Stalker | ThirdUnion

40: Knock Knock

Reich opened his eyes slowly, yet he wished he wasn't able to open them. He didn't want to be here, he just wanted to be alone, but that wasn't going to happen. That would never happen.

The German stayed in bed for a moment, or in other words, for hours. He couldn't get himself up. His mind was too mentally drained and destroyed, and his body might as well be too.

His mind burned with hatred for that stupid Russian. Yet the German could not express that emotion, as his other ones were getting in the way.

He cried everyday now, as everyday Soviet would bother him.

At this point the German wouldn't mind not living anymore. A sad thought to think, but one he was indeed thinking. Though he didn't want to die, he couldn't think of any other way to get away from this terrible life he was stuck in.

The Russian soon came to bother him again, and was insistent on getting the German out of bed and moving. Though Reich wouldn't listen to him, he wouldn't move, so Soviet did the best thing he could think of. So he picked up his little German and ran off with him.

Soviet hummed softly as he carried his love to the little marble island that was in the kitchen. He honestly didn't mind that the place was small, it was the perfect size for him and his dear, and it wasn't like they where staying here forever.

Reich was placed onto a stool, and immediately put his head down onto his folded arms as they rested on the marble counter.

His head hurt, his heart hurt, his body hurt, his mind, his ears, his throat, everything hurt.

The earrings in his ears has been removed, but that didn't stop them from turning even more red than they should be. He continuously got migraine from them, and was sure that the holes on his ears were infected by now.

The migraines were terrible, and made his already hurt face hurt even more.

He was getting suspicious now that he might have a concussion. As he remembered faintly how Soviet punched him on that dreadful day. So, many, times.

His face was bruised from it, he knew that. He countlessly had dizzy moments, and times where his vision would get all blurry. Light hurt him terribly, and just made his growing pains hurt even more.

Which added to the German's hate for being out here, stuck in the lights, and with Soviet unfortunately.

The German truly didn't know what to do anymore about his situation. He had tried everything, everything he could think of. Yet he lost, every single time.

He had done enough crying, and fighting, and whatever. He had put up with Soviet's crap for so long know, and he didn't want to give up, he really really didn't want to. But be couldn't find anything left, he couldn't find any hope, any chance to save himself anymore.

The horrible truth of his reality was sinking in. There really was no way to escape Soviet, was there?

The German kept his head down, and his tears in. He couldn't think about that, he really really couldn't think about that.

Reich sat there for a moment, as there was no one around him for a couple of minutes, until Soviet showed up of course.

The Russian's voice disgusted him, yet Reich couldn't bring himself to cover his ears.

He had no idea what the Russian was saying, but a paper was suddenly placed in front of him along with a pen, though the German would not look at them, he would not lift his head with Soviet here.

The Russian stayed in the kitchen for a while, humming softly as he was cooking something. That was until he went off to get something, though Reich wasn't sure what.