Allison's POV
After Peter left I layed on my bed staring at the ceiling aimlessly. My own bed felt good for once. My walkie talkie from my Dad and Nat went off in my bag.
(A/N - This parts in Russian but also written in English)
"Привет. (Hello)" It was Nat's voice.
"Привет. (Hello)" I said.
"Слава богу, это ты. (Thank god it's you)" She said.
"What are you saying?" Dad's voice came over the walkie talkie very faintly.
"Russian." I said.
"Он никогда не поймет. (He'll never understand)" I said.
"Ага. (Yup)" She said.
"Ok well please tell me what's happening." Dad said.
"Maybe." Nat said.
"If you don't then have fun with your Russian child." He said.
"Так где же ты, Алли, потому что, если я не ошибаюсь, ты должен был встретиться с нами в Германии?" (So where are you, Alli, because if I'm not mistaken your supposed to be meeting us in Germany?) Nat said.
"Разве это не смешно? Я должен встретиться с тобой в Германии, но я в Нью-Йорке и вроде как, может быть, в Комплексе." I said.
"ENGLISH PLEASE!" Dad yelled.
"She's in New York at the Compound (Long dramatic pause) wait you're in NEW YORK?!" Nat said.
"Насколько ты тупой?" (How stupid are you?) She said.
"Я просто пришла к Питеру, и мне надоело бегать. Я просто хочу хоть раз в жизни побывать в одном месте. (I just came to see Peter and I'm tired of being on the run. I just want to be in one place for once in my life.) I said.
A tear fell from my eye.
"English!" Dad said.
"She went to go see Peter and doesn't want to be on the run anymore." Nat said.
"Alli?"
I didn't realize it but I was crying.
"You need to come and meet us in Germany." Dad said.
"НЕТ! Я НЕ ХОЧУ ПРОДОЛЖАТЬ ЭТО ДЕЛАТЬ! Мне надоело действовать, будто ВСЁ ХОРОШО, НО ЭТО НЕТ! Я ВСЕГДА В СРЕДЕ ВСЕХ ПРОБЛЕМ!" (NO! I DON'T"T WANT TO KEEP DOING THIS! I'M TIRED OF ACTING LIKE EVERYTHING IS FINE BUT IT'S NOT! I'M ALWAYS IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THE PROBLEMS!) I threw the walkie talkie on the ground and started to scream.
"Я НЕНАВИЖУ СВОЮ ЖИЗНЬ!" (I HATE MY LIFE!)
I broke the mirror on my wall and shattered a bunch of pictures. My hands were full of blood from breaking glass.
'I have to stop being the way I am or I might kill myself.'
(Word Count ~ 417)
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The Nightingale
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