My first fanfic.. LithuanianxRussia. torisxivan. Abuse and pain...
I really do care about him.
Sometimes I don't deserve his company though.
I lose myself in painful thoughts.
War. Pain. Death.
They follow me, and I can't escape there overwhelming presence .the presence of my own thoughts...I'll retreat to my study where one of my best friends awaits me. One of my only friends…. I grab hold of his slender neck. Glassy and cold, but reassuring. Its cold form twists between my fingers. I feel like I can never open it fast enough.
Then, eventually, the lid would twist off, filling the room with that comforting odor. Vodka. I would take the bottle a drink.
It use to give me such relief.
The liquid running down my throat with that ever familiar burn...But it felt right.
I would stop when I felt numb. My thoughts drowned out by alcohol.
But eventually I stopped getting that relief that I longed for from the vodka.
I needed something else.
I would sit the pain festering into anger.
frustration, with myself. With my past.
I would go out of the room and I would see him. He would stare towards me.
His eyes full of pain. His eyes were darker when he was scared. More intense. His eyes that had seen so much.
War. Pain. Death.
He knew what was coming.
He also knew there was nothing he could do about it.
I would come towards him, I felt dread. But it was to much to stop. no matter how much i wanted to...It hurt to much...the anger and pain mixed to form a toxic cocktail.
I whispered into his ear "Litva", his Russian name. It was cold and cruel sounding. I only called him that when I was like this...
I would grasp the soft fabric of his shirt in my hands and pick him up. Toss him over my shoulder. he always seemed so light...
He would be thrown to the ground. A thud would hit the dark wood floors as his light form dropped to the ground.
He was almost always silent. He probably didn't want me to see how scared he was. How much he wished I wouldn't...
my hand would slap across the smooth skin of his face. He barely flinched when my large hand came towards him.
He had been through it so many times...
I removed his shirt, showing the evidence of previous nights in which he had been subjected to the same cruel punishments. His back, scared and red. Lines and gashes danced across his back, performing some kind of sick ballet.
He sat on his knees. He knew better then to get up; for he knew it would only further agitate me. He just was just waiting for the inevtiable...
I would tell him how worthless he was. How much of a burden he was... all the lies I could think of...
I pulled my whip from its resting place in a dresser draw. I would grab it and pull back.
Snap.
It would crack against his back. over and over.
Sometimes I lost count of how many times.
Sometimes I lost track of why I had started to begin with.
I couldn't remember when it had started.
I would stop eventually. Normally once the blood began. His small form would lie crumbled on the ground. His broken form, in a pool of crimson.
Gashes formed where the whip a touched his skin with its cruel embrace.
Oh god what had I done…
He didn't deserve this, but I knew that from the beginning...
I would usually wait in the room until he moved. I guess to make sure he was alive. to make sure I hadn't done the unthinkable.
Make sure that I hadn't killed him.
At the first sign of movement, I left.
I knew he wouldn't want me there when he woke up from his pain induced slumber. It was hard enough for him I'm sure to even get up.
I felt a kind of numb vodka could never bring. Whenever I would eventually return to my room there was never any signs of what horrible things had occurred earlier.
The blood was always gone...
I can't imagine what its like to clean up your own blood from the floor.
Especially when you did nothing to deserve it ever being shed... I would lie down on my bed.
I would try to sleep. But it was hard. I was so frustrated with myself. Why I'd i have to take out the pain I meant for myself on him.
But i was also so frustrated with him. Why didn't he just leave. Then i wouldn't have to do this to him. it wouldn't be like this. He could be happy. He could be safe...
eventually I would fall asleep into a regret induced coma. it was never restful.
It was tormented with pain and nightmares of the horrible things i had seen. and done...
I would awake to smell of breakfast. It always smelled so good. in the kitchen I would find Lithuanian stiffly moving through the kitchen. He worked with purpose and intent. His seemly happy expression never wavered.
"Good morning" He would chime.
I never understood him. He works so hard and gets treated horribly.
Maybe he stays because he wants to protect his brothers. Maybe he stays out of fear. But you know if he left, I would fall apart. He helps me hold my world together. If only I wasn't the one making his fall apart...
Tell me what you think. i know its not super good but... please review!