He felt himself choking on his own blood, he had shot himself but he wasn't dead yet. He felt like he was dying, and as blood poured from his mouth he gave a small smile. It's almost over. He would be dead soon, and he could be happy again. He had wanted this day for so long, it was finally going to happen, he was going to do what everyone wanted, he was going to leave them alone, forever.

He vision started to go black and he fell to his knees, his pants soaking in his blood, he started to choke louder as more blood filled his lungs. He fully blacked out as a loud scream filled the house. His face hit the floor and his white hair had been dyed red.

All he could feel was pain, it confused him and angered him, and he wasn't supposed to feel anything. He was supposed to be dead. It hurt to move, it hurt to breath, it hurt to do anything. But, to him that's how it always was, it always hurt and he didn't want it to, he wanted to end it. Why was he still alive?

After hours he felt his eyes open, the bright light causing him pain. He was in a hospital. There were people in his room, but he couldn't make out who was who, everything was blurry. He wanted to sob but it physically hurt him to move at all, why couldn't he be dead? He wanted to end it, so bad, why couldn't he. He felt a tear slide down his face.

They were only here because they had to be, he told himself. They didn't care. They wanted him to leave them alone and he was going to. They were angry at him, not for attempting suicide, but not succeeding at it. They wanted him dead, they didn't care, they didn't care they didn't care. His head hurt as thoughts filled it; he wanted to slam his head in to a wall. When did those thoughts take control of him?

Does it really matter? All that matters is that you should be dead. He told himself. His thoughts were right. He would have to try again, and again, and again. Until he succeeded in killing himself, no matter how many times it takes. He would fulfill his last wish to them; he would leave them alone and never bother them again.

It had been several months since he attempted suicide for the first time. He kept his promise though, to keep trying again and again. He had tried for the 3rd time and failed again, he realized something that day. He pulled out his diary he had kept and a pen.

February 2nd, 1947

Nations cannot die.

He closed the journal and let out a loud sob.

AN: (1) The state of Prussia ceased to exist February 25th, 1947. It was dissolved by the Allied forces; Prussia was branded as the bane of modern German and European history. Nazism was believed as a byproduct of Prussia, ignoring its positive achievements, they sorted it was best to get rid of Prussia altogether, after that day Prussia belonged to History.

(2) There is a head canon that nations cannot die unless their country falls.