"Do I need to remind you that you are mine, моя солнечность?" Russia smiled, happiness dancing across his violet-coloured pupils.
Toris shook his head slowly, defeat washing over him like a title wave as he felt the cold slice of metal against his skin.
"Do I need to remind you that you belong to me?.." He chuckled wistfully, eyes sparkling, smile widening, as he saw the blood drip to the floor. Diseased, black, thick with the posion that ran through his veins and brittle his bones.
It dissolved his own skin until there was nothing left but a hollow shell.
Torture.
That is what he received here; under Russia's 'care.'
Torture, cruelty.
And the cold, cold reality of it all was.. he loved him.
He loved the happiness that he could bring to his care-taker, his master, as the gleaming, rusted and blood-matted edge of his beloved faucet rang down and smashed against his head.
Love.
It was a cruel word that Toris learned to ignore.
There was no love here.
No love in this little game that Russia played.
Only the cruel harsh crack of bones against the faucet he held, and the cold press of stone against his head at night.
"Do you have any last words? Requests?" The words rolled off Russia's tongue like a simple 'Hello,' or a 'Goodbye,' or.. an 'I love you.'
Yes.. Toris thought. This was Russia's way of saying I love you.
Of letting him have his sweet, sweet release. His freedom.
"Y-y's.." He voice croaked out, harsh from screaming, crying, and the fear of knowing that you were soon about to meet your end.
But not.. not actually knowing if you would.
Because see.. with Russia.. it's all games.
This is all just one big fucking game.
And Toris loved every minute of it.
Because it made Russia happy.
And that's all he was here for.. was to make him happy. Was he not?
"And what is the request, моя солнечность?" ..Sunshine.. he always called him his 'sunshine.' Even after he smashed his head against the stone wall of the dungeon he was imprisoned in. Even after he brought the faucet down onto his head, the sickening crack echoing across the room.
Toris closed his eyes.. his eyelids.
Russia had long since taken everything from him.
Skin stripped from bones.
Teeth pulled from once-pink gums.
Eyes pulled from their sockets as he slept in the blissful heaven known as unconsciousness.
He was torn, torn apart and broken and then put back together only to be chucked down into this little abyss known as Hell.
That was the simple fact of life.
He was in Hell. And there was no way out.
So he might as well make his last words mean something.
To this man.
To this animal.
This.. in-humane creature they call Russia.
That he wish.. that he wished he could call his lover, his saviour.
But, no.
No, as that gun was cocked to his head.
Why a gun Russia?
I thought you liked the slow way of killing? The absolute most torture that you could inflict on your victims?
But no, no. That was a gun cocked to his head, loaded and ready as he lay crumbled on his dungeon floor.
Yes. His.
Russia made sure Toris knew that he owned this dungeon. This part of the house that no one ever came to look, to afraid to see what had been lurking down there. For years, centuries.
Toris tried to sit up, his arms long-since having gone limp, the bones edgy, poking out of his arms as his skin grew around the once tan appendages. Deforming his skin, bumps, edges, it was all disgusting to see the way the bones grew into his skin from not having been set when Russia decided to break his arms; not wanting his 'little Toris' to escape.
Escape. Ha.
Russia gripped his shoulder, lifting him up gently.
Gently.
Toris sighed.
Heaven.
"Close your eyes", he told Russia.
And the Russian nodded, smiling all too happily to think of what his beloved country would do as his final last words.
Shoot himself? No, his arms didn't work. Russia made sure of that.
Run away, he couldn't. Russia locked the door.
Scream. His voice was gone.
And besides, Russia had long since cut his tongue and took his eyes.
No sight, no sound, nothing.
He grinned giddily.
But his happiness soon ebbed away.
What.. was his doll doing. His darling, his sunshine.
Red tears slowly leaked from Toris's eyes, under his bandages, as he leaned forward to search for Russia's face.
Russia tilted his head, confused, bringing his face closer to the others so that he could feel his breath against his dirt-crusted skin.
Toris noted that Russia smelled as he always did.. Sunflowers and Vodka. He took it in, that glorious smell, the last thing he would remember as he took Russia's lips in a violent kiss.
The last thing he wanted that Russian to remember, was that he loved him.
And that he had always loved him.
He could break him down, steal his skin from his bones, take his heart from his chest.
But that always belong to him anyway.
And that kiss conveyed that.
Sadness.
Loneliness.
Hope.
Sorrow.
and.. Confusion.
It tasted weird against Russia's lips.
He wished, oh he wished, that Russia would take him into his arms and tell him that everything would be ok.
That this was all just a dream. That he hadn't been sitting, hopelessly broken, inside that dungeon for the past 20 years; his friends long-since dead beside him, eaten away by the maggots and worms, that nested on these floors.
But no, the only thing that Toris knew.. was the cold stone floor coming to meet his head as he dropped down to the ground, blood dripping from his wound, melting into the once black floor, now covered in dry and crusted blood.
He could imagine it. Russia standing, smiling that eerie smile, and walking away, opening the door to the dungeon.
His dungeon.
And shutting it, locking it, and never bothering to open it again.
It was all over, and as blackness ebbed away at his mind,
He knew. He knew that he loved this man that was once his care-taker.
And that he could have everything of his being. Because he never once, hadn't given it willingly.
His eyes, his heart, his tongue, his skin, his blood that ran through his veins. Everything.
Russia was allowed to take it all.
And he did, without mercy. Or regret.
But the only thing that Toris wished.. the only thing that he had hoped before Russia had pulled that trigger, was to have his eyes.. to see his face, and his expression as he kissed him. And..
Was to be able to say it, was to hear I love you,
From those blood-stained lips.
How did it turn out?
I got this from this; http: / www. neopets (dot) com/ ~justanotheruslesspet
Germany is an excellent writer and she deserves all of the credit.
(She, right?)
Please, drop a review.
-AMLF
[Disclaimer]
{Dedicated to all of MAD.}