Monster

Scary

Heartless

Hate

Words like these swarmed around Russia's mind as he made his way up his hollow stairs and into his freezing bedroom. His hands trembled as he held an arm above his face, covering his eyes. Everything moved about him in a blur. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the halls and into his solitude. The sound of his footsteps and own breathing echoed in his ears. After about what seemed like years, he reached his bedroom door and stumbled inside. Right when he shut his door, separating himself from the reality outside, he broke down.

He slid down the wall, tears streaming down his face. Everything around him seemed to shatter, his own body felt like it was breaking. The Russian lifted his knees to his chest, hugging them. Resting his chin on his knees, Russia stared at the empty space before him, vision blurring from his excessive amount of tears.

What are they meaning? What am I doing wrong? I am not understanding. They say I am mean, but what I see is me doing what's right. If they are of disobedience, I have to punish. That is the only way for them to learn... That is how I learned. When I wasn't doing anything of the rightness, my bosses used punishment to teach me on what not to do. How else am I supposed to teach them? What other way is there?

A stinging feeling could be felt at his trembling lips. Gingerly, he touched the corner of his mouth where blood still flowed. That punch Estonia threw at him was all held in feelings and hate he resented Russia for. All that anger and fear packed into one punch. Not once has Russia ever felt a pain such as this. Sure, he'd been in wars and heavily wounded, but not once had he cried or endured something as effective such as this single punch. Maybe it was because of what had happened earlier on, or maybe it was because of how it all happened. The true reason was still a haze in his mind.

They are hating me... everyone is hating me. Why is that? What am I doing wrong? Am I needing punishment now? Am I doing wrong, but I think I am doing right? Nyet. I am not doing anything wrong, I am the one who is doing the rightness... right? But, then why would there be a majority of people doing the wrong and me only doing what is right. This is not making any sense. I am much of the confusion...

Russia winced at the stabbing feeling in his heart and stomach. The more he thought, the more it hurt. He silently prayed for it all to stop, for everything to stop closing in on him. The constant question of "why?" echoed through his head. Ten minutes passed by and Russia remained curled up against his door. Another ten minutes crept by yet the conflicted, broken Russian continued to tremble on the floor. Oh how he wished for someone to be there with him. For someone to just stand by his side. He didn't care if they liked him or not, or if they cared about his problems, he just wanted another being in his presence.

I hate this feeling... I hate everyone hating me... Why? That is all I ask, why? What am I doing wrong? If they are of disobedience, I must punish. If they refuse, I use force. That is the correct way of dealing with what happens. That is what is right... but if it is, why is everyone saying it is wrong?

Letting out a whimper, Russia slowly stretched out his legs. Dully, he pushed himself back onto his feet, unintentionally beginning to slouch. Tears still streamed down his face yet his face remained emotionless as ever. His now worn-out eyes scanned the room lazily for the one thing that he knew could soothe his pain. His eyes locked on the half empty bottle on his desk. Its clear contents glistening from the afternoon's setting sun. As if in a trance, Russia dragged his feet along the floorboard towards the single bottle of vodka. Vodka. His best friend. The only thing that could take him away from his thoughts and pain. Unscrewing the top, he lifted the opening of the bottle to his lips. Russia grimaced as its transparent contents slipped down his throat. Almost immediately he felt his mind become cloudy. A bitter smile crawled on his lips as he stumbled over to his bed, vodka swinging by his side.

I am not liking this feeling... I have been feeling these emotions for all my life. What are these emotions called? Rejection? Loneliness? Hurt? Empty? Confusion? Fear? Despair? These constant feelings... I want to feel something else. I don't want to feel those emotions anymore. They hurt. They hurt a lot. But what else is there to feel? I have no experience of anything else that's not related to my everyday feelings... I wonder... is there such a feeling that warms your heart? That makes you feel the opposite of depressed? That makes all these other negative feelings go away? Is there such a feeling?

Russia leaned over and rested his head against his old pillow. The vodka was already causing his vision to blur along with his conscious fading in and out.

Is there... such a feeling... If it does exists, I want to find it. I want to experience something like that. Something that warms my freezing heart. I want to believe such an emotion exists, but alas it seems as if its just a dream... a dream that seems too unrealistic to come true...