Readers,
HOLY SHIT, IT FEELS SOOOOOOOO GOOD TO BE BACK! I've been grounded for three months! This is fucking beautiful! I'm so happy, now! Let's fix that, shall we? Hmm. . . How about some more axe-murdery Russians? Sorry, Russians. It's just fun to use your country as a serial killer. Don't hate me.
So, anyone remember that story where those two college kids share a dorm? The one kid stays home studying, and the other goes out partying? Then the kid who was out all night comes home, he decides not to turn on the lights. Yeah? Yeah? You remember that? Yeah, I bet you do. . . Featuring Ivan, Toris, Raivis, and Eduard.
Damn it, I feel great! Y'know? I'm not depressed, I've slept well for the past week, my grades are pulling up. . . Oh! And my arms and hands and phalanges have stopped hurting! YUHSSSSSSS! FUCK YOU, SAD STUFF! YOU'RE DEAD, BIATCH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA- Ehem. Excuse me.
Written to the sound of Savant (ISM and Sledgehammer) for, like, an hour. I never get sick of them, do I? I don't own Hetalia, the Hetalia characters, or this story. Actually, I don't know who wrote the story. . . Oh, well! Who gives a flying fuck~? Lezgo~!
Otto~
Raivis sighed, leaning up against the man he considered his brother. The brunette glanced down at the smaller one, green eyes glittering with curiosity.
"What's wrong?" He asked sincerely, alerting a brunette with glasses sitting a couple desks away.
Raivis shook his head. "Nothing, Toris, not really. . ." He mumbled.
Toris frowned slightly, furrowing his thin, feminine brows. "But?"
The blonde looked up at him, not quite sure what to say. There was a 'but', but he really didn't want to say it.
The brunette with glasses walked over, books tucked under his arm. "What is it, Raivis?" He inquired, twisting his head to one side.
Raivis looked down at his hands, shifting uneasily. "W-Well, uh. . . "He let out a breathy sigh, hugging his knees. "That man who killed that Chinese man, and. . . Well, frankly, slaughtered that gay couple a couple towns over. . ." He swallowed, suddenly sweating. "He. . . He escaped, just a few hours ago. There was a news report in my last class. . ."
Eduard, the one with the glasses, straightened up, and cleared his throat nervously. Toris turned sheet-white. The three had known the hook-handed man quite well before he'd 'gone off the deep end'. He had adopted the 'brothers' into his home when they were very young, and had been a wonderful father for years. Then, one day, he snapped.
The 'brothers' had no idea why. They were so young at the time, all they could do was take the beatings, and wonder what had happened to make him this way. Raivis was terrified of the man, not for his own safety, but only for the well-being of the oldest brother.
Toris had always been the father's favorite. Some days, when Eduard or Raivis would mess up really badly, he would 'accidentally' break a vase, or a lamp, or a dish; solely to take the beating himself and protect the younger boys. He had made a good brother for years, and he had the scars to prove it.
Eduard shifted uncomfortably after a minute of silence. "I'm quite certain we'll be fine, gentlemen." He smiled hollowly at them. "As long as we take regular precautions. Seesitapeaei julgetullakuskilmukallid vennaduuesti."
Raivis stared at him, confused. He wasn't able to understand Estonian like Toris could. Toris nodded grimly, then excused himself to the bathroom.
They could hear his wails of terror from there.
That night, there was supposed to be a party on the campus to celebrate finals. Raivis and Eduard both decided to go for once, trying to clear their minds. Toris, however, would not speak. He didn't eat dinner that night, and wouldn't get off of his bed.
Although his brothers tried their best to lure him out of seclusion, but he never responded to any attempt, much to the pain and frusteration to the younger boys. Sadly, Toris watched the two leave once the clock struck ten, then curled up into a ball, like he would when he was little, and silently sobbed until he fell asleep.
It was almost three in the morning when the two younger brothers came home. The cold night air was still pitch-black as they stumbled home, sleepy and intoxicated. As Eduard unlocked the door, Raivis dozed off, and ended up falling asleep against his brother's shoulder, still standing. Eduard sighed, opening the door with one hand, and lifting his 'baby brother' up, bridal-style, carrying him inside, and shutting and locking the door.
Once inside, Eduard, in his drunken state, didn't notice tat the lights were off. He didn't notcie the faint whimpering in the background, which he assumed was Toris still panicking. He didn't notice when he dripped over something that felt kind of like kicking a backpack. All he noticed was the warmth of the bed the three shared as he flopped down onto it, and the chill radiating off of his older 'brothers' skin next to him as he felt himself fall asleep.
The next morning, both Eduard and Raivis woke up to pounding headaches, raging through their skulls like fire. The older of the two looked over at the clock, adjusting his slighly cracked glasses as he did so. "Damn." He cursed. "The alarm didn't go off. We overslept." He graoned, flopping back and gripping his head.
That's when he noticed that toris hadn't woken up.
Raivis must have noticed it too, for he was over by the boy's bedside in less than a second. "It's going to be okay, brother!" He promised. "Hiding won't accomplish anything, you know that! We have to go and face the world like men!"
Eduard frowned when five minutes of silence passed. "Toris?" He asked, reaching for the blanket that covered him, and pulling a little. Loose, not held down like someone panicking. "Brother, are you alright?" He pulled the sheets back, and let out a shreik when he saw his eyes.
Toris' eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and glazed over, the sparkling green irises speckled with blood that had crusted around his body like a suit. His head had been bashed in numerous times, and his face was set in a perpetual cry for help. Eduard could see where the tears had dried, and here they had dripped.
That's when both boys noticed that the mattress they had slept on the night had dried blood smeared all over it, as if it were artwork. A sentence, scrawled in their brother's blood, that would haunt the minds of the boys for the rest of their lives, and eventually drive Raivis insane; "Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the lights?"
Scary story+A knack for writting horror+midnight= regret.
So, yeah, I added a lot. . . Oh well, I really don't care! I think I like how this turned out. The last half was written without auto-correct, 'cause my Daddy's laptop sucks dick. Sorry if it didn't turn out well. Glad that I'm back, fangirls? So am I. Expect a lot more, kids.
Adieu. Take it easy, guys.