Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the game Call Of Duty or any of its character's at all.

Welcome to the world of Stockholm syndrome

With the tears a Land hath shed
Their graves should ever be green.
~Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Russia: A cold and hostel place

'If I had to replay my life over again I wouldn't choose a time to die.'

The snow was blowing wildly in this harsh environment. The trees stripped naked to the bark looking so dead. It only seemed as if life didn't exist at all in this wasteland. Maybe a human could not survive out here in just a thin coat with open wounds and sore feet. As far as I knew survival was kicking in. It had terrible timing for me. It just seems I could not catch a break even though I was free from the hell I just came from.

My eyes were beginning to close on me from the coldness and from exhaustion. I was so tired that my body wanted to give in and lie here on the snow. My body wanted to sleep. Sleep for a long time. I tried to keep myself warm but to no avail I was shaking. Mother Nature really does not take too kindly on the weak or wounded. It is as if she is training us to be stronger than we really are.

I was alone in this harsh place.

Makarov was dead. The war seemed to be over we thought peace was finally going to break through. Boy, didn't that change? Russia is still as hostel as ever since the war. Getting in is always the easy part but getting out was the toughest. There was no way I was going home now. All thoughts of home were flooded by hopelessness. I fell on my weak knees knowing that I was not going to make it. My body was too tired to go on. It just gave up on me.

'Please get up.' I thought to myself. Motivation was the key right now. I had to keep going. I just had too. Where I was heading... I was not even sure. I am miles away from the nearest village... I was lost but I knew I wasn't alone here. If I somehow survived and made it somewhere safe in this hostile territory I already knew what was going to happen to me.

I would be back in the warm climates of my home. With my family, laughing and going out to the lake to cook out. I would forget these memories. I will place them in the back of my mind. The frozen tundra isn't what you would call very 'warm' or 'welcoming'. My bones were freezing to the core that with every movement that I made I could feel them slowly cracking and hard to move. I was beginning to freeze to death...

The thought came in mind that I was still a hostage. I've been taken away from my family for almost, I cannot remember how long it has been since I have been away. Month's maybe. I would not say years though it should be. I was in need of an escape. Other Americans from different states were held up in that prison. Some, poor souls, did not survive. In a situation like that, I had to keep some humanity even though hope seemed to be lost. How long can I even hang on to hope?

Covering my tracks is not so easy. I became so paranoid with me looking back every few minutes. They are following me. The blood from my open wounds soaked my shirt with the bitter cold freezing me to death, my blood would soon freeze which may seem like a good thing but it is bad. At least the bleeding will stop but my body will already be in shock and I will be dead. I let out a painful sigh as I saw my breath in front of me.

The snowstorm was not going to clear, that much I was certain. I was now blind trying to find my way to something. In the death trap of the Russian wilderness, I wouldn't be surprised if a predator would come and eat me. Where are they? I am wide open. I am bleeding, it should attract something. But I am not worried about whatever could eat me. It's who. I could feel them, but that strive to keep going was eating at my conscience.

I could barely keep my eyes open but they just did not want to. I tried to lift my arm so I can rub the sleep from my eyes but only pain would replace it. It jolted throughout my body like a bolt of electricity. I wanted to scream so badly. My arm, it feels like it just froze to my body. Just die already... Just die...

No.

Dyeing was not what my option. I may have asked for death but I wanted to go back to my family; to my home. I needed to keep walking in the coldness of this frozen hell. With every last bit of my strength I could muster up, I stood as tall as I could. Inch by agonizing inch, my bones and body were coming to a limit. Then before I knew it my body just stopped moving. I had to sit, I had to rest. My breathing became heavy and my voice was so hoarse talking was not an option.

Huddling, shaking, hungry, exhausted, and surviving was one of the toughest challenges I could ever face. I was going to die in this wasteland. A wasteland I was not familiar with.

A/N: I am re-writing this story because I want to make it seem better. I will look over thoroughly and fix any mistake that I know I made. This I am sure will make my reader's happy to some extreme. Sorry it took me long to catch these mistakes. Life has a way of getting to me.