A/N- Hey guys!!! Please read the A/N, i'm putting warnings and such here!
-Trigger warning for mentions of past domestic violence-Trigger warning for violence/blood/gore-Trigger warning for homophobia and a generally bad family
There may be more trigger warnings added as I write more, these are the ones i can currently think of based on how this fic is gonna go! This fic really only will have RoChu as a ship, I've been desperately wanting to write something with platonic Russia and Nyo! America, and I'll probably write something else another time with them as a pairing. Please favorite, follow, and review, and definitely enjoy!
Prologue
Amelia Jones had spent very little of her short life thinking about death. Why should she? Living was much more interesting, and she wanted to make the most out of it. She'd been alive long before 'YOLO' was a word, much less a concept, but somehow, that was still the principle by which she lived.
When she thought about death, Amelia usually thought about dying in some sort of heroic way, like burning to death after saving children from a building that was on fire or jumping in front of someone when they were about to get shot and taking the bullet for them. When she looked at death realistically, Amelia figured that she'd get really old and just pass peacefully with family by her side. It had never occurred to her that her death would be anything but heroic and peaceful.
Amelia had been killed by her fiance. There was no use sugarcoating it. Even fifty-something years later, she still remembered almost every single detail. Her fiance, Arthur, had been drunk. That was a regular occurrence for him; he would have a little gin, a little beer, a little whiskey. Then a little would turn into a lot and he'd lose control. Amelia hadn't known that Arthur was a violent alcoholic until she had moved in with him. Even then, after being his punching bag during his drunken rages, Amelia stayed. It wasn't even love that kept her there, it was a need for companionship and dependency on Arthur's financial support. If she left him, she would have to move back with her brother and take up one of those awful factory jobs. So Amelia stayed, and hid those private details of her relationship.
Usually, Arthur would pass out before he could really hurt Amelia. The worst he'd done was give her a few bad bruises and a large cut on her hand, but that could all be covered up and explained away. And then, one day, Arthur did something worse. This was where Amelia's memory got slightly foggy. She knew the facts, though, from when the police had come to recover her body and arrest Arthur. He'd grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed her thirteen times, then left her for dead. It wasn't until he'd woken up the next day and found Amelia's lifeless body that he realized what he'd done.
Since the date of her death: August 21st, 1956, Amelia's spirit had been stuck in the house. Her soul was restless and didn't belong in heaven or hell, so she had been left as a ghost in an awful excuse for purgatory. Amelia would have been fine with being a ghost if it didn't get so lonely. There never seemed to be anyone in the house, and when someone did move in, it was never for long. They always seemed to leave when Amelia tried to make herself known, claiming that things were thrown at them by nothing and they would randomly feel bursts of unearthly chill.
It hadn't taken long for Amelia to realize that no one could see her. She could interact with solid objects and make noises that people could hear, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make people see her. After three decades or so, Amelia gave up on trying to get people to see her. She figured she would just have to spend eternity alone. But then, Ivan came along.