Britain x USSR

Chapter 2 ig

This contains sensitive topics!

-Self harm

-Voices

-Kinda depression?

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Britain slammed the front door shut, locking it and immediately throwing himself onto the couch, begging to sob again.

"It hurts.. my heart..how could he do this.."

The British male was too sad to move a muscle. He just wanted to lay there, all day and forget about what had happened. But, obviously sad reality collapsed onto him. A few days later, he was sat on the counter, drinking tea. Silence. Then there was a sudden knock, causing Britain to look up. Britain was now in a hoodie and pj shorts. He looked worse than when soviet saw him.

A deep voice came from behind the door.

"Hello? Britain I know you're in there! Please let me in, I want to see how you're doing."

It was soviet. Who else would it be? Britain didn't answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. The tall Russian tried to look through the windows, but only to see that Britain had put the blinds down.  He knocked again and again. Still, no answer. Soviet eventually gave up, just like Britain wished, and walked away.

The small country sighed in relief, trying to hold his tears in. It was impossible. He looked around, jumped off the counter and picked up a small razor.  He stared at his blue skin, coordinated where he wanted the slits in his skin to be, and sliced at his skin. Blood started to pour out of his wrists.

He cried. Cried in pain. He never wanted to end up like this.

A few years passed, no one had seen Britain. Not even soviet. Turns out, britain had been starving himself and locking himself away from the outside world, giving him BAD social axiety. Rumors started to go around town, and the country.

"Is he dead?"

"I heard he was kidnapped!"

"I heard he was assassinated."

Of course, he was not any of these. Not dead, he was still very much alive, although he didn't want to be. Voices started to pour themselves into Britain's mind.

"Like France said, you're a waste of space. You're nothing. Just some freak. Worthless rat, no one will love you! Not even your own dad loved you! And you think soviet likes you?  Haha! How stupid can someone be?!"

Of course, Britain just sobbed into his hands like usual.

Meanwhile, soviet was listening to the people talking about Britain. He didn't belive a single word they were saying. The large country started to make his way over to the smaller country's house. He knocked on the door. No answer. Again. Still no answer.

Soviet sighed, mumbling to himself.

"Britain, make this easy for the both of us. Let me in. We can talk about why you're upset. Don't make me do it the hard way."

A small, shaky voice cane out from behind the door.

"G-Go..a-a-away..!"

Britain was obviously alive, so soviet sighed with relief. Britain quietly got up and ran upstairs into his bedroom, while soviet bashed himself against the front door to let himself in. The door eventually broke down, and soviet looked around the house for the British male.

Britain hid under his bed, a tight space, but he was used to it. He cried quietly to himself, hands over his mouth, trying not to be heard. After soviet has no luck finding Britain downstairs, he walked upstairs, in every single room.  After a few minutes he walked into Britain's room, looking in the closets, the draws, the small cupboards, no luck.

Britain was relived when soviet walked towards the door, but felt two large hands grab his ankles, which pulled him out from under the bed. His eyes widened and filled themselves with tears as he tried to squirm away, but soviet had quite a strong grip. The Russian pinned Britain down on the ground to stop Britain from squirming, but that only made him frightened. Tears rapidly freed themselves from Britain's eyes and he started to cry from fear, still trying with all his strength to get away.

Soviet wasn't having any of it. His grip tightened, hurting the smaller country.

"Stop it! You're making it harder than it had to be Britain!"

"L-Let me g-g-g-go!"

Britain was now trembling, and soviet was pissed off. The cuts on Britain's wrists started to throb, and bleed, which drew attention to Soviet. He rolled up Britain's hoodie sleeves to see bandages on both of his arms. He slowly peeled off the bandages, to see many, MANY deep cuts in Britain's wrists, which traveled all the way up to his elbow.

Britain was now sobbing endlessly, still trying to get away. Soviet kept him pinned down.

"Britain. You're coming home with me."

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That's the end my dears!  I'll defiantly continue this series. Please tell me if you're enjoying this! Bye!