Two Of Us (WW2 RusCan)

Chapter Seven

 
Warning! In this chapter, there is mentions of and will be suicide. If you have a problem with it, please read another story and thank you.

  Matthew woke up just like any other day, the wind still blowing outside like the wind it was and hail it carried. He and the days had been dreading on. He was sick of it. He always had.

   He hated day after day, wishing something would kill him or rather he would live. To God, he made no choice. That made him dread the days even more.

    The day before was a disaster of emotions. First, it started with passionate and loving kisses, then it turned to tears. Tears of joy. Then tears of dread. Who cried these tears?

    It was both of them.

    Then it turned into a self dread. One of them tried to kill themselves with a knife. They couldn't take it any longer. The cold had finally screwed right through their heads. They were tired, hungry, depressed. Everything they were before buy in a cave, in the middle of a forest, where no one would find them. Who tried to kill themselves?

   The Russian.

   The two of them were silent after that, neither of them getting food to eat or making a fire to stay warm.

    Matthew had multiple headaches every day. It hurt to the point where he too wanted to kill himself.  He wanted it to end so badly. Just please, he would beg. He even asked Ivan to kill him but he refused.

   They are Allies.

   But one night, Matthew was left alone. Ivan was sleeping while Kumajiro was sitting by the fire. The knife where he tried to kill himself with was on the stone cold floor.

  He took it.

  He studied it.

  He held the handle.

  He gripped it.

  Then flesh was ripped.

  The knife was between his ribcage and close to his heart. He still held it even as he could feel his own blood drip from his body onto his own hands and the handle of the knife.

   "What a terrible way to die..." He whispered to himself, taking it out of his body. He then let out a loud scream when he did so.

    Almost immediately, Ivan had awaken and was trying to stop the bleeding by adding pressure to Matthew's body. The cloth Ivan used was almost like a handkerchief, doing no good. Ivan's gloved hands were being covered by Matthew's blood.

    "Matthew, just breathe, please." Ivan pleaded, his voice sounding caught like he was about to sob. "I beg of you."

    Matthew tried to listen but his hearing went away. It all did. Tears ran through his eyes, blurring his vision as he tried to blink them away. He couldn't. That was it.

    He wouldn't be able to see Ivan again. Nor Francis, who practically raised him and cared for him. He would never get to see Arthur, the man who cared for him as well, like he was his own father. He would never even get to see his own brother again. Alfred. Alfred his brother. His smile, his eyes, the way he called him, 'Mattie.' He would never get to see that again. He would never get to see any of them again.

    But who would care?

    He was just another soldier in war. Another soldier out of millions of many countries.

    16 million for America.

    3.5 million for Britain.

   1.1 million for Canada.
 
    13 million for Germany.

    And so much more. But to everyone else, he was nothing but a grain of sand lost in the sea.

    Just another dead body.

    To be continued....