Chapter 4
I defied Russia's demands. I followed both Georgia and Chechnya's examples, blending them into something that worked for me for quite a long time. In his presence, I learned Russian and I read from Russian books. This he happily acknowledged, cornering me for long literary discussions and asking me to read aloud in the bright warmth of Georgia's parlor.
But in the few moments I had alone, in the dark of the night or when he was away, I smuggled in my Lithuanian literature and grammar books. I studied voraciously in my cozy room, keeping the candle lit at my oak desk for hours. Half of course from the thrill of partaking in the forbidden fruit, half because of my deep fear of losing something as essential to my identity as my language. If I was too long from the books and too proficient at the poetry I read for Russia's amusement, I was nervous. I hid my panic behind bright smiles, waiting for my next free moment. When Russia released me from his gaze, I studied feverishly until once again the words of my language slipped easily over my tongue.
It was in my panic that I disappointed Russia to my detriment. One day I was brushing down Russia's suits, mentally practicing my language by ticking off the words for the tools and the things I spied in his room.
Brush, yes, I know brush, I thought as I hummed to myself. Window. Hmm. Chair. Carpet, bed, table. Button. Button? Button…
I stared in horror at the intricate metal fastener, unable to come up with the word in Lithuanian.
My god, I can't remember! I cried voicelessly. My body was rigid. Calm down, just a momentary lapse, right? But…but what if it's more? What if this is the beginning of the end?
"Lithuania, why so glum?" A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, then smiled up at Russia's grinning face.
"Nothing at all, sir," I said, shrugging off his hand. "All done here, ahah."
I hung his suit in his wardrobe, bowed to him and scurried off to my room, not glancing back.
I looked down either end of the long hallway outside my room and closed the door behind me, careful not to let it click. I pulled a trunk from beneath my bed, opened it, and lifted the top layer of clothes, exposing the Lithuanian writing beneath. I grabbed a random book and flipped through its pages, searching frantically.
"Ha!" I cried, finger on my savior page. "Button! Button!"
The door burst open.
"Lithuania, you left with such a look on your face that I wondered if you were feeling –" Russia stopped. He stared down at me, and I, my face shocked into marble, stared up at him. With a smile, with eyes calm, with cheeks flaring red, he slammed the tray in his hands on my desk. The teapot rattled, the cup lifted and dropped, cracking its saucer.
"What do you have here?" he said, wrenching the book from my grasp. He flipped through it, closed it gently, then swung at me with the spine of the book. The book smashed into my right temple, and I fell against my bed, holding my head and seeing stars. He tossed the book into the trunk, leaning over it, tsking.
"Such a find," he said. He turned to me and kicked me square in the stomach. I doubled over, heaving, as he crouched down and patted me on the face. "I wish I had not found this in your room, Lithuania. But perhaps this is my fault. Perhaps I was not clear enough in my orders."
He grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me, leaving my feet dangling, and slammed me into the wall. He smiled and closed his eyes.
"Do not worry. I will make things crystal clear." He let go of my shirt and let me slip down the wall before grabbing me by the arm and yanking me out of the room.
"I'm sorry sir, really I am," I pleaded as he dragged me down the hallway, down the spiral staircase, through the kitchens and down to the dank basements. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment. I assure you, it will not happen again. Please, sir, I never meant to insult you, I had no desire to – please, Oh god, I was a fool to defy – please!"
Russia pulled open a door to one of the many musty prison rooms that lined his basement halls. I could hear calls and cries echoing in the distance. He threw me into the room. My shoulder crunched against the cold stone floor.
"You are right, my dear friend Lithuania," he said, taking a whip from a hook on the wall. He brushed my back with its tendrils. His smile was small and sad. "I know you will never disobey me again."
He lifted the whip and let it crack against my back.
I lay shivering on the cold stone floor, body aching, head throbbing. I could not remember the last time I had seen the sun. My mouth was parched and my stomach empty, though my pain was too great to think of eating.
"Lithuania," a hushed voice whispered on the other end of the door. "Lithuania, are you there?"
I groaned in reply.
"Oh, Lithuania! It's me, Chechnya. Thank goodness I found you. Georgia was very adamant that I find you as quickly as possible." A hinged flap at the bottom of the door lifted, and a bowl of water slipped through. I lifted myself on shaky arms and pulled the bowl towards me, dropping my head down to lap the cool water from the bowl. "She said to forgive her for not being here herself, but Russia's been darkening her door a lot more since your punishment."
I heard what you did." Chechnya's whisper was filled with pride. "What a sneaky little man you are. To think you've been hiding away all those books for so long! I didn't think you had it in you."
"What." My voice cracked. I coughed. "What happened to the books?"
"Oh." Her whisper dipped low. "Russia had them burned. He made all of us watch."
I curled up on the stone and covered my leaking eyes.
"But Georgia, you should have seen her! 'Oh, Mr. Russia, what an odd writing system. Do you mind if I keep this one book for my amusement?' I think the bully knew what she was on about, but still, he let her have it! 'Never let me see it. I don't want to mar that pretty face' he said!"
I covered my mouth to stifle a high pitched giggle.
"Oh, but Lithuania, the things we can do!" Chechnya whispered quickly. "We can get you more books. And perhaps you can join me! With two people knocking that great lout about, perhaps we can cripple him, or at lease –"
"No." The word fell from my lips before I could think it. I was stunned, and so was Chechnya. She paused. "No. I cannot, Chechnya." I pulled at my bloodied shirt, removing it from where it dug into the open sores on my back. "I…am not as stubborn as you. This is too much. I…"
I stopped and lay there, mouth hanging open. Chechnya did not speak for a moment.
"You are a coward, Lithuania," she finally said, spitting the words at the door. "You are a coward, like your Baltic brothers! A sellout like Georgia! Fine then, tremble in fear of the lout! I will have none of it!"
She ran off down the hallway, the sound of her footsteps merging with that of the cries of the tortured.
