~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:31◀

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Warning⚠.

3rd person pov:

The evening air hung heavy with tension as Soviet retreated to his study, the weight of his past actions pressing down on him. He sat at his desk, the dim light casting shadows across the room. In front of him lay the photos of Russia’s torment, each image a stark reminder of the suffering his son had endured. The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless ache that refused to fade.

Soviet's gaze drifted from the photos to the bottle of vodka on the nearby shelf. He had always tried to avoid drinking, knowing the darkness it brought out in him. But tonight, the pain and guilt were too much to bear. He reached for the bottle, his hands trembling slightly as he poured himself a drink.

The first bottle went down quickly, the alcohol burning his throat but numbing his mind. He reached for a second, then a third, and finally a fourth. The world around him began to blur, and a dizzying wave of anger surged through him. He stood up unsteadily, grabbing one of the empty bottles, and stumbled out of his study.

Downstairs, the siblings were gathered, talking softly and trying to enjoy the evening. Russia was in the kitchen, cleaning. The sound of stumbling and heavy footsteps reached his ears, and a sense of alarm washed over him. He hurried to check on his siblings, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he entered the living room, he saw Soviet in a disheveled state, his shirt half-buttoned and his hair messy. The heavy smell of alcohol filled the air, and Russia's worry deepened. His father was drunk, and his siblings were visibly frightened.

"Soviet?" Russia called out cautiously, his voice trembling with concern.

Soviet's eyes were wild, and he glared at his children. "What are you all doing here?" he slurred, his voice thick with anger.

Russia stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm. "Father, please, let's go back to your study. You need to rest."

But Soviet's rage only intensified. With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled the vodka bottle at them. Russia reacted instinctively, spreading his wings to shield his siblings. The bottle crashed against one of his wings, shattering on impact. The sharp pain was immediate, and he fell to the ground, blood seeping from the wound.

Soviet screamed at the rest of the children, his voice a terrifying roar. "Get to your rooms! Now! Or I'll punish you!"

Terrified, the siblings scrambled to obey, their faces pale with fear. Only Russia remained, lying on the ground with glass and blood pooling around him. Soviet's rage was unrelenting, and he moved towards his son with a menacing glare.

"You think you can defy me?" he snarled, his voice filled with venom. He grabbed Russia by the hair, yanking him up forcefully. Russia cried out in pain, his hands trying weakly to lessen the pressure on his scalp.

"Please, Father," Russia gasped, his voice choked with agony. "Stop..."

But Soviet's fury was uncontrollable. He threw Russia across the room, sending him crashing into the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he slumped to the floor, dazed and in pain. Soviet was on him in an instant, kicking him in the stomach with brutal force.

Each blow was accompanied by a scream of pain from Russia and a string of vicious curses from Soviet. The siblings huddled in their rooms, their faces pale with terror as they listened to the horrifying sounds of the beating. Russia’s pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and the sound of his father’s rage echoed through the house.

When Soviet finally stopped, he was breathing heavily, his rage momentarily spent. He looked down at his son, who lay on the floor, bloodied and broken. Without another word, he turned and stumbled back to his study, leaving Russia lying in a pool of his own blood and tears.