Here's a short story centered on Toris and Ivan. There's no romance in this, and any relationship between Toris and Ivan is merely friendly and platonic at best, and frankly unhealthy at worst. Toris is five years older than Ivan in this, and I tried to make a point of showing how much time passes between scenes. The entire story spans just over 18 years from start to finish.
If you're curious, I wrote this when I was supposed to be studying for finals. Took me a couple days, but it was worth it. (Even though I majorly failed my calc final.) Enjoy!
Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Toris was five when the heir to the Braginsky family was born. His name was Ivan, and he was a sweet, chubby baby. He hardly ever cried, instead preferring to giggle and smile at everything he saw.
Toris, on the other hand, was much quieter. Born to servants working in the Braginsky Manor, the boy grew up there. He'd start working as well when he was older, seeing as his family had a debt to pay off. Until then, he spent his days watching his parents work or entertaining himself in the servant's quarters. When Ivan was born, Toris would secretly go visit the child to play. When Irina Braginskaya, Ivan's mom, caught him, he thought he was in huge trouble, but she encouraged the friendship between the two boys, making sure to keep it from her strict husband.
That all changed one day.
Irina was in labor, but something was different from the previous two times she'd given birth. By the time the girl, Natalya, was delivered, it was too late for Irina. Ivan was five, and Toris was ten.
A few weeks later, Toris went to visit Ivan, but something was wrong. The once energetic and affectionate boy was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor.
"Ivan?" Toris prompted, standing in front of his friend.
Without looking up, Ivan ordered, "Go." Toris stood there awkwardly, not wanting to leave when it was clear Ivan was grieving.
Noticing Toris hadn't moved, Ivan jumped up and shouted, "Leave! I don't want to see you!" Toris immediately ran out of the room, startled by Ivan's outburst. The younger boy's eyes were swollen from nonstop crying.
Toris barely saw Ivan for the next two years. He was apparently no longer welcome in the Russian's life. When he did see him, Ivan looked blank and dead inside. His face showed no emotion, and he completely ignored Toris. This was right around the time when Toris finally started working. He was responsible for odd jobs around the house, mostly cleaning. Sometimes he'd be dusting or straightening furniture when he'd get the feeling someone was watching him, but he never saw anyone.
It was another three years before Toris was ordered to bring a meal to Ivan's room, seeing as the ten-year-old wasn't feeling well. Despite being fifteen, Toris nervously walked the familiar path to Ivan's room. He raised his hand to knock, but froze when he heard raised voices inside.
"You are by far the single biggest disappointment in my entire life," a voice Toris recognized as Ivan's dad shouted. There was a commotion, and Ivan let out a strangled cry. There was a loud noise as something clattered to the ground, and then the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh.
"You make me sick," Ivan's father spat. Footsteps came closer, and the door was thrown open.
"What are you doing here?" the man demanded, eyes narrowing.
"I-I'm just here t-to bring food to Master I-Ivan," Toris stuttered, cowering before his employers gaze.
"Well, get on with it then," he ordered.
Toris nodded and said, "Y-yes, Master Braginsky." He immediately went into Ivan's room. Ivan was sitting on the ground in front of the fireplace, a burned hand clenching a half-ruined portrait of Irina Braginskaya.
Toris gasped, "Ivan, your hand—"
Ivan cut him off with a cold, "That's Master Ivan, da?" Toris looked at Ivan in disbelief, the words a slap in the face. He was so different from when they were children.
"My apologies, Master Ivan. Please allow me to bandage your hand," Toris said. Ivan nodded and carefully set the picture on his dresser. He turned toward Toris, and the servant winced when he saw the split lip and the purple bruise beginning to form over Ivan's cheek. He set to work bandaging the hand, then gestured to his face.
"Shall I clean that up as well, Master Ivan?" Toris asked.
"No." Ivan stated bluntly. "Just give me my food and get out."
Toris swallowed and, against his better judgment, said, "Look, Ivan, it's not right that your father does these things. Your mother—" Once more, Toris was cut off, except this time it was with a shove to the ground.
"Do not mention my mother," Ivan growled. It was hard to believe the boy was really only ten.
Knowing he'd gone too far, Toris continued from the ground, "I'm sorry. I was out of line."
"Out," was all Ivan said in response. Toris obeyed the order and left the room.
Six months later, Toris was summoned back to Ivan's room. He passed Master Braginsky on the way up, and knew the man had just finished tormenting Ivan. He increased his speed until he was standing outside Ivan's room. Raising a hand, he knocked gently.
"Enter," came Ivan's voice, childish despite its effort to sound older. Toris opened the door, gasping when he saw Ivan. The boy was sitting on his bed, finger shaped bruises circling his neck.
"D-did Master Braginsky do that?" Toris blurted out.
Surprisingly, Ivan answered, "Da. Leave my food and go away before it's too late."
"Too late for what, Master Ivan?" Toris asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Ivan's fingers twitched, and he said, "I mean it. Leave, now." Toris nodded and reluctantly left the room.
The next time he was summoned was on Ivan's eleventh birthday. What was supposed to be a cause for celebration just meant an angry visit from his father. Toris once again found himself looking at a bruised and battered Ivan. Something was different this time, though.
Toris set the tray down and said, "Master Ivan—"
"Get out," Ivan said quietly.
"N-no," Toris stated, nervous. He'd never disobeyed a direct order before.
Ivan looked up and shouted, "I'm warning you, get out right now!" But Toris couldn't bring himself to leave the boy. He wanted to help, so he gently shut the door and turned back to Ivan.
"I'm not leaving," Toris told him. "I'm worried about you." Ivan stared at him, and before he could say anything else, the Russian slammed him to the ground. A cry of alarm escaped his lips as Ivan straddled him and held his arms down. Since when was Ivan so strong? He's still a child!
Seeing as Toris was older, he could've thrown Ivan off of him, but that would not result in anything good for a man of his station. Attacking a Braginsky would mean death for not only him, but his family too.
"What are you doing, Master Ivan?" Toris asked calmly, trying to deescalate the situation.
Ivan only muttered, "I don't need your pity. I'm not weak." He repeated the last sentence a few times, his voice growing in volume.
"No one said you—"
"Shut up!" Ivan shouted, grabbing Toris' hair and slamming his head into the ground. Toris groaned, his eyes watering. He didn't understand what was happening.
"That, that felt good," Ivan said to himself. He grinned and repeated the motion, this time grabbing Toris' hair a bit rougher. Toris couldn't help himself. His instincts clicked in and he shoved Ivan off of him. He moved to a sitting position, holding a hand to the back of his head as he gazed up at Ivan, who was now standing.
"You dare lay a hand on me? My father will be most displeased," Ivan threatened.
Toris paled and begged, "No, please, I'm sorry, Master Ivan. Please don't tell Master Braginsky."
"And why shouldn't I tell?" Ivan asked.
"I-I'll do anything!" Toris promised.
Ivan smirked and reminded him, "You're a servant; you already have to do everything I tell you, da?" Toris dropped his head. He had nothing to offer.
"However," Ivan continued. "I will not tell Father. In return, you will… help me."
"I'm not sure I understand," Toris admitted.
Ivan crouched down and responded, "My father doesn't like me. He's been attempting to shape me into something I'm not for six years, but I always held out. I pushed you and everyone else away. But lately I've grown so tired of resisting. I've realized that I can't win. He's finally getting what he wanted."
"It doesn't have to be like that. You're just a kid; you don't deserve any of it," Toris said.
"Oh yeah?" Ivan asked, grinning crazily. "And what do you suppose I do? Kill him? Believe me, I've thought about it. No, the easiest way out is to do what he wants, da? I'm just always so angry. And hurting you, it felt so relieving."
Toris answered, "That's not a healthy way to deal with your emotions. It won't help you, Ivan."
"What do you know?" Ivan spat. "You've had a happy life. My life ended when I was five. It's just been nonstop pain and humiliation since then. You don't know what will help me."
"This isn't who you were meant to be. I remember when you were just a sweet little boy who liked to play with me. What happened to that child?" Toris asked, trying his best to think of ways to help his old friend.
"That child," Ivan said as he stood back up, "died along with my mother. Now, get out. I'll send for you the next time my father comes to visit." Sensing that the cause was lost, Toris left the room. He couldn't help but think he'd made things a lot worse.
Toris' life went downhill after the conversation with Ivan. He was called up to his room at least once a week, if not more. Their visits lasted anywhere from 15-30 minutes, and Toris always came out of them with fresh bruises. He managed to learn more about Ivan along the way though. Like how his father tormented all three of the children, but Ivan got the worst of it. He also discovered that Ivan was becoming a bit unhinged from all the abuse.
Ivan was already a big kid, but he continued getting taller and stronger. His hits hurt more with each passing week. By the time he was 13, he was already as tall as Toris was at his 18 years. Throughout the past two years, the abuse Toris suffered at Ivan's hands only grew worse. At first it was just a punch here or there, never anywhere that would leave a visible mark. Somewhere along the way it morphed into vicious kicks and bloody noses.
The worst beating he'd ever gotten was on Ivan's 14th birthday; the three year anniversary of their arrangement. Ivan was officially taller than him by about half a foot already, and he was still growing. Toris knocked on the door, which was immediately thrown open. Ivan yanked Toris inside and slammed the door shut.
The first thing Toris noticed was how messy the room was. Broken objects where thrown everywhere, making Toris a bit more fearful than he normally would be.
"I-Ivan?" Toris prompted, causing the boy to freeze in his furious pacing. "What happened?"
"What happened? Oh, I'll tell you what happened!" Ivan shouted, shoving Toris into the table, causing it to collapse. "I found out that my father has been doing things to Katyusha!"
"Oh no," Toris said quietly. Despite all Ivan had done, Toris still cared for both him and his sisters. He couldn't help but pity them. "You don't mean…"
Ivan pulled at his hair and answered, "Yes! I don't know how far he's gone, but he's at least been touching her for years! It's all my fault because I never noticed!" Ivan's head fell into his hands as Toris cautiously stood back up.
Carefully setting a hand onto Ivan's shoulder, Toris said, "It's not your—"
"Don't touch me!" Ivan yelled, eyes wild. He slammed a fist into Toris' face, and blood immediately gushed out of the broken nose. Without a pause, Ivan then pushed Toris away. The servant lost his balance and took a few steps backwards. He didn't make it far before he stepped on a piece of broken glass and fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Before he could do more than grasp his injured foot, Ivan dragged him into the middle of the room.
Ivan ripped off Toris' shirt and said, "Why does your skin get to be so smooth when mine doesn't? It's not fair! You're nothing but a servant, and I hate you! I hate you for making me envy you!" Ivan lunged to the other side of the room and came back with a rope and a whip.
"Ivan, please, no more," Toris begged.
Ivan only kicked him in the stomach and spat, "Shut up." He roughly tied one end of the rope to Toris' neck, and the other end to his bed. Toris looked up at the younger boy in fear and pain, honestly afraid he was going to die that day.
"You're so weak," Ivan said disgustedly. "You make me sick." The memory of that first day he'd heard Master Braginsky tormenting his son flashed through his mind at the same time the whip cracked across his back. Toris screamed, but it did nothing to stop Ivan from continuing.
Not even a minute later, Ivan's father slammed open the door and yelled, "What is going on in here!?" He froze and took in the scene in front of him. Ivan held the whip loosely in his hand and breathed heavily, while Toris was curled into a ball and crying.
Finally, Master Braginsky approached Ivan and took the whip from him, saying, "You're holding it wrong. This is the proper way to do it." He demonstrated by cracking the whip into the air before handing it back to Ivan. The fourteen year old roared and let the whip fall onto Toris over and over without a break. His face was streaked with tears when he finally stopped and fell to his knees.
"You may not be a lost cause after all, son," Master Braginsky said before turning and leaving the room. Ivan untied the rope from Toris' neck, but the man continued to lie on the ground, choking on his sobs. Once Ivan had wiped away his own tears, he called for two servants. When they showed up, they gasped and stared at Toris.
"Help him back to his quarters," Ivan ordered. "Then clean up this mess." Ivan gestured to the blood covering the ground, and the servants nodded. As quickly as they could, they propped up Toris and took him away.
It took weeks for Toris to fully heal. A doctor was sent down soon after the incident, much to Toris' surprise. He cleaned up Toris' back and foot, disinfected the wounds, and bandaged them. He came back every so often to change the bandages and clean the skin. Once his back scabbed over, the bandages came off permanently.
Ivan didn't send for Toris for a long time after his outburst. In fact, Toris only saw him in passing once or twice over the next year and half. He never looked well, but his bruises seemed to have decreased.
A few months before Ivan's sixteenth birthday, it happened. Master Braginsky went out hunting, but never returned. A search party eventually found him at the bottom of a cliff. The doctors claimed he must've fallen to his death. After the funeral, Ivan was declared the new head of the family, despite still being quite young.
Remembering what Ivan did to their son, Toris' parents planned an escape. The three of them carried out their plans in the dead of night, a few days after the funeral. They were hoping the household would be preoccupied with the sudden change of events.
They were creeping outside, Toris behind his parents. They were almost at the fence when a hand curled itself around the back of Toris' neck, not squeezing, but firmly holding him in place.
"Stop." Ivan ordered. Toris' parents immediately turned around and gasped when they saw what was going on.
Despite his shaking, Toris tried to act strong as he told his parents, "Mom, Dad, don't worry about me. Get out of here!" Ivan casually clamped a hand over Toris' mouth.
"If you want your son to live," Ivan addressed Toris' parents, "then you'll come with me quietly." Seeing no other option, Toris' parents nodded and walked with Ivan back toward the Manor. The trio was brought down to the basement, where Toris' parents were shoved into a cell. Toris, on the other hand, was pulled away toward another room. Ivan ignored the shouts coming from the prisoners and shut the door, sealing them off in what looked like a torture chamber.
Ivan let go of Toris and stared down at him, saying, "It's been a long time, da?" Toris stared at his feet and stayed silent. Ivan wasn't having any of that, though. He grabbed Toris' chin and raised his head up.
"Did you think you could just leave?" Ivan demanded, eyes narrowing. "I thought we were friends."
"We haven't been friends for over ten years," Toris said bitterly, shoving Ivan's hand away.
Ivan looked surprised at Toris' reaction, but recovered quickly and ordered, "Take off your shirt."
Eyes widening, Toris took a step back and asked, "Why?"
"Because I said so," Ivan answered. "Do it now." Toris shook his head wildly, very aware of the room they were in. In retaliation, Ivan slammed Toris to the ground and wrenched off his shirt. Toris struggled, but was surprised to discover that Ivan was stronger than him. Ivan held his face down into the floor and restrained his arms with the other hand. Toris expected to feel a burst of pain, but nothing happened. Eventually, Ivan released his head and ran a finger over some of the scars on Toris' back. Without a word, he stood up, followed quickly by Toris.
"You have two choices," Ivan said as if nothing had happened. "Either the three of you are punished for attempting to escape, or your parents are banished while you remain here." Toris' face fell; both choices were terrible.
After thinking about it, Toris asked, "What would the punishment be?"
Ivan smiled and answered, "Death."
"What?" Toris objected. "No one has ever gotten such a severe punishment for trying to escape! You can't do that!"
"I'm Master Braginsky now, lord of the household, and you're just a poor indebted servant. I can do whatever I please," Ivan reminded him smugly.
When Toris didn't respond, Ivan said, "Seeing as you won't choose, I'll send for the executioner immediately." He turned on his heel and marched toward the door.
"Wait!" Toris yelled, grabbing at Ivan's arm. "I'll stay here, just don't hurt my parents." Ivan looked over triumphantly.
"I just have one question," Toris continued. "Why are you doing this?"
Ivan smiled sadly and answered, "Do you remember how I always told you to get out of my room? It was for your own protection, but you just wouldn't listen. This way you'll be like me, da? Alone." Without another word, Ivan left the room, locking Toris inside.
Ivan returned a few hours later and announced, "It's done. Your parents are gone, and the guards have been told to kill them on sight if they step foot back in the city."
Never able to hide his emotions, tears made their way down Toris' cheeks as he asked, "Are you happy? You got what you wanted, so what are you going to do now?"
"I shall run the estate as expected of me," Ivan answered, looking excited. "And you will never leave me."
Toris knew the old Ivan from years ago still existed. He saw it in the way Ivan cared for his sunflowers and interacted with his sisters. He made it his goal to bring back his old friend who had disappeared the day his mother died.
Months after his parents had been banished, Toris found himself in Ivan's new office.
"Sit," Ivan said, gesturing to a chair. Once Toris was seated, Ivan continued, "Katyusha is set to be married."
"Oh?" Toris said, honestly surprised and curious. Katyusha was a month older than him, and she was a very caring woman.
Ivan nodded and answered, "Yes. I'm personally looking over the suitors, but she'll play a heavy part in the final decision. I want her to be happy after everything she dealt with at the hands of my father."
Seeing Ivan's angry face, Toris reminded him, "Your father is gone now, so he'll never hurt her or anyone ever again."
"That's right," Ivan said. "He is gone. I only wish I could've done it earlier."
Toris' eyes widened and he asked, "A-are you saying that you killed him?"
Ivan only grinned at him widely and ignored the question, instead saying, "You are wrong about one thing, though. He may be gone, but he continues to haunt me every day. He made me into a monster."
"That's not true," Toris protested. "If anything you're a victim."
"Would a victim beat you like I did?" Ivan asked with a bitter smile.
Toris said firmly, "That does not mean you're a monster. A child like yourself couldn't handle the pressure, but you don't have to accept it anymore. You can change; you're already different, in fact."
"Thank you for having faith in me, Toris, but I don't agree. Once a monster, always a monster," Ivan said before leaving the room.
Months went by. Ivan's seventeenth birthday came and went. He hadn't raised a hand to Toris since the beating on his fourteenth birthday. Toris wouldn't go as far as to call them friends again, but he saw huge progress with Ivan. He convinced Ivan to open up to him and often gave him advice.
Sometimes Toris could see Ivan holding himself back when he was angry. He couldn't help but be proud when he saw it. Years ago, Ivan would've just done whatever he'd pleased. It was an obvious display of how far he'd come.
It apparently wasn't enough though.
A few weeks before his eighteenth birthday, Ivan called Toris into his room. Toris knew immediately when he saw the Russian that something was wrong. Worried for his safety for the first time in years, Toris tried to help.
"Listen, Ivan, I don't know what's going on right now, but you need to calm down," Toris said gently. "Everything will be alright."
"Are you afraid?" Ivan sneered. His voice sounded childish, almost as if he was fourteen again.
Knowing he needed to at least appear strong, Toris answered, "No. I'm not afraid because I know I have nothing to fear. You're different now, and you won't hurt me."
Ivan grinned evilly and asked, "Are you sure?" He stood and started walking toward Toris.
"Yes," Toris said. His voice may have remained steady, but his feet were slowly backing up before he even noticed.
"You don't seem so sure to me," Ivan giggled. "I'll bet you want to leave right now."
Toris' back hit the wall, but he didn't give up, saying, "You're wrong. I trust you."
"You need to learn not to place your trust in those who don't deserve it, da?" Ivan said, leaning in uncomfortably close to Toris' face. He swiped Toris' feet out from under him, causing the man to collapse.
"What's wrong?" Ivan asked innocently as he looked down at Toris' face, fear finally showing through. "I thought you trusted me."
"I-I do," Toris insisted. "You are not yourself right now." Ivan scowled and kicked Toris in the side.
While Toris instinctively curled up, Ivan spat, "Why are you always so optimistic and happy? I'm so unbelievably tired of it." He left Toris' side only to return a few moments later with the all too familiar whip.
"Ivan, please, I know the real you is in there," Toris begged, getting desperate.
Ivan smiled and said, "This is the real me." He swung the whip down once and watched as Toris' face scrunched up in pain. He allowed two more blows to fall before it struck him that he forgot to remove Toris' shirt. Leaning over, he tugged off the ripped garment and lifted the whip again.
"Please, Ivan, don't do this," Toris pleaded, crying freely. He was surprised when Ivan actually seemed to listen, dropping the whip onto the ground.
With frantic eyes, Ivan extended a hand to Toris, but Toris couldn't help it. He flinched. Seeing his reaction, Ivan ran out of the room. Toris was tempted to follow him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he put his shirt back on and went to his own room, glad his beating didn't go nearly as far as the first time. His back was definitely sore, but there was minimal blood.
During the following weeks, Ivan refused to answer his door. He remained silent and locked inside his room, speaking to no one. Toris knocked every hour, but he never got a response. Getting impatient, he began rattling the doorknob, but it didn't help. Then one day, the knob turned, opening the door.
"Ivan?" Toris said cautiously. "Is everything alright?" Hearing no response, Toris shoved the door open the rest of the way and gasped at the sight in front of him. Ivan lay on the ground, blood surrounding him in a puddle. His arms were cut from wrists to elbows, and there was a letter tucked under his head.
"Ivan!" Toris shouted, running toward the boy. He checked his pulse, but felt nothing. In denial, Toris blew air into the dead body and pumped at its chest. After a minute, he gave up, collapsing over Ivan and crying. Ivan may have hurt him, but that couldn't stop Toris' loving nature. Pulling himself together, he unfolded the letter and started reading.
Dear Toris,
If you're reading this, then that means I went through with my plan, and you've found my body. I guess I am weak, just like my father said. Rather than live with myself, I took the easy way out.
I know this won't justify how I treated you, but let me explain everything to you. I don't have a lot of memories from when I was younger, but I do remember you. Other than my sister, you were my only friend. The only person to treat me like the child I was. When my mother died, I was so angry. I loved her more than anything in the entire world, and one day she was just gone. I spent months angry at her for leaving me.
My father gave me time to grieve, but once he'd had enough of my crying, he took matters into his own hands. He had never liked me, claiming I was too soft and emotional. You know he beat me, but you might not know he started doing so when I was only six. I wouldn't allow anyone to see me, not even my sisters. I couldn't stand to see Katyusha crying, especially because I wasn't allowed any tears. And even worse was Natalya, who was only a baby, who didn't understand what her birth had caused. I couldn't look at her without blaming her for killing my mother. It didn't help that as the years passed, she started to look just like Father.
And you. I couldn't even think of you without getting angry. You had everything I didn't; loving parents, a happy life, and a safe home. In my childish mind, I came to the conclusion that it was all your fault. I understand how foolish that sounds, but having someone to blame helped me cope with everything.
When you first heard my father yelling at me, I was embarrassed and furious that you knew. I had spent so much time pushing you away, and there you were. Your second visit was even worse. I was sick of being called weak and useless. I was itching to prove my father wrong. I knew that if you stayed with me, I would've done something I'd regret. That's why I made you leave.
The third visit on my eleventh birthday changed everything, as you know. I was just so tired of trying to resist Father, and you wouldn't go away. Your pity disgusted me, and I'm afraid that was when I snapped. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, slamming your head down. It felt so good and so right. My father had been beating me for years, and it made me feel so much better about myself when I saw you in my position. Once you left, I came to my senses and felt bad about the incident. I was horrified by my actions, and afraid I was turning into my father. I swore to myself it would never happen again.
But then my father came back the next week, and I couldn't help it. I brought you back to my room even though I said I wouldn't. I tried to make myself feel better by pretending you deserved it. No matter what I said, I was still eaten by guilt every time you left. Rather than stop me, this new feeling made me hate you even more. My father had conditioned me to hate weak things, and you always looked so weak. You cried and pleaded, just like I did at first. I hated myself for making you hurt, which only made me more unstable. I liked to think I was strong, but in reality, I was the weak one. I allowed my father to control and change me.
When I discovered what my father was doing to Katyusha, I was outraged. I felt so helpless. I wasn't strong or brave enough to confront him about it, so I settled for taking my anger out on you. I will never forget that day. I was so indescribably jealous of you, and I will never forgive myself for hurting you like I did. It was almost like I wasn't in control of my own body. I imagined you were my father and couldn't control myself. When you left, I was devastated. I knew I had gone too far. I made sure a doctor cared for your wounds. I stayed away from you and began planning my father's downfall.
It took a long time, but I finally did it. He was dead, and I was free. But I wasn't, not really. He'd successfully changed me into a copy of himself. When I saw you trying to escape, I was livid. If I couldn't get away from everything, then why should you be able to? I swore I would never let you leave me.
Being with you helped me, even if you didn't notice it. I opened up to you more than anyone else, and I calmed down. I made sure I didn't harm you. I hoped things could go back to what they were before my mother died.
But I still wasn't free. I may not have hit you, but a voice inside me constantly told me to cause you pain. I always managed to overcome the voice quickly enough to stop what I was doing before I hurt you.
Until that day.
I woke up feeling worse than usual. I had hoped seeing you would make me feel better, but it only made me angry. Even after all those years of torment, you were still happier than me. Time seemed to skip, and I found myself standing over you with that dreaded whip once again. After all that time, I had been unable to get rid of the weapon, despite the sour memories associated with it. You looked up at me in fear and tears, pleading for mercy, and I couldn't believe what I'd done. It looked like I'd only hit you once or twice, barely enough to break the skin, but I was devastated. As you remember, I left abruptly, and you didn't see me for two weeks.
You didn't know it at the time, but I was planning my own death, just like how I'd planned my father's all those years ago. Early one morning, I decided it was time.
You know what happened after that. I obviously succeeded, or else you wouldn't be reading my letter. And so now, Toris, I'm finally telling you something I should've said a long time ago. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I ever did to you. You did nothing to deserve my attacks. Killing myself was the only way I could think of to make things right.
I know you will never forgive me, and I understand. I only hope you don't judge me too harshly. Now that I am gone, I want you to leave too. Find your parents. Settle down and live the rest of your life in happiness like you deserve. Take advantage of the freedom I never had.
Goodbye,
Ivan
Toris dropped the letter and looked over at Ivan's body once more. He looked more peaceful in death than any other time Toris had seen him since the death of his mother.
"I do forgive you," Toris whispered. He leaned over and kissed Ivan's forehead.
"You're free at last."
Fun fact: Ivan's mother's name, Irina, means "woman of peace". It really stood out when I was searching for a name.
Don't hesitate to leave a comment! :) Happy Holidays!