The cold feeling of the wind.
The icy feeling of the snow.

Natalia was born into this world with the coldness etched into the surface. She placed in her head that she is alone. Even though Russia and Ukraine-her 'family'-have constantly accompanied her when they were little, she felt alone.

She always found herself standing in the clear white sheet that covered the whole land. She would stand there, like a faded memory that one would like to paint. Her time would never run out, she once mused. So why rush life?

They told her that she's scary. She's feared. She could practically hear their thoughts when she 'stalks' her brother. The way they look at them-"She's probably crazy."

And she could see the embarrassed face of Russia.

In one of her delicate moments-when she was, again, standing in the middle of the snow, she once again thought that she just wanted someone to be..there. Just there. Not because they were obliged, but because they chose to. Not because they were forced, but because they want to.

She remembered what she saw in Latvia's notebook some time before. It was probably a musing of the smallest Baltic- but she thought it was true.

We would die as how we are born in this world- alone and cold.


She wanted to laugh at the irony as America placed his hand on her shoulders. She asked how he found her there, in the middle of the snow, while she point her knife at her chest. He told her that she always comes here.

He knew. He knew that she stand there, alone.

He knew, that she stands there, cold and empty.

And then he asked why she is doing this. "Why?" His voice is rough. She doesn't know why, but she told him everything. She told him that she can't find anyone that would want her. That no one would ever be with her.

That no one could love her enough to die, with her.

She told him while they stood in the middle of the coldness. She told him as he hugged her from behind. She told him as he engulfed his hands around her.

She told him as she let herself, just this once, cry and sob as they share the warmness.

He rested his chin on her right shoulder, and they both closed her eyes. "I know." His whispers made a puff of breath escape his mouth.

"Then," he continued, "if you die, I die. We'll die together." his grip tightened. "Tell me when you're ready."

Somehow, she knows that he meant it. Every single word. As if it's a vow. And she's thankful for that.

Her hands drop the knife, and he withdraw his arms, only to be hugged by her. He hugged her back, and he pulled her closer.

She finally found someone. She smiled in his chest. She finally found someone who will be with her.


I know. I know that I suck. I just simply-

Again, English and typing isn't my first language. I just need to satisfy my Belarus-addiction; Bear with me here. Thank you.

Please point out the mistakes...