"The walls...they look like there's blood pouring down them."

Russia stared at the wall across from him; his head turned to the side as he lay sprawled on his back atop his bed. His arms were over his head and his legs were spread, sheets tangled around him since sleep often escaped his tired eyes.

It was dark, only the moon offered bits of light as it traveled through the crack in the heavy curtains. The thin ray illuminated his bedroom and reflected on the red paint, giving a wet appearance. It looked so similar to fresh blood...

Russia stretched an arm out to try and touch it and it see if it rubbed off on his fingers, but it was too far away. Surely though, it was blood. It was running down the walls now and pooling onto the floor boards, creating small puddles of crimson.

"I wonder how it got there..."

"That isn't blood it's just paint." The voice was speaking to him again. That came as a bit of a shock to Russia. The voice had stayed silent for so long.

"Surely it must be blood. Look, it is wet. Can you not see it dripping?"

The voice chuckled darkly and whispered into his ear softly," Oh I see blood dripping, but not down your walls, no. I see blood dripping from corpses, leaking from gashes, bursting from heads. It is so beautiful it would cause tears to streak down your soft skin."

Russia blinked and sighed sadly. He continued staring at the wall and willed his eyes to penetrate the darkness. Blood... he had seen so much and he couldn't grasp how it could be beautiful. His own blood had flowed from his body many times but he found it slightly frightening, not gorgeous. He had seen blood coming from others but he had only passed it off as another body, no beauty in the red that poured from their wounds.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must be crazy my friend." Russia said speaking softly although he lived alone giving no sleep to which he could disturb.

"You are insane if I am crazy Ivan...you are insane for not finding the wonder in violence..."

Russia remained silent, waiting for the voice to speak more. It always had so much to say; so much wisdom to share and so many gruesome stories to tell. By now Russia was used to hearing it and used to it reading his thoughts. It was with him constantly, telling him what to do and practically screaming its opinions without Russia's consent. It was almost never quiet except when Russia disobeyed it.

The voice knew that when it fell silent, it drove Russia mad. Russia in some way clung to that voice to know that he himself wasn't falling off the edge. Hearing that voice gave him something to compare his own sanity to. It made Russia know he was still human.

"Ivan...I'm bored." it said as it brushed its fingers lightly over his cheek, ending at his chin. It cupped its fingers under Russia's face and brushed its thumb over his chin sending chills up the Russian's spine.

Since when had the voice been able to touch him? ...It must have been getting stronger.

Russia scoffed and shrugged it away, not wanting to feel its dead like chilling touch. "What do you want me to do? Entertain you?"

"Your misery already amuses me enough Ivan. It amuses me to the point of hysterics." Russia already knew this; he had heard the laughter and cackles in his head late at night, sleeping fleeing like a scared rabbit. "But what would amuse me even more would be you finally obeying me."

Russia sighed and resisted the urge to simply ignore it. Having it pester him was actually better than trying to bear the strained silence filled days. "Why would I obey you?"

"I know how to chase away the loneliness dear Ivan. And I of all people know how much you hate being alone."

The voice knew it had hit a nerve, well the voice knew a lot about Russia to be painfully honest. It knew almost everything since it had been there within Russia for years. It knew what Russia loved, what he held dear, all his memories – however good or bad they may have been – and of course all the things Russia hated. It knew perfectly well that above all other things Russia hated, Russia detested loneliness the most.

Russia hated waking up every morning, knowing no one was there. He hated going through the entire day without someone to talk to. He hated spending every meal alone and cooking for only himself. Everyone avoided him. Oh how it ate at him inside... and the voice knew that. The voice knew what Russia would do… the voice knew how easily it could influence Russia. The voice was the only one who talked to him and the voice knew that would only take a moment…

And in that moment…Russia was weak.

"...how could you do that?"

"I have a plan. Just trust me Ivan; I'm not as insane and brainless as you think."

For all Russia knew, the voice could have been telling the complete truth. The voice could have known what it was doing. It could have known how to bring love and warmth into its host's life. The voice could have known how to stop the pain. It could have done a lot of things, but all it did was put a metaphoric bullet in Russia's gun.

"Let's get started~"

----xXx----

Russia hadn't had this much fun in years, especially doing this. He missed this kind of fun actually! The kind of fun where while he was completely calm and put together the other person he was "playing with" squirmed and panicked. He was in control, finally in control of his own rules. He didn't have to follow their rules, only his own. He got to play God in a sense. Deciding who lived and who died. Sadistic was he…? No, he was just hideously clever and humorous… or at least that's what the voice told him.

While holding his pistol in his hand, he ran his fingers up the handle and along the barrel the familiar feel burning into his skin. The metal was cold and hard, just as he remembered. He fingered the trigger and heard it click, making empty unloaded noises. Russia fondly remembered the satisfying bangs it made when a bullet was being fired at high speed from it.

"You do remember how to play right~?" The voice asked as its arms were looped over Russia's shoulders. It was grinning at the gun and at the silver haired man sitting bound by his arms and legs to a small wooden chair a few feet away.

"Of course I do. I could never forget." Russia answered their grins now identical. His violet eyes skimmed over the albino's blue uniform and brown boots, ending at the middle of his head where sliver bangs swept across in spikes.

Russia stepped closer to smaller man, his grin widening and his face growing darker. "Oh Gilbert~? Can you hear me~?"

Prussia groaned while his head felt like it was spinning and his stomach churned. Russia had drugged him with something strong… again. How many times did Prussia have to convince Russia he wasn't going to run? He had come here and was smart enough to know not to try and escape. He had heard horrible stories of the things that happened when people tried to escape Russia's cold grasp. Russia didn't have to practically drive him into an overdose induced coma almost every day.

"I can hear you..." Russia smiled and titled Prussia's warm face upward with his ice chilled fingers.

"Good you can also see da~?"

Gilbert blinked a few times but his eyes remained strangely set apart and drowsy looking the drug definitely affecting them.

"Nein..."

"Oh you can't? Well...that makes this even more fun." Russia giggled childishly – it somehow reminded Prussia of nails on a chalkboard -- and retracted his hand, now searching in his coat pants pockets, feeling for the hard metallic object.

"What...fun...?" Prussia asked as his stomach threatened to claw its way up his throat. "Why the hell can't I see you, you communist bastard?!"

"Don't tell him. Watch him squirm. It makes it even more fun for us da~?" The voice asked as Russia felt its hot breath near his ear. The voice felt so real to him now, as if it was there in the room with him and his "plaything".

"Da... it does indeed." Russia agreed darkly while pulling a small, steel bullet out of his pocket. It was sleek and no thicker than his first finger and no shorter than his thumbnail. Perfect.

"Tell him what wonderful game we're going to play Ivan~! Tell him all the rules and all the conditions~"

Russia obeyed. "Sight doesn't matter since we are playing a game of pure luck."

"What are you talking about?! Untie me damnit!" Russia slapped Prussia harshly across the face after the voice told him to do so; it was growing impatient with the man's smart ass mouth and rebellious behavior. He was Russia's plaything and he would learn to play the part. Though it didn't matter much since didn't have long to learn anyway.

Prussia gagged a view times and his head now felt as if it would explode as Russia asked him," Do you like to gamble Gilbert~?" Russia leaned near Prussia's head so that the other man could feel his hot breath on his face. "I bet you've gambled some pretty big things before. Money, jewels, land da? Today...you're going to gamble something of even more value."

Prussia attempted look in the Russian's direction by following the hot air but in his blind state he had no idea what effect that would even have. He instantly regretted trying to move his head as it felt as if it would screw straight of his head.

"Look at him Ivan, look! Look the pain and the misery! Look how much he is suffering! The once great kingdom of Prussia is on the verge of tears! Push him further Ivan! Push him further! Make. Him. SCREAM."

"You're gambling your life~"

Russia's voice dropped and deepened. It became a voice that was not his. This was the voice speaking not him.

"What?! What the hell are you talking about?!" Prussia, no matter how much pain it caused, thrashed and struggled, attempting to free himself. Prussia knew the insane nation well enough to know this tone of voice meant complete and utter doom. And he was certainly smart enough to know that making bets and gambles with him, especially ones concerning life, was a horrible situation to be in.

"We're playing a game Gilbert~ It's a fun game~" Russia loaded the gun barrel with a single bullet and spun it fast. He clicked it back in before it could slow down. Prussia's ears recognized the grim sound of a pistol being loaded and his heart raced.

"There's one bullet in my gun~ we'll take turns and share it. I'll point it at my head and pull the trigger and then if I don't die, I hand it to you and you pull the trigger on yourself. We play until one of us dies. Fun, da~?"

"YOU'RE INSANE!! LET ME GO NOW!!!" Prussia, now screaming, thrashed even wilder as his body began to shake uncontrollably.

"You'll do as I say. I have control of you and if you argue I'll just save myself the trouble and shoot you myself right now. Look at you; you used to be so great." He paused to chuckle. "And now you're screaming and begging me for mercy. Weren't you the one who told me, you could make me fall any day? I don't see you doing that Gilbert~ I don't see the 'awesome you' saving yourself like you saved Germany. You call him 'West' don't you? Tell me would you like him to take your place? Would you like to see him tied to that chair you're in and watch him suffer so that your own comfort and fate is spared? I thought you cared Gilbert~"

All fell silent as Prussia sat in shame and fear. Fear for himself but also fear for West. He knew Russia would spare no expense and capture West and put him through the same torture he was going through. Prussia didn't want to have to see West's eyes filled with the pain or fear. Prussia didn't want to see West in the hands of this cruel sadist. Prussia had done this for West and… if he had to die for West…

"Fine. But you go first. It's your game." Prussia stated trying not to reveal the fear and emotions he was feeling. Russia smirked seeing straight through it.

"Alright then~" Russia looked at the pistol in his hand and pressed it directly to his head, feeling the prick of cold and heavy metal on his scalp, he had always wondered if a bullet through the brain was numbing.

Click.

"Too bad~ for you anyway." Russia stepped to Prussia's chair and untied only one of his hands so that he may hold the gun. "Try to escape and you'll wish I would have just shot you."

Prussia shakily took the gun into his hand and held it a few inches from his head. He winced and tried no to whimper as he pulled the trigger expecting the loud sound to ring through his skull and brain.

Click.

Prussia sighed shakily and tried to control his shaking. Relief washed over him as he thought that they were finished with Russia's horrible "game".

"My turn again~" 'Russia' said, loving the once again terrified look on Prussia's face. Too bad for Prussia~ didn't he hear that they played until someone died~? Russia snatched the gun back and pointed it at his own forehead, quickly pulling the trigger.

Click.

"Keep in mind Gilbert, there are only six rounds in this pistol...half of them are gone~ within five minutes one of us will be dead da~?"

Prussia held in a choked sob as he once again shakily took the gun and bit hard on his lip. Fear and terror washed over him like a storm and his stomach was now extremely close to escaping his mouth.

Click.

"Fifty...fifty chance...bastard." Prussia said between strained breaths and gasps. He held the gun back out to Russia and now understood why Russia had blinded him.

If he could see, he would have shot Russia the second he had the gun.

Russia grabbed the gun and smiled. He knew exactly where the bullet was and he knew exactly who was going to die.

And Russia knew it wasn't going to be himself.

Click.

Prussia's stomach dropped. His heart stopped beating. His mind drew blanks. All his hope retreated from his body. Prussia knew the inevitable and knew what was about to greet him.

Russia pressed the gun to Prussia's palm and Prussia could feel the smirk on his face. Prussia knew resisting was useless and he knew that if he tried to shoot Russia he would either miss or killed before he could fire.

As Prussia held the gun to his head, shaking and letting the tears fall free, he spoke softly and solemn filled," I'll miss you Ludwig."

BANG.

Author's Notes

Oh jeez I'm so sorry. I had the urge to write this and now I plan on writing more but with other characters. I'm sorry if this was really depressing and I know it's really short but none the less I worked hard on it.

I'm still writing "Broken Ties", I just started writing this in a chat box one day after I heard a beautiful Russian song. Random writing urges just happen to me.

Review my depressing work?