So this was a review idea
It's something that haunts her. A nightmare that refuses to disappear, no matter how long her lover cradles her in his arms the pain and images continue until the morning light. "What do you see?" He asks one night when the screams echo loudly through the house.
"Matthew…" She manages through her sobs gripping his shirt tightly, quietly praying for the memories to stop. "They were farmers, children."
He holds her to his chest until she hiccups. "It will help."
"No it won't. He still refuses to see that he did anything wrong." She slams her eyes shut as a child appears in front of her. It's a girl no more than nine years old with hallow lifeless eyes holding a single piece of wheat. The girl walks forward as in in a trance before a man appears behind her holding a pistol. "They died in the streets…" She whispers as the man lowers the weapon and shoots the child in the back of the head. "By his hand."
Canada takes her by the shoulders. "Kat look at me, please."
She shakes her head as another image replaces the first. This time of her, thin and barely hanging on tied by her wrists to two adjacent trees as the snow falls around her. "He said he had to teach me a lesson. That to be one with him…" She looks up to see her brother with that bloody pipe in his hands. "I would have to learn to listen." Russia raises the pipe high into the air with a look of disgust on his face before the image melts away.
A rare anger bubble to the surface but Canada tries not to let it show. "What did he do exactly?"
Slowly her eyes open as tears stream down her face. "Do not make me say Matthew…" She says in a hushed whisper. "Please I beg you…"
He kisses her forehead. "Alright but,"
"Holodomor." She says curling into the safety of his embrace. "It was a genocide that he caused."
As gentle as he can be he warps their quilt around her, knowing that their night is far from over. "I know what it was and I promise you that I will never let him touch you again."
"You can't promise that," She starts to say as the last memory plays. Russia looks up with a look of confusion as a file is tossed down to him. He looks it over before throwing it into his fireplace. "Not until he admits it to himself…what he's done."