Let's take a moment to go back and visit little Russia boy...

It was a snowy day, which is mainly everyday, and Ivan was working diligently on a project his boss assigned him to do. It wasn't a major project so Ivan didn't worry too much about it being perfect. However, that didn't stop him from trying to make it absolutely perfect. It had to be. It always had to be. Anything considered not perfect was highly looked down upon.

"Ah, I'm finished!" Ivan exclaimed with a bright smile. "Boss should be much of the happiness! He'll be here soon so I can hand this to him when he arrives!" His eyes shone with relief and accomplishment as he held up the packet of papers. Slightly bloodied bandages wrapped around his fingers and wrists, but his injuries didn't dampen his mood. He finished a project (at a surprisngly fast pace) and that flooded him with happiness and self-pride.

Ivan was currently sitting down on a chair beside his desk. His feet swung below since he was not yet big enough to reach the floor. The edge of the desk lined up with his chest, making it somewhat difficult to reach the other end. Little snow particles flew in through the partially opened window and landed on the clean surface of the desk. A cool breeze blew in, sending chills down Ivan's spine. Outside, a few voices were heard coming near to the house. The voices gradually grew louder and were followed by the opening of the door. It was the front door.

"Russia! Come down, now!" The bellowing voice of his current boss roared up the stairs. Ivan flinched at the sound and gripped the packet of papers tightly. The sound of his boss yelling always sent his nerves on edge. Regaining himself, the Russian hopped off of the chair and pattered down the steps. The holes in his shoes allowed his little toes to poke out in the fronts of them as he sprinted towards his boss.

Three men stood at the front of the main hall: His boss and his side workers. They gave off the feeling of intimidation, making Ivan's legs tremble as he drew closer. A common feeling he had towards his leader; it would be odd to feel anything other than fright.

"Sir!" Ivan greeted the way he was taught how. "I finished the paperwork you ordered me to do!" His grip on the packet loosened as he held it up towards his boss. A smile of pride was on his face as he did so, shaking a bit at the look his boss gave him. The Russian leader frowned and snatched up the packet, causing Ivan to flinch yet again. Flinching seemed like an all-time movement for him.

"You call this finished?!" His boss shouted, throwing the paperwork in Ivan's face. "It's not filled out completely and it's all incorrect!" Before he knew it, Ivan felt himself being jerked up from the shirt front. In an instant, he found himself being held eye level to his country's leader. Angry eyes stared into frightened ones. "This was due today, and I expected it to be finished on time."

"I-I did the best I could-" Ivan tried to explain, feeling his eyes water and body tremble.

"Well your best isn't enough!" Suddenly, his boss threw Ivan back down onto the floor. Ivan cowered on the ground as he held his bandaged hands over his head.

Nyet, not today... Please... I did best I could... I tried... I trie-

Ivan's silent pleads ceased as a foot made contact with his face. A quiet yelp escaped his lips as he fell backwards as the foot slammed against his side. It didn't take long until the kicks were tripled as the two men who came with his boss joined in.

"Work is nothing to put off! You must complete everything on time; there is no other option!" His boss's scoldings rang in his ears as they finally quit kicking. Bruises were visible all over Ivan as he shook on the floor. His eyes were shut tight, refusing to stare upon the eyes of his worst nightmare.

"I-I'm sorry! I was t-trying to do my b-best.." The Russian child cried softly, glancing up at his leader. "S-Sir, please believe me. I d-did everything I coul-"

Smack

A hand was brought down upon his face, stifling his explanations. It was strong blow. Strong enough to draw blood. Ivan raised a hand and lightly touched his torn cheek. He whimpered as his fingers made contact with the warm, sticky liquid.

"You need to be taught a lesson." The superior growled, stepping close to the injured boy. "I can't have this happen again."

No more... Please, no more... Why can't I ever do anything right?

Without any hesitation, the boss's knuckles collided with the side of Ivan's face. Ivan winced as a hand jerked him off of the floor yet again.

"You're a horrible country!" The words were shouted into his aching ears and echoed down the halls.

"P-Please, sir!" Ivan pleaded, tears falls down his bruised and bleeding cheeks. "I was doing the best I could! I p-promise, next time I'll—"

"Next time?! You say that all the time!" Another slap to the face. "Words will never reach you. You must be taught by force and physical pain." No, not the pain card. Everything he did led to his country officials hurting him. They weren't wrong though. How else would he learn? What else is there to learn from?

"Say it: I'm a monster and I can't ever do things right. Say it!"

"I-I don't want to—"

"Repeat it!"

"I can't—"

Click

Ivan's breathing hitched as he heard the click of a pocket knife. A moment of silence set down on them before a shaky whimper escaped his lips. His boss held up the shining blade so Ivan could see it clearly before his eyes.

"You know I never want to lead it to this, but you're leaving me no choice." The Russian Leader's voice was low and dangerous as he held the knife's edge to Ivan's neck. Scars from previous punishments were still visible around his neck. They were all reminders of what happens when he doesn't do what's right. It reminds him of why he was such a bad nation.

The knife began to dig into the side of Ivan's neck; red began to appear. He whimpered at the feel of it as his boss laughed at his weakness.

"Say it, Ivan. Say: I'm a monster and I can't ever do things right." Ivan shook his head, only making the knife break more of his skin.

"I-I'm not a monst—" the Russian boy tried to talk back but only caused the knife to slowly and painfully trace a crimson line across his neck.

"Yes you are!" His boss shouted as he grew impatient. "Now say it, before I carve the words into you!" Ivan let out a weak cry as he knew his leader wasn't lying. It had happened before, and the words 'unwanted' and 'lonely' we're still roughly etched upon his back. It was only after blood began to drench his collar he decided to give in.

"I-I'm a monster... I c-can't do anything right." Each word sent a dagger through his heart. Saying it out loud made the words feel true. He wasn't wrong. He was a monster and he could never do anything right... right?

"Louder." Came the hiss of the Russian leader. Oh how he just enjoyed watching his own country tremble before him. The sight of such things made him feel powerful and strong. When Ivan didn't repeat again, the knife's tip was dragged across his cheek. More blood, more cuts, more pain.

"I-I'm a monster! I can't do anything right!" Ivan sobbed out, his tears stinging his bleeding cheeks. He cried hysterically in the hold of his boss's hands as more tears fell. To his leader's pleasure, Ivan screamed out even more, "I'm lonely and deserve to be alone! No one loves m-me! I can never be nice, only h-hurt! People fear me b-because I'm a monster! I'm horrible and mean a-and cruel and d-don't deserve to have companionship! I'm destined t-to be alone! Loneliness i-is my only friend..." His words transitioned into soft cries as silence set around them. Yes, that's exactly what the Russian leader wanted to hear. It was all repeated statements that was brainwashed into his mind.

"Good. Never forget that, Ivan." With a rough shove, Ivan felt himself drop back onto the floor. He curled up and bawled into his hands.

Seeing how their work was done, the Russian leader waved off his men and exited the house. Simple as that. They checked to see if work was done. It was not. So they administered proper punishment, and left. Even if Ivan completed it all correctly, they would find some part of it that didn't reach the praise as the rest and scold him for it. So, this routine happened quite often. It happened so often, that Ivan learnt to dealt with it whenever they came by.

The house was suddenly quiet when the men left. Ivan remained curled up on the floor with his wounds bleeding out. They weren't as extensive as his previous ones, but they were quite something.

Why does this always happen?... I try to be the best I can... but I'm always of disobedience...

Ivan opened his now black eye and squinted before him. The halls were empty and silent. The walls were bare and everything still. If it weren't for the falling snow outside, he could've believed time had stopped. So lonely... So empty... Solitude surrounded him.

I wish I had friend. Boss says I don't deserve a friend... He said I'll never make friends because I'm hated. I know he's right...

Ivan pushed himself up in a sitting position, wincing at his wounded body. His torn shoes were splotched with red along with the rest of his clothes. Brushing away his beige hair, the Russian realised that blood was trickling from his head. How many times had his blood been drawn in such a way? How long will it be before this happens again? What reason will bring him another beating?

"I-I don't know what I'm doing wrong!" Ivan began to cry out into the vacant house. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his sobs echoed off of the walls. "It h-hurts... I don't want t-to hurt! Why can't I have friends like the o-others? I don't want to be monster! I'm n-not trying to be scary... I just want friends... But no one will be friend with me. I-I don't want to be lonely! I j-just want..." His words slurred in with his sobs until his crying was the only thing heard. Each cry grew louder and louder as if the pain in his heart increased with each tear. His own cries rang in his ears. The wounds on his body sent sharp pains throughout him. Everything was—

Bump

Ivan was jerked awake from the landing of the plane. People around him slowly awoke from their own sleep. It was only a dream. A dream which awoke his most dreaded and painful memories of his past. It was more like a nightmare really.

Gingerly, Ivan reached up his hand and slowly pulled down his scarf. His fingers made contact with his battered skin.

The scars of his past were forever engraved upon his neck.

A/N:

In case anyone asks, everything in his dream happened. Yes, he dreamed it but it was memories from his past.

I just wanted to have a chapter that gave the reader a look on how little Ivan's life was like and what he experienced. :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter~