Warning: Pedophilia, abuse.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me...I know because I had to pay for the dvd. -_- lol
A/N: Hey, this chapter is short, but because it is only part one. I could not get the whole thing done, so I'll upload a part two either tomorrow or the day after.
My days passed by slowly, the cuts accumulating on my body. My body was numb, the beatings barely even a noticeable part of my day. My body and mind ached, my only relief being the depths of sleep.
Sometimes, sleep wouldn't even bless me, instead being indulged in our nightly ritual. The cold air would shock my body, hungry eyes staring at it with greed. I lay, staring at that spot of blood with a glazed over expression, willing my body to accept the cold, the eyes, to lie still.
Hands grazed over me softly. I twitched, my body lying still once more as I heard chuckling somewhere in the distance; but I paid it no mind, hoping the euphoria of unconsciousness would claim me.
It never did, and I stayed in a numb haze, letting him "appreciate" my body, as he now so often did, that spot of blood constantly mocking me. I still couldn't reach it, but by now it didn't matter, it was already a permanent stain on the wall. My shirt slipped back on my body, and lips pressed to my forehead. My eyes sealed shut, and finally I was gone; lost in a sea of nightmares, so lost that it was almost pleasurable.
The day came too fast, light streaming through my window as the scent of tea and scones filled my nostrils. I trudged through the house, worn and tired, seeking out the smell. I can't say it smelled good, by no stretch of the imagination did scones seem like a pleasant way to start my day; but the scent was familiar, a relief to my tired body and mind.
I sat at the table, allowing myself to relax against the chair, tea and a rather burnt scone placed in front of me. I shot him a grateful smile, too out of it to do much else.
A warm hand ruffled my hair, petting my head in an almost fatherly fashion. I melted into it, my blood shot eyes closing in an almost appreciative manner, loving the contact. Something about it always made me feel better. Perhaps because there were little ways he could hurt me there, maybe because I was sensitive, but I couldn't help always finding it wonderful. The loving, protective way he did it made me trust him completely.
He smiled down at me, and I ate the whole scone as a "thank you". Needless to say, I was eating it either way, but the thought of having the charred, crumbled substance shoved down my throat made me shudder. Swallow it with a swig of tea, then if you're lucky, you don't taste it.
Another kiss to the top of my head, and the Brit was out the door, leaving me confused, but happy.
My day went on undisterbed, Arthur seemed to have disappeared. I vaguely wondered where he had gone, but allowed myself the pure bliss of being alone, the peaceful silence encasing me.
I let myself drift off on the couch, sleeping gratefully through most of the afternoon. I can't remember a dream.
I remember once, the ladies in town told me little boys dream, said they dreamed of sports, and girls, and even sweets. I never did, there was never any sports, any girls, any sweets. Those kinds of ideals never blessed my dreams; it was merely me. Me, falling. Me, falling into the darkness. I just fell. Fell and fell and fell...and it was almost peaceful, a relief. It was a pleasant escape, and sometimes, I'd wish it were true.
I could just jump, and fall...and fall...and fallandfallandfallandfall...
And there would never be a bottom. I'd be left to myself, and my thoughts.
Andeverythingwouldbepeaceful
and I'd be gone...gonegonegonegonegone.
...but I couldn't do thtat. No, not to Arthur. Not to my beloved Arthur. How could I leave him? After he's "fed" me, clothed me, took care of me, always protected me. The thought itself was horrific. My beloved Arthur.
My thoughts ended with a familiar slam; the abrupt opening of my door waking me up, quickly bringing me out of my darkness and back to the dull light of reality. I yawned and smiled. "Welcome home Arthur."
No response.
He walked through the house with haste, closing himself in his room. He stayed there for the rest of the evening, allowing me to make my own dinner (luckily), and I did.
For the first time in weeks I realised how lonely it was to eat alone... Of course, it had it's advantages, I can't say I didn't enjoy my sweets. I knew it would have been trouble if he found me eating them.
The night went on as usual, and I resided in my room, yawning as I laid down for the rest of the night.
Good night, and may your dreams be nightmare free.