~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:39◀

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Warning⚠

Russia's pov:

Pain was my only reality. The basement’s dim light did nothing to soften the brutality of Soviet’s blows. Each hit was a fresh wave of agony, my body screaming in protest with every impact.

“Please, Father,” I whimpered, my voice cracking under the strain. “Just end it... Please...”

Soviet’s rage was deafening, his eyes burning with a cruel fire. He wasn’t hearing my pleas; he was consumed by his need to punish me.

“You’re a disgrace,” he spat, his voice a venomous hiss. “You deserve every bit of this.”

His fist collided with my ribs, and I felt a sharp, sickening crack. The pain was blinding, stealing my breath and making stars dance before my eyes. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood from my split lip and swollen cheek.

I tried to curl up, to protect myself from the relentless assault, but it was futile. Soviet grabbed me by the hair, yanking me to my feet with brutal force. His eyes were wild, filled with a darkness that chilled me to the bone.

He slammed my head against the wall, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my skull. Blood trickled down my face, warm and sticky. My pleas turned to incoherent sobs as he continued to slam my head against the unyielding concrete, each blow pushing me closer to the edge of consciousness.

Soviet threw me to the ground like a ragdoll. I lay there, gasping and shivering, the cold floor a sharp contrast to the burning pain coursing through me. I thought maybe he had finished, but his rage was insatiable.

He reached down and gripped my throat, lifting me off the ground. I choked, my hands clawing weakly at his iron grip. He sneered at my feeble attempts to free myself.

“You think you can beg for mercy and then i'll stop?” he snarled. “You’re nothing but a failure.”

With a growl, he threw me across the room. I crashed into the opposite wall and crumpled to the floor. My body was a mass of pain, every nerve screaming. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream—only the agony remained.

Soviet’s footsteps echoed as he approached. He kicked me in the stomach, and another rib cracked. I coughed, blood splattering the floor, the metallic taste filling my mouth.

“Please...” I whispered, my voice a ghostly whisper. “No more...”

But he wasn’t done. He grabbed my arm and twisted it, the bone snapping with a sickening crack. My scream was raw, desperate, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

He picked up a metal rod from the corner. My eyes widened in terror. I tried to crawl away, but my body wouldn’t respond. He brought the rod down on my back with brutal force.

“You think you can escape your fate?” he hissed, striking me again. “You’re a disgrace, an embarrassment.”

Each word was a fresh blow. My skin split open, blood soaking through my clothes. My screams echoed, but there was no one to hear them.

Soviet grabbed my head and slammed it into the floor. My vision swam, darkness creeping in. He lifted me by the collar and punched me in the face, over and over, until I tasted blood and my world spun.

“You deserve this,” he growled. “You deserve every second of this pain.”

I lay there, broken, trembling. My breaths came in shallow gasps. I wanted it to end, wanted the pain to stop, but I knew it wouldn’t. Not until Soviet decided.