The past.
A swirling vortex of blood-stained misery. It haunts the souls of those who've seen it. It tortures the souls of those who've lived it. It is best left forgotten, but that is irrevocably impossible…
My brother was the most important person in my life.
He was the reason I kept going, after all these years. He gave me the will to live even after I was abolished as a nation. He was the sun in my life.
I was once the great Nation of Prussia, feared and beloved by all.
That all ended one fateful day…
World War Two. That was the breaking point.
In the decades leading up to one of the darkest times in all of history, my brother had been slowing spiraling into the ground. The First World War shoved him into a gaping hole of debt and poverty that he could not escape.
He began to change before my very eyes. Every day, he grew more edgy and violent. My calm and trustworthy sibling was going mad.
It was cold morning in December when I stumbled upon one of the most horrifying things I had ever seen in my life. A concentration camp brimming with Jews.
I had dashed home in a fit of rage, planning to rant to my brother and get him to abolish such an evil thing that had taken root on his land.
Little did I know that he had founded it as an extermination ground.
He glared coldly at me as I rambled on about the camp. His eyes narrowed with every word and I felt his gaze penetrate my soul. I was terrified.
I bolted out of that house and fled; bound for French territory. At least I still had Spain and France.
That was when the wall went up.
That damn wall.
Russia had it constructed when I pleaded with the Allies to help me and my brother.
It was unexpected. I was heartbroken.
My perfect brother had driven himself insane. Was it my fault? Yes. Yes it was.
I was the one who just wasted space and lazed around all day. I was the one who played pranks on him. I was the one who teased him relentlessly.
I had broken my brother beyond repair.
Nothing was worth it anymore. I had always done everything for him. Without him, I had nothing…
I glance around nervously; I do not want a single soul to witness what I'm about to do.
The coast is clear, to my great relief. A nearly silent sigh escapes my lips. The grief from the separation still has not healed. The wound is still fresh. And if all goes according to plan, it will be the end of my pathetic life.
My bare feet trudge through the snow, on a clear day similar to the one when I discovered the true horrors I had inflicted upon my brother.
I draw closer and closer to my final resting place with every step. It shines like a beacon, a great welcome mat to Hell. The pistol in my pocket feels heavier with each second that drags by. Time seems to be slowing down in anticipation.
My hesitant fingers close around my Iron Cross, lifting the metal and pressing it to my lips. I love you, brother…
I arrive at the Berlin Wall with conflicting emotions.
I reach out and place my hand flat on the concrete.
This is it.
The gun is drawn, and I raise it to the right side of my white head. 'I have no regrets,' I remind myself calmly, but it is to no avail.
A tiny voice that resides in the back of my skull still refuses to shut up. It keeps lying to me. Telling me things that I know aren't true. It doesn't have to lie…
I don't have anything to live for!
It is my fault my brother's gone ballistic!
I am not guiltless!
I am scum and the Earth needs to be rid of such a useless ex-nation!
No one loves me!
I am unwanted!
"SHUT UP!"
The pistol falls from my hand as I clutch desperately at my head. Why won't that voice shut up?!
I know what I must do now.
I stand up, a sad smile on my face. It is finally my time. No excuses.
After I grope around in the freshly fallen snow, I fish out my shiny gun. I stare at it for a few seconds, completely mesmerized. This gun is a mere trigger pull away from my death. What an idea. My much too drawn-out life is running its ending credits.
I may as well end with a bang.
The last thing I see is graffiti on the Berlin Wall that says 'Life is lived for loved ones.'
