~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:15◀

There is a warning. If u don't like it don't read it.

The chapter~

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Warning⚠.

3rd person pov:

The cell was an eerie tableau of despair. Dim, flickering light from the hallway barely penetrated the heavy darkness that clung to every corner. TR’s footsteps, usually measured and unhurried, now echoed with a sense of urgent dread. He had approached with his routine in mind, but what lay before him was a sight that shattered his usual impassivity.

Russia lay sprawled on the floor, his body contorted in a way that spoke of unbearable agony. The cold, metallic glint of the jagged piece of metal nearby was a grim testament to his desperate bid to escape his torment. Blood smeared the floor, a stark reminder of the depth of his suffering. TR’s eyes widened in horror, his usually unflappable demeanor giving way to raw, unfiltered panic.

He rushed to Russia’s side, his hands shaking as he fumbled to check for a pulse. The sight of Russia, unconscious and bleeding, was a brutal jolt to TR’s detached facade. His usually controlled movements became frantic, a clear indication of his inner turmoil. The terror of nearly losing Russia—a consequence of his own actions—was a profound shock.

With trembling hands, TR carefully moved Russia onto the bed. The urgency in his actions was palpable, a desperate bid to stabilize Russia’s condition and prevent any further tragedy. His mind raced, torn between the fear of the unknown and the crushing realization of what his cruelty had wrought.

As Russia began to regain consciousness, he was greeted by a searing pain that coursed through his body. The trauma of his attempt, coupled with the physical agony, was overwhelming. His eyes fluttered open to see TR’s face—a face that, despite its usual mask of indifference, now bore an expression of uncharacteristic concern. This sight was both confusing and enraging for Russia.

When Russia’s gaze met TR’s, the floodgates of his emotions opened. The anger and betrayal he felt were palpable, a sharp contrast to his weakened state. With a guttural, hoarse cry, he tried to push himself up, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered rage.

“Why?” Russia’s voice was almost a shout, cracking with the strain. “Why did you do this to me? You pushed me to the brink, and now you act like you care? You drove me to this—how can you pretend it’s not your fault?”

TR’s face, usually a mask of cold efficiency, was now a tumultuous storm of guilt and frustration. The intensity of Russia’s pain and the gravity of the situation were evident in his wide, fearful eyes. The usually unflappable TR was visibly shaken, his composed exterior cracking under the weight of his own actions.

“You have no right to question me!” TR’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration. “You don’t understand what you’ve done to me. This wasn’t meant to be—”

“Not meant to be?” Russia interrupted, his voice hoarse and bitter. “You’ve subjected me to endless suffering. You’ve made my life a nightmare. And now, when I’m at my lowest, you show a fleeting concern? This is beyond cruel. It’s malicious.”

TR’s anger flared, his face flushed with a mixture of frustration and helplessness. “You don’t get to dictate how I handle this! You pushed me to the edge, too. You think this is easy for me?”

“Easy?” Russia spat out, his voice breaking with pain. “You think your so-called ‘pressures’ justify this endless torment? You’ve made me believe there was no escape, no relief. And now, you threaten me for trying to end my own suffering? You’ve betrayed me in every possible way.”

TR’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. “You’re not in a position to lecture me! If you attempt this again, you will face severe consequences. I will not tolerate any more of this—”

“Consequences?” Russia’s voice was barely a whisper now, choked with despair. “You’ve already made it clear that I have no hope. Your threats are just another layer of my torment. I’m already broken. Nothing you do can change that.”

TR’s eyes were filled with a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, and a hint of remorse. His anger was evident, but it was clear that the situation had impacted him deeply. He stood over Russia, his posture rigid as he struggled to maintain control.

“Listen to me,” TR said, his voice a strained attempt at authority. “You will follow the rules. I won’t have you undermining my control with these—these desperate acts. You need to understand that there are limits.”

Russia’s response was a soft, defeated sob. The energy it took to argue had drained him, leaving him slumped on the cot, his body trembling with the weight of his despair. The harsh reality of TR’s response was a bitter reminder of his hopeless situation. The threat of punishment for any future attempts at relief was a crushing blow to his already fragile sense of hope.

As TR continued to hover over Russia, his face a mix of stern authority and conflicted emotions, the air in the cell was thick with unresolved tension. The once clear boundary between tormentor and subject seemed blurred by the unexpected display of concern and the harsh reality of their relationship.

Russia’s sobs echoed in the heavy silence of the cell. His tears were a mix of physical pain and deep emotional sadness, reflecting the profound impact of TR’s cruelty.

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It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay i promise-