Belarus dragged the blade along her porcelain wrist. The blood dripped on her apron, staining it dark red, and mixing with the tears still falling. She doesn't move until the blood stops to fall. She cleans and covers the cuts, then washes the apron out as best she could. Little cuts didn't help anymore. Not really.
While she washed her face, she heard someone knock on the front door. Who was it? Nobody visited them, and Russia wouldn't be back for a few weeks. He wouldn't have knocked anyway. She pretended no one was home and tried to make no noise. She hadn't finished cleaning up and still looked like a mess. She heard nothing for a moment and she hoped that whoever it was had left.
"HEY DUDE! YOU HOME!" She heard a loud and overly cheerful voice yell. She didn't have time to wonder who it was. She immediately grabbed a razor, to defend herself. It was a reflex. She closed the door to the bathroom silently, but didn't lock it. If the person came in, a locked door would be suspicious. She sat down on the stone floor to wait.