"Let's become one, little sister!"
Him.
I can't even say his name anymore.
It feels like vodka in my mouth, warming me up, then burning through me until nothing remains.
You will be the death of me.
"I like you. Come, you can live in my house."
Back then, I did not want to. I was full of illusions and good will, too drunk with my newly-acquired freedom. Eager to be who I am. Live the way I consider the best.
But the moment he locked his lilac eyes with mine, I knew that no was not an option.
"D-da…"
He gave me the bedroom right next to his. I did not care.
He asked me for a little help around the house. I did not mind.
He made me wear dresses. I hated that.
Me? In a dress? Can you imagine? Strong and fierce as I was?! Dresses are for meek women, not for someone like me. Especially the ones he picked. I hated those. I can't stress enough how much I hated those.
I hated them just as much as I hated him. To no end.
"Do you want to play a game?" he asked one day out of the blue.
Not that he cared about what others wanted, it was just his way of speaking.
My mouth went dry as that violet gaze pierced through me once again, making my head spin and body drown in shivers.
"Da." I nodded, breathless. And that time, I meant it. I wanted to play.
I hated him so much I wanted to play and beat him at his own stupid game. Little did I know I could never beat him. I was so blinded by hate that I took a step forward, marching directly into an abyss.
He guided me to his room, closing the door. He did that with everybody in the house, though I only found out later.
Up until now, it still leaves me speechless how brutal he was. He didn't bother with any undressing; I suddenly understood why he insisted on the skirts so much. He never catered me, never pretended he cared, never truly acknowledged me as a lover. I only existed for his pleasure and satisfaction; every last one of his gestures was crying it out.
I was a virgin back then. And I can't describe how much it hurt my body and pride, bent over his bed, biting that pillow, tears streaming down my face and other bodily fluids down my tights. Just when I thought I couldn't take it for a second more, I was greeted with pleasure. A strange, eerie, blood-curdling one. It was so different from all the pathetic cuddling and drooling I got from other men who lusted after me. And when I regained my lucidity again, I realised it was too late. I've gone too far beyond the world I knew and couldn't find my way back anymore.
He would summon me often. Always treating me the same way; me always enjoying it, doing my best not to let it show.
His breath, his weight, his moans were crushing my whole existence. Yet somehow... I needed that to exist.
You will be the death of me.
I knew I should have ran away. Or try, at least. Try to fight it. And I swear, every single morning I woke up, I wanted it to be a new day. A day different from yesterday. The day when I change my destiny.
But I always ended up coming to his room again.
I was inexperienced whereas he had centuries to master his art. And, as if it wasn't enough, he never fought fair.
How silly of me to have thought he'd never notice. Soon enough, he knew what was going on. How my heartbeat would always align with his. How strangely lustful my cries of pain sounded. How little I objected to everything he did.
Tic.
It's no fun to play with those who enjoy the game, he surely thought. He was the only one who had the right to enjoy it. I only existed for his pleasure and satisfaction; every last one of his gestures was crying it out. As always.
Toc.
Soon, he found himself another bloodsport. He started waging war again.
And I stayed in the house, waiting, hoping. Hoping for what? I did not know.
Tic. Toc.
Once again, I should have broken free, or at least tried. Once again, I chose not to.
"I like you. Come, you can live in my house."
"N-no, I-I… I don't want to…"
"You're mine now so you're coming anyway."
"No. NO! NOOOOO! This can't be! Somebody help! He's taking me away!"
Tic-toc.
That bastard. The second I saw him, I knew what was going on.
Anybody else would do. I would maybe even forgive anyone else. But not the one who had kept me under his lock for all those years, far away from what I longed for, from what I needed, from whom I really was.
To say seeing them together hurt would be a terrible understatement; it was tearing me apart, eating me alive. He played with him just like he had played with me. The same looks, same words, same gestures. He even got him a dress. What more can I say? He found himself a new toy.
But no, my beloved. No, my one and only. I won't let it end just like this. We two have history, did you forget? We two are meant to be. You'll see that soon enough.
I'm yours. You're mine. There's something between us. Whether we want it or not.
"Do you want to play a game?"
"N-no, n-not especially, I m-mean…"
"Too bad. I do."
Tic-toc. Tic-toc.
I did not listen at the door. There was no need. I guessed.
I still believed he would get tired of the new toy and get back to me. The thing was, he really liked the new one better.
His new victim was different. Stronger. Not stronger than him, of course. Stronger than me.
The new one gave his body - he knew he had no choice. But he never gave away his soul.
The new one just went on, knowing one day he'd be free again.
Until then, he'd be free in his mind.
And a free mind cannot be broken. Not easily, at least.
Toys that do not break easily, aren't they double fun?
He would still see me from time to time. But it was less often and it was… Different. Before, while we were together, he would just be thinking of himself; I never minded. Now, he was thinking of someone else. And I just could not live with that.
Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Tic-toc.
Our time was running out.
He started to change. He grew miserable. Even though he never said anything, I knew; he'd grown into me, after all. I felt what he felt.
"How about we get married? Become one?" I dared talk to him after he finished his business with me once.
He turned away, silent.
"Then what would make you happy?" I insisted. How desperately I wanted to be the one who soothes his troubled soul!
He kept looking away, not making a sound. I did not need to see him to know how devastated that beautiful face was.
"You have not because you ask not," I went on.
I expected him to call me stupid and insolent before forcing me out of his bed, the way he used to every time I opened my mouth. He didn't.
Maybe it was the vodka, maybe the general weariness, maybe something different altogether. Maybe he was so pained inside he just needed to say it.
He leaned in to my ear and whispered what he wanted.
"There's only one person in this world who can give me that and that's the only one I'll marry," he added before closing his eyes, drifting to some distant, happy place.
Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Tic-toc.
I left, knowing I could do nothing for him. And our time kept running out.
Nothing?! Was there really nothing at all I could do?! What if...
The bastard loved me, I was well aware of that. The pathetic look on that face said it all every time our paths crossed.
The bastard wanted to make me happy. And I would only be happy when the one I love was.
"How much do you care for me?" I questioned.
Tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc...
"More than anything in this world, my dearest."
"Then you want me to be happy, don't you?" I pushed on.
"Of course I do. What do you need? I'll do anything. Ask away."
I leaned in closer and pressed my mouth against his. His eyes shot wide open as I took his breath away like never before.
Drip-drop drip-drop drip-drop drip-drop...
Tic.
Toc.
Drip. Drop.
The bastard stained my dress. But he helped.
The shovel was heavy. The soil still half frozen.
You know, me and brother, we are meant for each other. We have something special.
Then you came around and our time started to run out. I could not let that happen.
I understand you dreamt of eternity in golden fields. Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of service here. This will have to do.
"Little Lithuania, where are you? You know you can run, but you cannot hide!" Russia sang, walking around his manor, looking for the smaller nation. He was starting to feel worried; the brunet hadn't been around since the day before and it wasn't like him to miss out on his duties.
"Big brother!"
He suddenly froze, hearing the last voice he wished to hear. It'd been months that, along with the same girl's crazy eyes and toothy smile, it filled his worst nightmares.
"Big brother," the voice repeated, this time closer. He wanted to ignore it; then, maybe, by some miracle, it would fade away.
"Big brother," the voice suddenly whispered in his ear. He closed his eyes for a second, wishing he could just die, perish, disappear from the planet that instant. Then, he opened them, turning around to face her.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway, Belarus looked even scarier than in all those bad dreams he had been having. She smelt of pine needles and the dress he had given her was covered in stains. There was a box in her hands, something soaking from it, the foul-smelling liquid falling to the ground with a regular drip-drop.
"Big brother, I want to give you a little something." She flashed him her cutest smile, the one that made him fall for her what now felt like an eternity ago.
"Not now, Natasha. Say, have you seen Toris recently?"
Drip.
"Well," the girl pretended to be thinking for a while. "I actually met him this morning in the Siberian forest. We had a chat. When I left him, he looked really peaceful."
Drop.
He opened his mouth, but the girl went on.
"He actually helped me get you a gift!" she almost cried in thrill, handing him the box she was holding.
Russia glanced at it, then at his sister. With time, he stopped looking her in the eye and now he remembered why. Those dark-blue pools intimidated him beyond words, making him feel like he was drowning.
Drip-drop.
Tic.
Toc.
He wanted to run. But he knew he couldn't hide.
"Open it!" Natalia gave the box an eager shake.
Drip-drop. Drip-drop.
Tic-toc.
His trembling hands gingerly removed the lid. He looked inside.
Blood was pooling into one of the corners, flowing from what looked like…
Drip-drop. Drip-drop. Drip-drop. Drip-drop.
Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Tic-toc.
"Natalia... Why would you bring such a thing here?" he moaned in his worn out voice.
"You asked for it," she explained matter-of-factly. "I just wanted to make you happy. It's all for you." She smiled again, showing even more of her teeth than before.
When did I ever ask her for something? he wondered, his mind spinning hard. And whose entrails would make me happy? A spine-chilling premonition came crawling into his thoughts, drenching them with the overpowering terror.
Drip-drop. Drip-drop.
Tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc...
"Oh, dear brother, do you really not remember?" the girl laughed in an almost flirtatious way. "The other day, lying on your bed, I asked you what would make you happy…"
His eyes widened in realization. He glanced at her, than into the box again.
No.
No!
NO!
This can't be. Somebody help!
Yet he knew no one would. Ever.
"Toris's heart," he whispered helplessly and she exclaimed smugly at the same time.
He slowly looked up and met her gaze again. Her eyes were caressing him, suffocating him with that creepy love. As always.
"You said all you wanted was Toris's heart. And the only one that could give it to you was the one you would marry. I needed some time to figure it out, but as you can see, in the end, I did!"
Lazy drip and a lazier drop. The last one.
The box went falling to the ground.
Tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc...
My time is running out, he suddenly realized.
"Beloved brother, we can finally be happy together. Just the two of us," she sang.
He shook his head, shocked, empty, broken. Beaten. At his own game.
How did it come to this? he wondered.
"Now marry me, Ivanushka."
He shook his head as the panic took over.
"Nyet," he mumbled, taking a step back. "I don't want to!"
She took a step forward. Then another. And another...
"You promised. So we have to marry. Marry! MARRY! MARRY! MARRY! MARRY! MARRY! MARRY!"
"Let's become one, big brother!"
Her.
He couldn't even say her name anymore.
She felt like water in his lungs, filling him, drawing the air out bit by bit until none remained.
You will be the death of me.
One lazy tic. An even lazier toc.
The last one.