Just live in a place where everything I don't need, I destroy. Shit, I should just start with my own pathetic self. let this dumb ass rot.

I bore my fingernails into the wallpaper, stiff like board I clenched its skin. "Im sorry." I cringed.

The crying sauntered off. "Sorry?" Lithuania blurbed. I gripped my soul and ripped away from the wall to face him. I moved out of place like a tin toy, wound by the slow hands of god.

"That I'm such a damn fuck up." I grit my teeth, bracing for the reaction that I had never really panned for. He just looked at me dead int he eyes with the most hard poker face to read. I went to say something else. What am I going to say. More and more thought filling my head but cut short.

"Sit down." I heard him whisper. Calmly to my surprise, I kneeled. I sat across from him in identical pose, but his head hung to the floor, while I focused on him alone.

"I think this is the right time." he whispered. "Don't ask any questions, just stay still. Don't cry." He peered at me from him lowly bangs that gave him a sad but powering ambience. What the hell mis he talking about, don't cry? My curiosity is digging into my head.

And like that, the story began. "There was a young boy born years ago in the dead of december. A cold place to come into, come in the cold hand he was set into." who is he talking about, I thought. But slowly, I just lost my train of thought, getting lost in the thoughts I had made.

"He was born into a dark world. A place where any innocence found, was stripped. The day he was born was left to die without a mother. Dead, before she could even witness her son. He was taken by the cruel hand of a twisted man. A man who believed in nothing but blood and steel. Leather and pain. His father, a twisted soul." Russia. I thought.

Russia. I looked down at my knees.

"Growing up was as you expected. Dreams and aspirations where formed in his mind, before they where squeezed from him piece by piece. Locked away in dark rooms. How young is to young to learn to murder. Never too late to learn thought his father." He looked up at me for a moment.

"Corpse after corpse, until every one of them was disposed of with a smile. His father wanted the perfect man, a man with no fear. He was succeeding rapidly. But there is always an optical." I leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

"His sister, with her he would always have his innocence. She filled his head with dreams. His father would not stand for this, it had to be destroyed before it could ruin his progress on his soldier. So he got rid of her innocence, and his." He paused, and took a breath.

The words sealed out with a grim tone. "She was raped. He was watching." he exhaled. "And there went his innocence."

"Malice and pain are his only mothers. And He lets others be the ones who satisfy his cruel desires."

"A crooked soul in a good mans body is a weapon of insane proportion you see." He whispered.

Russia. What the hell did they do to you. I muttered nothingness to myself under the light of Lithuania's tears patting the floorboards, until soon enough, they harmonized with my own.

What the hell happened. Russia, you make me want to die inside. But how do I die inside when I need to help you.

Losing is my passion. I can prove it.