Monday Story: Before His Eyes

Brought to you by: Jenna (The-Cookie's-Monster)

Pairing/Character: No pairings; Mainly just Latvia

A/N: Sensitive Subjects – Holocaust, Death, Blood… So, I recently learned a bit more about Latvia. There was a large massacre, called the Railroad Park massacre, during World War Two there, this story is about Latvia's experience and the Daugavpils ghetto. The number of deaths was unknown but only 1, 150 were reported killed, though witnesses who survived said it was more. I got an awful/good idea for a Hetalia . This is the product.

Daugavpils, Latvia

Early.

All Latvia knew was that it was early morning and someone was dragging him out of bed by the hair. He let out a cry of pain, squirming as he was dropped on the floor. He blinked sleepy eyes at the man in front of him, who was shouting at him in German. He managed to catch a few words, that Prussia had taught him, but the message was clear. Get ready to leave.

For what?

He desperately wanted to ask, but his mouth refused to cooperate, meaning he just nodded mutely and hurriedly dressed. He was confused, scared, and desperately wanted his 'brothers'. Even Russia would be better.

His homeland, it was slowly being destroyed, and Germany and man he once feared and respected was behind it all. Obviously, he had taken to long, because the man, soldier, he realized, grabbed him by the hair and drug him out of the house. He whispered, crying out softly for Estonia. The man shouted for him to shut up, so he did fearfully. What would become of him?

He sniffled softly as he was led over to a place. Dzelzceļniecki dārzs, or Railwayman's Garden. It was one of his favorite places to visit. Why were they dragging him here. He saw people digging. Why were they digging, what were they doing?

Then he saw him. Germany. He stared at the much taller nation as he was dropped before him, and looked up, eyes tearfilled, silently pleading. He knew where this was going now. He whimpered when the blonde pulled him up, turning him to watch the people digging trenches. His people. Working as slaves.

They probably didn't even know they were digging their own grave.

He saw a young mother with a child, probably 3 or 4. His heart ached and he began to cry, someone slapped him, telling him to stop acting so foolish. Was he being foolish? Perhaps. He sniffled, wiping his ears. He had to be strong for his people. He caught the child's eyes and gave a sad smile.

Soon, it was done. The men stopped digging, and were sent in line. Germany gripped his head, forcing him to stare at the people. He prayed softly, which earned him a punch. He cried out in pain. He watched as his people were marched forward, some were praying, or singing softly. Songs of hope, and peace. Soon, the gunshots began. He was forced to watch as his own people willingly shot innocent civilians. Their kin, their family, their countrymen.

Soon, the trenches were filled. The smell of blood and death hug in the air, and those who weren't dead yet were forced back to work digging more mass graves. Tears fell down the young boy's cheeks, and landed on the ground beneath him.

The day passed as when the sun rose, three men loaded rifles, while another was shoved into his hands. His eyes widened, almost comically and he shook his head. Now, he drew the line. He pretended he was talking to the mirror.

"N-No. I refuse to kill my people. If you want me to kill them, you are stupid. I refuse." He said, his voice firm, and growing louder.

He paused, before closing his eyes, dropping the gun. Germany approached him, slapping him hard on the cheek. Other officers joined in on the beatings. He could handle this. Think of something else. He old himself. He kept crying out in pain, and watching through blurry eyes as another man picked up his dropped rifle. The shootings began again.

Every bullet was a needle. Slowly, the beating was growing too painful to take. His eyes closed and he blacked out. He didn't know what happened after than. The doctor said he was passed out for days. Dehydration that would kill a human, internal bleeding. Cuts and bruises. He would be dead if he wasn't a nation he had been told.

Weeks later, he found himself being locked up with a frown. He was herded inside the ghetto with so many other of his people. He tried to sooth and calm them. He was one of the few men in there, most had already been killed. He tried to keep the children from crying, but what could he tell them. Even he didn't know how this was going to end up. They were locked up and watched day and night. The only reason most were still alive is until they decided to kill them.

Not all he men were bad though. Some were even kind. They kept him updated on the state of things outside. Some got to know the people personally, and he, by the end of the first week, knew most of the names himself. It seemed silly and trivial, but he taught the children games and tried to keep them happy.

Sometimes, the guards would lie, saying the Jews about to be killed were needed. He never got a chance to thank these men, for protecting his people, at least partly. They received little food, and usually, what food he got, he gave most away to the elders. He was slowly becoming thinner and frailer.

Soon, public hangings began happening. He was forced by the gaurds to watch the deaths, and he could feel himself slipping away.

Months passed, he no longer kept track anymore. It had cooled down, then warmed up, so he suppoed it was about a year since he'd been in there. Many large mass killings occurred, and soon, few were still alive. The few that were, including him, were transferred to another camp.

Many more months of death passed. These faded into years…

Before his eyes, he had watched so many die. Innocent people who did nothing but believe. Years later, he would return and pay his respects, but that is a story for another time.

A/N: I am so sorry Raivis… T.T