War Buds
Lichtenstein looked at her bloodied and bruised older brother, lying still on his bed. The sheets slowly and slightly unstetily rose with his breathing. Cuts adorned his face, and some gauze covered his one eye, wrapping around his head. His hair was dirty and messy. Bruises poked out from under the band-aids covering his upper body and legs. In total, it looked like Switzerland had been thrown in a blender.
'Why?' She thought to herself, 'why must you fight? You could've died big brother. What was the fight for? Nothing. It was worthless. You've hurt yourself for nothing.'
Earlier that day, Switzerland had lost his temper and said the wrong things to a bigger man. Though he had a gun, it made no difference. All he was, was lucky to of not shot anybody.
Lichtenstein had rushed over, unsure of what to do. She'd never seen brother in a fight. At least, one he couldn't win. But paramedics had cleaned him up and by 21.00 (9:00), he was lying in bed.
And that was where she sat, in a chair brought in from the dining room, sitting for so long…her legs have now gone numb.
Switzerland groaned in his sleep and his little sister began to quietly sing a lullaby:
Ich ghöre äs Glöggli es lütet so nett
De Tag isch vergange jetz gang ich is Bett
Im Bett tu en i bäte und schlafe dänn ii
De papi im Himmel wird au bi mir si
Amen
This calmed him, and Lichtenstein noticed the sun peaking in through the slates on the blind. Getting up to make breakfast and relieve Switzerland of the pain he'd be in when he woke, Lichtenstein stopped and looked at her big brother.
'I vow to never be violent or wrathful like him,' she thought.
"Never at all"