Gold Blood

Prelude:два

Hey, trigger warning! If you are sensitive to rape, trauma and mental breakdown don't read this

Everything hurt, horribly so. Especially his throat, which burned from the cries that went unanswered. How could they do this to him...? They were his friend! He desperately tried to pull out the chains, the pain in his abdomen only getting unbearably worse. It hurt so bad, he wanted them off him. " GET OFF!" He practically begged, only for a choked out sob to leave him right after. Everything hurt, so so bad. Their disgusting hands burned deep in his skin, causing him to flail and cry out for someone, anyone to help him.
A sickening chuckle could be heard from the man above him, a sick pleasure derived from seeing him in pain. Good did he want to just rip that horrid smile off their face and leave them to rot. But he was powerless, and in so much pain...he sobbed even more, their face forever burned in his memory, something that would haunt him for years.
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And then he woke up, and the real hell began.
Soviet gasped loudly, sitting in his own pool of sweat. His heart screaming in his chest. Everything in his body burned, their touches ghosting every inch of him. It was awful and all he could do was aggressively scratch at his skin. He scratched and scratched until his skin was irritated and until he inevitably bled and that was only when he stopped. The touches clouded by the stinging of his bleeding skin. He wanted to scream, but god knows he's put everyone through enough...he was just so tired, so afraid!

He got out of bed by then, just wanting to numb and rid himself of this awful feeling: everything felt so blurred, feeding into his hysteria. It felt just like Reich's home, the floral wallpaper blending into the hideous beige walls, sometimes covered in blood. This wasn't his house! He kept repeating, trying to stay silent. Deep down he knew this was his home, after all, it was warm and reichs home was cold and always smelled of blood. after a while he made it to the kitchen, desperately digging around for something, he didn't even care about the noise! If Reich wanted to kill him or drag him down the stairs to do whatever the sick duck pleased he'd fight like hell.

The sounds of footsteps still scared him, he turned around quickly, the bottle of whiskey in hand. Like hell he was going to let him walk all over him again. He paused when he saw Russia, dropping the bottle. The sob of relief left him as he hugged his son! His dear boy...

Russia reluctantly hugged back. He'd seen his father like this many times before, but it still felt so alien...so wrong. He pat his crying fathers shoulder, ignoring the broken glass and whiskey that littered the kitchen floor...that'd be something to deal with in the morning. Soviet hadn't been like this in years, he thought they were genuinely getting better. He was wrong, so so wrong, " papa...let's go to bed..." he stated, a gentle tone. Soviet nodded, as Russ turned to leave. Leaving them alone would surely leave them in this mood once more, so he led them to his room. He sighed in exhaustion, sitting on his soft bed and pat the spot beside him, " come on...it's say," he smiled, encouraging them to sit.

Soviet sighed, he trusted his son, they'd never hurt him, not like anyone else. With a tired smiled, he sat, shifting to lay down. He was calm now, which is good and would hopefully get him to sleep. He wrapped his arms around his son, closing his eyes. And the night continued in silence.

Russ hummed as he picked up the broken glass from last night. America opted to cook breakfast. Normally it was Soviets job but...he couldn't be trusted. At least not alone and he was still fast asleep. The two worked in silence, no one wishing to bring up the elephant in the room. Soviets declining mental health. Russia finally spoke, breaking the ice, " he had another nightmare again. I caught him in the kitchen," he stated. He could hear the sigh from the American.

" I know, I heard him..." he stated, his voice calm but definitely exhausted.

" What are we going to do?"

" Well, he needs to see a specialist, we can only do so much," Ame suggested. America suggested this before, but Soviet was heavily against it. After all, growing up like he did was difficult and seeing a shrink was considered weak. Soviet was anything but weak, at least to him.

" ...I guess I'll start looking," Russ sighed, getting up when his task was done.

By then his father had woken up, groggy and tired. His footsteps echoed through the hall as he entered the kitchen, greeted by the smell of bacon. He purred, sitting down at the dining table, " good morning..." he stated, choosing to ignore his recent hospital visit and the events of last night. Unfortunately, Finland had other plans.

" We heard you last night," he stated rather blankly. Russ froze at that, turning to the two. His father was never good with these kinds of situations. Soviet though, stayed quiet...what was there to say? Sorry? Sorry for what? Hell ut was already pathetic enough he spiraled from a nightmare. A NIGHTMARE! What was he a child?

Fin stayed quiet before he sighed, " I implore you to seek therapy-" he was cut off when Soviet slammed his hands at the table. He stood, giving Fin a glare.

" what you think I'm some weak kid? I don't need therapy! I'm perfectly fine!" He growled. Finland was having none of it.

" You were sobbing your eyes out last night and need I remember you relapsed and almost killed yourself?" He stated, all true. He stood, challenging Soviet to say anything to that. He knew they hated the idea of being weak, but he wasn't going to keep watching them suffer when they could see someone for their traumas.

Soviet said nothing, tapping at the scar on his wrist. He didn't want to even bring up the scratches and cuts that littered his chest and between his thighs, all that stung, reminding him of last night...that's when it hit. He was a mess. A freaking nightmare almost drove him insane, clinging to Russia like a baby...he couldn't even imagine the mental toll it took on everyone...

The room was silent, too silent. Russia feared whatever Soviets reaction would be. America had just stood there, finished with cooking, " Well?" He broke the silence.

With a heavy sigh from Soviet, he sat back down. " You're right...I'll start looking for a specialist after breakfast..."

Uhm yeah so I haven't posted in a year or more-! So uh hopefullyyyy I'll be posting more? It's been...it's been rough. I won't tell you the details but it's been whack and I just kinda forgot about this. Anyway hoping to post more bye-!