I was shaking all through dinner. And I wasn't hungry. I couldn't even swallow my juice. It was that bad. Both Eduard and Raivis were staring at me worriedly, but they didn't say anything. They knew that I wouldn't want them to ask me, and I'm grateful for that. At least for now. Feliks, on the other hand, not so much. At the very sight of my pale face, shaking hands, and inability to talk without stuttering, he had started to badger me.

"Okay, what the fuck is like wrong with you, Elena? You're freaking me out!"

Yet, I just shook my head. I could tell that he was getting pissed at me for my uncooperativeness. I couldn't blame him. If Feliks were in this position, I'd be freaking out as well.

I just sat there, my mouth glued shut, keeping my eyes forward. I didn't want to turn around and look at anybody. My confidence has been drained and it sucks. Yet, I could still hear everyone around me.

For some odd reason, everyone always tended to eat dinner at the school on the first night. That's probably because the food was best here…only on the first night. As the year goes by, the cooks get lazy and the food starts to turn to shit. That's when the nations return to their own homes, or go to other countries, for food.

So everyone was practically here. I could see it already. Near the end of the cafeteria were the infamous "Bad Touch Trio," or Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio. Gilbert seemed to have gotten some of his gusto back, as he was smirking and flinging grapes at both Roderich and Elizabeta, who were at a table not far from them. I was slightly glad about that. I honestly felt bad for what I had said earlier today.

At a table not far from theirs sat both the Italy brothers, Feliciano and Lovino, as well as Ludwig. Feliciano sat extremely close to a flustered looking Ludwig, while Lovino glared over at Antonio from his table. Typical.

Then there were the Asian nations…with the exception of Kiku, who didn't like to hang around his family. Instead, Kiku was sitting with the tense and rather sullen group of Mediterranean/Easterners…Egypt, Turkey, and Greece. Then there was the table of the Latin countries, including Mexico and South America. They all despised the North Americans, who were sitting not far from where I was.

There were just so many tables. So many nations. So many micro-nations. So many…cliques. It's quite hilarious, actually. That the nations of the world actually are petty enough to form cliques. Yet, it's just the way things seem to work.

I bit my lip and tried to calm myself. There was one empty table. It was the table that was always reserved for THEM.

The soviets.

The commies.

The oppressors.

The table that I used to sit at, scared out of my wits as I chewed on my food, avoiding the heated glare of Nikolai, the sad and nervous expression of Yekaterina, the cold smile of Ivan, and the constant fear of my brothers.

I don't sit there anymore.

Yet, it's still there. The sight made my stomach turn, as I pushed my plate away from me. I didn't even want to look at the food anymore.

"Elena…seriously! What the hell is wrong?" Feliks pleaded, now looking genuinely upset that I wasn't telling him anything. Both of my brothers were staring down at their food, looking extremely nervous.

I didn't know what to tell Feliks. That my new dorm mate was Nikolai? That he threatened me twice today? That I wouldn't be able to sleep all year? That I was in genuine fear of my life? Even more so than when I was under Soviet rule?

Yeah…that will go over so well.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. "It's nothing, Feliks."

"Bullshit! Something's bothering you! And…Eduard! Raivis! Why aren't you even asking her?" Feliks demanded, looking angrily at my two brothers.

The two exchanged glances before staring at me. They understood me. They had a feeling that it had something to do with one of them.

They didn't say anything.

Then, it happened. They came in to the cafeteria. My breath hitched as I watched the three walk in, their platinum colored hair shining menacingly, yet gloriously. A dark aura surrounded them and the temperature in the room seemed to drop about twenty degrees.

Ivan walked in front, tall, grand, almost beautiful looking with his head held high, his piercing violet eyes scanning the room, that eerie smile on his lips, his long coat brushing at his feet…yet I could see the dark and disheveled pain…something that wasn't usually there. Then there was Yekaterina, beautiful, with a gentle, yet sad expression on her face, her eyes sharp and her movements eerily robotic. Then…of course, Nikolai. Beautiful, icy, biting, frightening…those sharp eyes, so full of a fiery hatred, that pale face, that disheveled hair that fell in to his eyes…

The room seemed to immediately notice their presence. Everyone either turned away quickly and started to nervously shovel their food, or glared at them, whispering insults to each other…but it was all out of fear. Everyone feared them.

Some even turned to look at me and my brothers. I quickly looked down at my plate, determined to avoid any eye contact with Ivan, Yekaterina, or Nikolai…but I couldn't keep my eyes away for long. Something about them drew my vision. So I looked back up. Ivan sat there, conversing quietly and intimately with Yekaterina. Nikolai sat there, his arms crossed, his back slumped against the chair, glaring menacingly at the table in front of him.

And I noticed that his chair wasn't even that close to Ivan's. It unnerved me to no end. He was always ALWAYS attached to his brother. He tried to get as close to him as he could. For as long as I remembered, Nikolai was a leech at his brother's side.

But not anymore.

And I've been seeing that. In fact, I've barely seen them exchange a word. I haven't see Nikolai staring longingly at his brother. I haven't seen his limbs facing the general direction his brother was in, like they usually are. No.

Something happened.

Something that I shouldn't be concerning myself with because it's none of my business anymore.

I swallowed and looked back down at my plate. I attempted to stuff a piece of bread in my mouth, but I coughed a bit and immediately felt sick.

"…I get it," Feliks snapped. "It's them, isn't it? One of them did something to you!"

"Feliks…keep your voice down," I whispered.

"No! I won't!"

I stared at my friend. His voice was getting louder and his eyes were narrowing. Raivis and Eduard both stared at the two of us in shock, their eyes wide.

"Feliks…"

"You're free, Elena! You're like fucking free! You can't keep fearing them! They can't do anything to you!"

I felt the tears come to my eyes for no apparent reason. Maybe I was just afraid. I don't know.

"Yes they can. At least one of them can," I blurted out, instantly regretting it.

"It's him isn't it? That stupid Belarusian bastard!" Feliks spat as loud as he could.

We were attracting attention now. People were starting to stare at us.

I didn't want dare look at Nikolai's direction. I already knew that he had heard Feliks, and that he was probably plotting our death right now.

"Feliks…" Eduard warned.

"Don't…shit!" Raivis spluttered, his eyes in the direction of Ivan's table. That was not a good sign.

"I don't care if they hear me or not. Look at the way you three are acting! It's like nothing has changed!" Feliks burst out, crossing his arms. This was not good. Everyone was staring at us now.

"Seriously, Feliks! Shut the hell up!" I shrieked, a wave of hysteria building up within me. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit….

"Oh look, what do we have here?" Feliks suddenly said, a nasty smirk plastered on his lips. He was glaring over my shoulder and I didn't have to turn around to know that Ivan Braginski was standing there. I could literally feel his iciness dig into my skin and coat my lungs. I gulped.

"So the almighty Russia has come to join the party, huh?" Feliks mocked, his eyes glinting viciously. I was looking pleadingly at my friend, but he didn't acknowledge it. He only had eyes for the Russian. My stomach turned. I glanced over at both Eduard and Raivis, who were both staring wide eyed at Ivan.

"We're all playing nicely here, da? No petty gossip here, I'm assuming?"

I cringed. His voice sounded as it always did, innocent and cruel. I was going to get sick. I was literally going to throw up.

"F-Feliks…" I choked.

But Feliks ignored me. He stood on his feet, a dangerous smile on his face. "What exactly are you suggesting, Braginski?" His voice was laced with bitterness…and it frightened me. I've only see Feliks like this when he's at war or when he has every intention to kill. And I've never liked it. It scares me…almost as much as Ivan and Nikolai did.

And…and…Feliks was so much smaller than Ivan, as well as Nikolai. So if Nikolai came to intervene…Feliks would get hurt…so hurt. And I can't do much. I just can't…I'm so useless. I was wrong. I can't be independent and strong. I'm just hopeless Lithuania. That country who gets bullied around by big scary socialistic nations.

Ivan laughed lightly. It sent chills down my spine. "I'm only suggesting what you think I'm suggesting, my dear Poland."

I couldn't help it. I spun around to face Ivan. He loomed over me, icy, dangerous, his violet eyes flashing. No…I'm not going to shake. I'm not going to shake. I'm not going to shake. I'm not going to…

Nikolai stepped up next to his brother. He was glaring at me. Shit. I should've known that this would happen. His piercing eyes were digging fiery holes into my skin. I held my breath for a second before I forced myself to speak…

"I-Ivan, Nikolai…just go. Please. T-This doesn't concern you…"

Crap, I was shaking. Dammit. I don't want to be that trembling girl anymore. But here I am. Trembling. Go figure.

With a skip of my heart, I saw Ivan's eyes soften slightly. But Nikolai on the other hand…his eyes narrowed at me and a nasty smile made its way onto his lips.

Is it wrong that I actually find that smile extremely attractive?

Yes, Elena. Yes it is.

And that fact didn't help stifle the fear.

He pushed past his brother so that he stood in front of him. Ivan didn't resist, but a slight frown made its way onto his face. Nikolai was staring at me menacingly. I didn't look away, but I felt myself shaking uncontrollably.

"Well, well, well. It appears that the scum of the earth has spoken."

I cringed. His words stung, stung as much as they always did. I opened my mouth, but quickly closed it, knowing that nothing I said would fix anything.

"Nikolai!" Ivan warned, shadows appearing over his face. But Nikolai ignored his brother, his eyes full of hatred as they stayed on me. Should I say something? No…definitely not. I was already sharing a room with him. Anything I do or say now would result in what would happen in the dead of night when I was fully vulnerable.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something, you little bitch?" he spat at me. I bit bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling. It seemed that with every single word he spoke, with ever single second he passed, he was getting closer to me. He was getting closer to pulling out the knife and plunging it in my chest…right here and right now.

Feliks spat, "Don't talk to her like that you fucking bastard!"

He made a movement to lunge forward, but Eduard grabbed him by the back of the shirt and held on to him firmly. Thank God. I can't afford to watch a fight break out. Especially between someone as special to me as Feliks, and the icy cold oppressors who were capable of heinous and sadistic torture.

Nikolai's sharp eyes turned to Feliks. His eyes darkened, and I knew something bad was going to happen. Then, in the next split second, moving so fast that I could barely process it, a sharp object went hurling straight for Feliks. He ducked just in time, and the sharp knife stuck itself against the wooden door frame of the door on the opposite wall. Everyone either gasped in fear, or stood up, their eyes showing that they wanted to get involved in this.

"брат!" exclaimed Yekaterina, her eyes wide in both fear and frustration as they filled with tears. She stared at Nikolai. "Please, stop this!"

Everyone was still. No one dared move a muscle. I held my breath. Every…single…movement…

Everything was dangerous.

The air was thick and tense and dark and cold…

Ivan's smile was faltering. His white hands were gently stroking his pipe. I gulped.

I'm going to throw up. I feel absolutely sick. So sick…so disgusted…so scared…I can't handle this. I thought that all of this was over once I ran away from Ivan's house over a year ago. But no. I come back, see them again, and on the first day, people are already throwing weapons.

Feliks…please, just stop…

I wanted to plead for him to just back down. To drop it. Anything. But I didn't dare open my mouth. First of all, I knew Feliks wouldn't listen to a damn word I say. He's a determined nation. Always has been. He knows how to get things done. He knows how to surge through periods of oppression and darkness, and still remain unchanged. He's not afraid to get hurt.

But not me.

I am easily scarred.

So easy to crack.

Way to easy.

And both Ivan and Nikolai know that.

Then all hell broke loose. Feliks broke away from Eduard's grip and lunged at Nikolai. What happened next…I couldn't tell you. I literally curled up in a ball right there, and screamed. But no one really heard me. Because everyone was now screaming and yelling and fighting and…everything was so disconnected. So cold.

I cried. Yes, I cried. I, the supposed "independent" country of Lithuania, curled up in a ball on a cafeteria floor amidst a horde of fighting nations, and cried. I tried to scream as much as I can, anything to block out the noise. I didn't want to know what was happening.

I should've known that something like this would happen.

Maybe it's best if I leave now. Never come back. Just stay in my country in isolation. I was the happiest then, reveling in the new freedom of my country.

Everyone says that interaction with foreign nations leads to success.

Not for me.

Then I felt someone grab my wrists. I screamed louder and squirmed, kicked, tossed…but the grip grew tighter. This mysterious person was strong enough to pull me to my feet and drag me away. I kept my eyes closed as I wept bitterly, making as much noise as I could to distract myself from the chaos that was occurring around me.

I gave up the struggle. I let the person drag me like a rag doll. I'm always a fucking rag doll anyways.

Then, the screams subsided. My sobs grew silent as I shuddered and spluttered incoherently. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. The air around me was a lot thinner. Quieter. The sounds of the chaotic fight in the cafeteria were dulled, muffled…

"Hey! Hey calm down!"

I bit quivering lip to stop any more sobs from escaping my lips. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry at first, but Alfred eventually came into focus.

He had both his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me cautiously with wide cerulean eyes. He had a large cut down the side of his cheek, and there were a few tears in his clothing, but nothing serious. I hiccupped slightly and attempted to wipe the tears that kept cascading from my eyes. I tried, and failed to suppress my shuddering.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and nervous. I was shocked by his genuine concern. I've never been paid attention to by the big shot nations…except for Russia. But obviously, that's a different story.

I wanted to nod yes, but I couldn't. Instead I shuddered again, unable to form words. I shook my head as I felt more tears leak out of my eyes.

Alfred sighed. "Come on," he said, gently taking my hand and steering me farther and farther away from the cafeteria doors. "Let's go back up to the room."

I let him lead me to our room, blindly. I wanted nothing more than to collapse on my bed and just cry. Or sleep. Sleep sounded good as well.

This may be the only time I'll be able to sleep peacefully.

I think I may have tripped up a few stairs, as well as stumbled over my feet, but I don't really remember. I am ashamed to think about how delirious and hysterical I was.

Maybe it's my mental cracking point.

Maybe I would eventually become like Ivan, mentally unstable, broken forever…

I do remember feeling the pillows meet my face as I fell onto my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut and took deep shuddering breaths. I was vaguely aware of Alfred's careful movements as he made his way to his bed. I heard the bedsprings creak as he sat on it.

Silence. Then…

"I'm sorry…you know…that that had to happen…"

I didn't respond.

"It sorta made me realize that that kind of shit must've happened to you all the time when…well…you know…"

He trailed off. I still didn't respond.

"And it sucks that you have to room with him…after everything you've probably been through…if it really bothers you, you could go down to the office and ask for a switch in rooms…"

But he sounded half-hearted. Room changes were pretty much nonnegotiable here. I never understood why, exactly.

Finally, I lifted my head from the pillow and sat up. I knew that my eyes were swollen and that my face was blotchy. The air against my bare face was cold and it made me shiver violently. Unwanted thoughts started to flood my head. What if Feliks got extremely hurt? Are my brothers okay? Was everybody else hurt? What about Yekaterina, or Ivan, or Nikol-

No.

I don't care if that bastard got hurt, or not. If anything, he deserved it. Then why can't I feel the rage I want to feel at him? Why do I feel more concerned than anything?

I looked at Alfred and attempted a weak smile. "It doesn't matter, anymore…" I said so softly, that it was almost a whisper.

Alfred looked genuinely sad. He stared straight at me, scarcely blinking, as if he were witnessing something amazingly tragic. I looked down at my hands quickly, slightly unnerved to say the least.

"Have you ever tried fighting back?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to angrily retort that I have, and it hasn't worked, but I faltered. Now that I think about it…I've never really fought. Only once. Once. And that was when I screamed at Ivan, cursed his household, and booked it. All too quickly for anyone to react. And even though I breathed in the fresh air of independence, it still broke my heart. Because to my horror, I realized that I actually cared for these people. I felt like I was betraying someone.

No. I never fought back because I was afraid of being hit, beaten, yelled at, punished…

My will was broken a long time ago. I was hoping that when I became independent, I'd rebuild that fighting spirit in me. And it did work. But apparently, I didn't build it up enough.

Because I am still scared shitless.

So I let out a breath and shook my head. "No."

Alfred was silent for another long second. Then he said, "Look, you don't have to really listen to me if you don't want to, because I obviously don't know shit. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to at least…snap back a bit. Now that you're independent, you have every right to do so."

I shook my head. "They'll just hurt me."

"Then pull out the knife or the gun or whatever. At least try and protect yourself," Alfred said, his tone becoming slightly annoyed. I don't blame him. He probably thought I was some pathetic excuse for a country.

And I wish I could follow his advice. I really do. But that's just not me. I don't have that "fighting spirit." I'm not like Feliks or Elizabeta, who won't hesitate to pull out the weapon and beat the shit out of someone when threatened or angered. I try and avoid conflict. I really do.

So I looked at Alfred full in the face and smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks…for everything."

He looked slightly taken aback, but then a confident smile broke out on his face. "No problem. I am the hero after all!"

XX

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the room, or wandering down the halls, asking anybody (okay, not just anybody…only the smaller, less intimidating micro-nations) for news. Were there any serious injuries? Were Feliks and my brothers okay?

Apparently, Feliks had landed himself in the infirmary, unconscious, and severely wounded. That nearly gave me a heart attack, but I was also told that he should be fine and that his injuries didn't have any damaging effects on his country. Both my brothers got hurt as well, but they weren't knocked out or anything. They just went to the infirmary for some bandages and medicine before they were released. There were several other injuries as well, and the infirmary was filled with nations. I started to feel like an absolute weakling. After all, I had made no attempt to fight. I had just curled up in a ball and started screaming while waiting for a nation like America to rescue me. Typical.

As for the THEM…well…Ivan was unscathed. Though I heard he had knocked several people out with his pipe out of defense. I think he caused most of the injuries. I don't know what happened to Yekaterina, but I'm assuming that she's okay. She always knew how to take care of herself, even if she was a bit of a crybaby. Nikolai…well…he was fine. Scary and ruthless, but fine. He got a few injuries, but nothing serious.

My blood chills at the thought of him hammering mercilessly down on Feliks. The thought makes me sick. It makes me want to cry. And to think that Nikolai was barely scratched…that just scares me. This is the man I am sharing a room with.

And I'm absolutely positive that he's pissed beyond belief right now. I have an eerie feeling that I'm going to be the one he's going to take his anger out on.

So I stayed under the covers. And waited. And waited.

Now it was past midnight.

Alfred was asleep. Jesus, he snores. Freaking annoying as hell. But it's not like I have the nerve to do anything about it. I am spineless Lithuania after all.

But Nikolai hadn't shown up. I don't know whether to be more scared, or relieved.

His vacant bed looked ghostly under the pale moonlight that filtered through the window. So I squeezed my eyes shut again. I can't take this. I can't…

The door opened.

I let out a whimper of fear. The footfalls that proceeded were heavy, dragging…laboring.

My heart stopped. The room was icy. Chills ran down my spine and my breath hitched. Something was wrong. I knew it was Nikolai who came in. But something was wrong. Extremely wrong. I didn't know how I knew this…but I just did. I could sense it.

So my curiosity peaked. I turned my head toward the door and opened my eyes. What I saw shocked me beyond belief.

It actually shattered my heart.

There was Nikolai.

And he was covered in blood.

It dripped all over his skin and stained his platinum blonde hair.

And it was his blood.

I could see that his clothes were tattered. His white skin had lashes and thick bruises. His eyes…I could see them. They were clouded in pain, in absolute misery…even fear.

For the first time, I didn't see that cold hatred.

He was biting his lip. As if to prevent himself from crying.

Something inside me completely shifted. My fear dissipated. I watched as he limped further into the room and closed the door behind him. Even in the moonlight, he stood out, as clear as day, a bloody, walking corpse.

This didn't make sense.

He got out of the fight unscathed.

I know he did. I actually saw him walk by earlier a few hours after the fight, but I hid before he could see me.

Then it clicked.

He must've gotten punished for his actions.

Punished for catalyzing an unneeded fight.

Punished by none other than the master of sadistic punishment himself.

His own brother. His beloved brother.

I felt sick again.

But it wasn't out of fear.

I was shocked by the sudden need to cry, to reach out, and comfort him. After all, he didn't deserve it. Not after all the things he's done to me.

But, I never knew that Ivan…that Ivan could ever hurt his siblings. Even if he detested and feared Nikolai, I never believed that he could bring the pipe down on him.

I sat up in my bed, and stared at him.

I know. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Something in me must really want to commit suicide or something.

Nikolai turned at the sound of my creaking bed, and I held my breath. His eyes narrowed, and a dark shadow swirled in his eyes. I gulped. He didn't move a muscle.

This was dangerous ground I was treading on.

But I plowed on anyway. Because I am the absolutely stupid.

"W-What happened?" I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper.

"Shut the fuck up, you lecherous little bitch," he spat at me. His voice, though wracked with pain, did not lack the usual venom. I cringed.

He turned back toward his bed, and opened his suitcase, his hands shaking. He pulled out a shirt, but the blood was dripping from his fingers onto the fabric, staining it scarlet. I could tell he was gritting his teeth.

I've never seen Nikolai Braginski tremble before.

"Aren't you going to w-wash up?" I asked. Why am I still talking? You'll probably regret this tomorrow, Elena.

"Fuck you."

Those two words stabbed me like knives. They sounded so venomous, so dangerous, so threatening, coming from his lips. But for some reason, I couldn't get myself to back down. Funny, how things always seem to revolve around him. I know he doesn't deserve it. Not at all.

"But you'll bleed to death…" I pleaded. I could feel the tears build up in my eyes.

He spun around to face me, his eyes filled with cruelty and a burning, fiery hatred. So fiery that I could literally feel the flames lick my skin.

He hissed at me, "You are an idiotic little cunt. I said that I'd kill you if you ever talk to me, or my siblings ever again. I should've gotten rid of you a long time ago, because you are a useless piece of shit. Count your breaths, you little harlot, because you'll be breathing your last tomorrow."

I gaped at him.

Ho…ly….SHIT.

Did he just say that to me?

Actually…I'm really not surprised.

It's just…been a while. It's a sickening thought to think that I expected remarks like these every day when I lived in the THEIR house. I guess I have to get used to them again.

Oh, and I have to watch my back, apparently.

I should've probably grabbed some sort of weapon while he wasn't looking, and hammered down on his skull. I should've probably defended my dignity by screaming at him or cursing him out. I should've shown the defiance that I, as a nation, truly possessed.

But no. Shamefully, I didn't do any of these things.

Instead, I turned toward my suitcase and started to dig. After searching through layers of clothing, I found it. My large first aid kit. Even though it was large, it still looked rather pathetic. I know that it had some sanity cloths, anti-bacterial cream, bandages, and an endless amount of gauze. The gauze should help with the bleeding.

So I started to numbly make my way toward him. And I stopped right behind him, his back still turned to me as he took out more things from his suitcase. It was even worse up close. I saw the thick lashes running up his back, dripping and spilling blood. I gulped. I cleared my throat.

He turned around, and almost jumped away from my close proximity in disgust. His eyes narrowed as he helplessly reached for his knife in his pocket, but his movements were clumsy, trembling, his face contorted with pain.

It was pitiful.

I took a few steps closer to him, my heart pounding uncontrollably, the air around me thick, hot, and cold all at the same time. I felt like I was floating for some odd reason, my stomach fluttering and my breaths shallow and uneven.

He was so much taller than me. Almost as tall as Ivan. My head barely reached his collarbone.

I held out the first aid kit to him. "Take it. Use as much as you want."

For the first time, my voice wasn't shaking. It didn't even sound scared. No…I don't know how it sounded.

For a split second, Nikolai looked genuinely shocked. But then the mask of hatred came back as he pushed it away, making my stumble backwards slightly.

"Why would I ever accept help from a low-life like you?" he spat.

Yes, the words hurt, but I wasn't perturbed. I held it out to him again. "Because you're bleeding up a shit storm."

Did I just really say that?

A flash of confusion washed over his face, but again, he quickly got rid of it.

"Get away from me!" he hissed snidely.

The constant drip drip of the blood was driving me crazy. It dripped everywhere, all over the floor, all over his bed…everywhere.

So I did what all crazy chicks, or masochistic nations do. I reached out and grabbed his wrist. Firmly, but gently. A shock wave went through me. The blood soaked all over my hand, but I kept my hold. Nikolai winced in pain, and his eyes were burning with abhorrence once again. He struggled to jerk his arm away, but he couldn't. A slight moan escaped his lips as his fingers uncurled, helpless…

Helpless.

Never would I have thought that Nikolai Braginski could be helpless.

He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at his feet. But I could see his defeated face. No hatred. Bitterness, yes, but no hatred. Sadness. A lot of it.

"It wouldn't kill you to accept help, when you're offered it," I stated.

Where was this courage coming from? Where were these words coming from? Surely this isn't the spineless Elena?

The moonlight hit my arm hand on his wrist. The sleeve of my red top had pulled up a bit. My stomach turned as I saw the faint, but definite scars on my skin. I knew that if I were to be stripped, one would see that my body was covered in these scars. They viciously ravaged and snaked all over my skin…scars that would heal…but never truly fade.

And an abundance of these were caused by none other than the very person I was trying to comfort now.

And I saw it. Nikolai was staring at my arm as well. I couldn't read his face. It was blank and cold and steely. His violet eyes were frozen. I held my breath. Time seemed to stand still.

Then, ever so slowly, he reached out his other trembling arm, and gently wrapped his fingers around my hand. He carefully pried my fingers off of his wrist. Almost... tenderly.

I forgot how to breathe. How to think.

My heart was literally hammering away at my ears.

Never has Nikolai Braginski treated me with any form of subtle gentleness. With caution. It was almost as if…as if…

He turned his head to the side and glared coldly at the opposite wall.

"You're not the only one who has scars, you know," he whispered.

And I knew it was over. He pushed past me, causing me to stumble again, and made his way to the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of blood.

I stood there frozen for a second, the air magnetic and swirling and warm and cold and…hand tingling and electrifying…and…and…

I looked back at his bed. It was covered in blood.

I sighed shakily, and placed the first aid kit right on the bed, where it glowed under the moonlight.