My name is Ivan 'Ruska' Braginski. I have lived in America for almost fifty years. Nyet, I'm no old man. I have lived ever since the cold war.
Fifty years ago I had just turned 19 and I was going into the army to support my Country, Russia. The training was not easy to pass, but the academics were very easy for someone with my IQ.
The squad I was in was captured but American forces and well, I was lucky that I survived the first week. I saw many of my comrades died. I hated seeing the pain in their eyes, all of that blood, those blood curtailing screams from the behind the green door.
Three weeks in to the torture it was my turn to be questioned. They put heavy chains on my wrist and ankles before they even let me take a step out the door. They walked my down a long hallway. There it was the green door that I had feared ever since the first man went into it.
The door opened and then I saw him. He had sun kissed skin and mesmerizing blue eyes that reminded me of the sky in Russia before the war. He had neatly kept blond hair with one stray cowlick. The American wore a navy blue suit and brown dress shoes.
"Come and sit." He told me. "I just want some information, Mr. Braginski "I was shocked when he knew my name. The man motioned to a wooden chair in the middle of the room. I walked in and sat in the chair like I was signaled to do so.
The room was a very bland tan color. There were no blood or human corpses which I was actually expecting after all the screaming and sounds of spattering.
The door shut behind me. Only the blond man and I were in the room.
"Kak tebya zovut?" I asked, half expecting him to know what I'm saying.
"Alfred F. Jones." He started.
'And you Are Ivan Vanya Ruska Braginski. I'm terribly sorry Mr. Braginski, but your like has come to an end." He said with a smile.
"Nyet," I said softly. He smile disappeared.
"And why not?" He asked.
"Moi sestry . YA ne mogu ostavitʹ ih." I said thinking of my elder and younger sisters, Katsuya and Natalia.
"Oh right. I forgot about them. You'll have to!" He grinned and took out a black leather book that said "To kill" in old English font.
He opened it and fixed his glasses.
"Ivan Vanya Ruska Braginski.
Age:19
Family- Parents: the late Anya and Joseph Braginski.
Sisters: Older- Katsuya Braginski (25), Younger- Natalia Roza Braginski (16).
Date of Birth: December 1st 1930
Date of death: October 23rd 1945"
He finished reading and closed the book.
"How do you know that?" I questioned now using my English.
"I, my friend am a Death god."
I looked at him confused.
"You know, a Shinigami, The grim reaper, a death angel, a Angel, kotoryĭ dostavit vas k chertu." My native tongue rolled off his lips in an oh so sexy way.
"You're insane." I spat.
"No, I'm not." Then he held out his arm and a long black scythe appeared from the shadows. I thought I was dreaming, but no It was very, very real.
Pain shot through my body. The blade of the scythe had gone right through my stomach. I still have the scar to this day.
"W-what the hell?" I was chocking on my own blood at this point.
"You're going to die, and go to-" I kicked my feet up while he was talking and knocked him over. He dropped the scythe and fell over with a bloody nose.
"That hurt..." He groaned, rubbing his head.
I don't know how I did it but I got out of the cuffs that were binding me hands. I decided to grab the scythe and run.
I ran through the guards, the fences over the walls. I just escaped.
I don't know how but, I was alive. The bleeding in my stomach had stopped and it was scarred.
I looked at the black scythe and soon it turned back into shadows. Not only that, but it turned into a black rose tattoo on my wrist.
Since that day, I've kept the same appearance. I've out lived my parents and my sisters are very old, as are my friends. I've just kept cheating death.