Wake Up

<[{Russia POV}]>

"Lithuania...?"

I know that smell . . . I know that sound . . . and this feeling in the air . . . I know that too.

Everything here is so familiar . . . but it feels so wrong . . .

What happened here?

"Lithuania, are you in here?"

This smell . . . so irony. So metallic. It floods up my nose, into my lungs and makes me want to vomit. I've smelt it before. So many times.

Part of my mind says "too many times." . . . Another part growls, "not enough."

But why is it here now? I didn't punish anyone today. Those two did an acceptable job in their work, and I haven't seen him all day.

. . . Where did he go? Where was he all day?

Was he in here . . . surrounded by this "awful, horrible" - no, "wonderful, amazing" - smell?

"Lithuania? I kept calling for you but you never came. So I decided to see what was keeping you. You know as well as anyone I don't like to be ignored."

Why is it so dark? And that sound . . .

". . . I know you're in here Lithuania. Why aren't you answering me? . . . Lithuania?"

I take a step forward, and that smell gets stronger . . .

And so does that noise.

It's breathing – no . . . gasping, panting. What is this? He's Whimpering . . . and sobbing . . .

But I didn't punish him.

"I see you, Lithuania~. Oh my . . . your clothes . . . they're all red . . ."

Red? Red is blood. Blood is life. You need life.

My little Toris is covered in blood . . . so he will be fine, right? How could he not?

Yes . . . yes he'll be just fine. He is coated in a thick blanket of life . . . it must feel nice.

"Get up Toris. I am hungry. You make me food, da?"

He doesn't move . . . not even an inch.

He just sits there with ruined clothes, reeking of life.

And then I see them.

" . . . Toris . . . your wrists . . . what happened to them?"

Each has a large slit in it. Red pours from the cuts as water would from a faucet.

Red . . . red is blood. Blood is life. You need life.

The life is streaming out of my little Lithuania. It surrounds him. Engulfs him. Drowns him.


"Toris . . . Toris, say something."

Not a single syllable is whispered. But the sound of labored breathing and quiet cries carries on.

" . . . Are you crying, Toris?"

I kneel beside him, dirtying myself with his escaped life.

"What happened? You tell me what happened, da?"

It was a command. And just like always, he obeyed it perfectly.

". . . What do you mean you can't take it anymore?"

Oh Lithuania . . . why did you do this to yourself?

. . . Me? Because you're scared of me . . . because you hate me . . .

". . . Lithuania . . ."

Don't you know I love you?

I guess not. Perhaps punishment is not the best way to show adoration.

"Well let's move passed this, da? Come, let me get you bandaged up and into some clean clothes."

No? . . . What do you mean no? I thought that you'd learn by now not to say no to me.

"Lithuania, get up."

. . . Why is your breathing getting lighter? Are you finally catching your breath? Your eyes are starting to slip closed . . . you must be exhausted. But you can't sleep yet, Lithuania. Not right now. We need to get you clean. You are broken. I need to put you back together. You aren't allowed to sleep just quite yet.

"I said get up."

Silence . . .

"Lithuania, open your eyes."

Nothing.

The atmosphere changed. It feels . . . heavier now. Quieter. It feels like . . .

". . . Lithuania?"

It feels like . . .

". . . Toris . . . why . . . why did you stop breathing?"

It feels like death.

"T-Toris?"

He's so still . . . so pale . . . so cold. Why isn't he listening to me? Why won't he answer me?

I grab him by his shoulders. There are so many questions. I need answers.

"Toris! Wake up! Wake up right now!"

I need him to answer these questions.

"That's an order, da?!"

I need him to open his eyes. To wake up.

"If you don't wake up right now, I swear to god I will kill you!"
I need him . . .

"Do you hear me, Lithuania?! I said wake up!"

He keeps me sane . . . and yet at the same time he makes me crazy . . .

Why isn't he waking up? Normally his eyes snap open if I so much as whisper something to him.

"Toris, please! Please open your eyes!"

My face is becoming warm and my vision blurres.

. . . What is this? Are these tears? It's been so long since I've shed any. I've actually forgotten what it's like to cry.

"Toris! Toris, you can't do this to me!"

My hands shake.

I think . . . I think he'll keep on sleeping.

"Don't hurt me like this!"

No matter how loud I scream . . .

"Nyet . . . Nyet, Вы не можете уйти! You can't leave! Toris, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything!"

No matter how desperately I plead . . .

"If you wake up I promise not to ever hurt you again! I'll give you anything you want! Freedom! I'll give you freedom, Toris! I-I'll let you go. W-Wake up and I'll set you free!"

No matter how hard I cry . . .

"Toris . . . pl-please Toris, I need you . . . I-I'll do a-anything . . . j-just . . ."

I don't think he'll ever wake up . . .

"Just open your eyes, Toris . . . j-just once more . . . please?"

Is this what it feels like . . .

"Please . . ."

To be defeated?

"Wake up . . ."