Darkness of Ours (RusAme)

Chapter 8

Russia's P.O.V

Night was always my favorite time of the day.

Darkness encapsulated the world in a temporary lullaby. Dreams invaded minds and showed people their deepest desires. Stars dangled above in the sky, and the moon cast small shadows on the earth in which it orbited.

However, with dreams came nightmares. Horrible nightmares that preyed on a person's fears and insecurities. They indulged in one's anxiety, as they made your heart rate accelerate.

Claws dug into my shoulders, which spurred my eyes to open up to the darkened colors of the room. Drowsiness threatened to pull me back under its clutches, yet, the small pinching pain on my upper back dragged me into reality.

My chest was weighed down, as the thing on top of it shook violently. It's nails pierced into my flesh, it's muscles contracted, and it's limbs spasmed. I was perplexed as to why this was happening, but it scarred me.

"America...wake up..."I demanded softly. I felt my hands stroll down his spine, while I heard his irrational breathing spike.

My senses had woken me up by now, and I was getting frightened, "America, wake up." My voice was louder, and my tone had harshened. My hands stopped running down his back, as they drifted over to squeeze his shoulders.

"Hun, please wake up, I'm getting worried." Instead of sounding even remotely calm, the words came out in a frazzled, untamed way.

I shook his shoulders, "America, please..." The last word was lost to the night, as I began to panic.

And that's when he sputtered to life, like an old car engine.

He sprang off of me, as his chest heaved up and down. It was as if he was relishing in the fact that there was air for him to breathe. His hands left my shoulders, but I could still feel the indents where his nails previously resided. He scanned the room in fast head movements, whilst he registered where he was.

"America, what's wrong?" I asked, as my hand reached out to him. But, as soon as it had made contact with his skin, he jerked away from the touch.

"Dream...Just a dream..." He wheezed out, as he continued to inhale air extensively. "No, no no no no! I thought...I really thought...I was back, but fuck no! I'm just going insane in this hell hole..."

Even if I had no idea what he was going on about, I knew that he wasn't insane. I sat up with the intention to listen to him, "America, what are you ta-"

"You!" He pointed his finger at me. "You're not really him, just my shitty imagination...Ugh, even the limb splicing was better than these fake realities."

I reached out for him again, "But I am h-"

Smack!

My left cheek burned, and the walls resonated with the previous sound, as well as America's frantic yelling.

He slapped me...he actually slapped me...

My face looked dumbfounded. Ever since America ran into my arms, I had received nothing but affection, compliments, and love. But I never expected him to lash out, especially at me.

"Don't fucking touch me, you ripoff!" He yelled, while he rose to his feet. "You're only here to manipulate my mind into thinking this is real, but I've outsmarted you. Now, go disappear into that grimmy pit that you came out of!"

He tapped his foot impatiently when I didn't disappear, "Well, what are you waiting around for? Go take your sorry ass somewhere else."

"America, this isn't a dream...it's all real." I pleaded, as I got up and tried to reason with him.