RusCan: Russia's Depression.

Chapter 1

Russia walked home in the below freezing weather, but he was finally away the others and the World Conference room, where nothing was done, as usual. America brought up something else to combat global warming, again. Nothing useful. England and France did their usual bickering, and he was avoided. The countries had started avoiding him, more and more. He was getting less conversations from his "friends" as they rushed passed him without acknowledging him.

It hurt him. Every time it happened, his heart hurt a little more. No one would speak to him for days. He'd walk around alone, face buried in his light pink scarf, as snow was being hurtled at his face. He'd stand alone in meadows of sunflowers in the summer, but even those didn't really make him happy anymore.

Shutting the door, the house fell into an erie darkness. He stood there for a moment before moving. Russia's footsteps echoed through his empty house as he walked on the creaky wooded boards in the hallways to his room. Flicking on a light, he glanced at all the empty bottles of vodka scattered around his room and he sighed at the mess. "I'm a giant mess." He muttered to himself.

Sighing, he took off his coat and scarf. Hanging those up, he went to the bathroom, where he examined his neck. Looking at the lines and scabs around the base of his neck, he ran his hand across them. He had let those ones heal. Sighing once, again, he walked to his kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of vodka to take back to his room for later.

Taking his boots off, he settled on the couch. He flipped through the channels on the small tv on the his coffee table. Taking a sip of vodka, he wrapped himself in a blanket. Soon he drifted of to sleep.

Dream/Nightmare~

He was running. "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" A voice shouted. Running faster, he ran to a wood cabin, deep in the woods. He ran behind it and paused, gasping for breath. His lungs were burning. With his hands on his knees, he tried to make his quieter so he could listen. He listened closely to the sounds of the woods, listening for his bully. Hearing nothing, he looked around the corner. Nothing. Turning back, he let out a sharp gasp as his was pushed up against the wall by his neck.

Tears began flowing out of his violet-colored eyes onto the snow-covered ground below. "L-LEAVE ME ALONE!" He shouted at the other. The other smiled and punched Russia in the face, causing a nosebleed. Crying more, he kicked as hard as he could into the gut of the bully.

"Oof," he said as he let go of Russia.
Russia made another escape. Running as fast as his legs could carry him. No matter how far, or fast he went, the other would always find him in a vicious cycle. The encounters got more malicious with each one. They were leaving him more and more bloodied and bruised.

Crying, scraps and bruises covered him. Weak from the last attacks, he lay in the blood stained snow, blood slowly trickling out the corner of his mouth. Pain surged throughout his entire body. The bully continued to deliver punches and kicks over and over, leaving Russia crying and begging weakly. "HAHAHA THIS IS GREAT, YOU'RE SUCH A WEAK BABY!" The bully yelled as he kick Russia as hard as he could.

End*

Russia jumped awake. Tears flowing.

Wiping his tears with his sweater sleeve, he got a bottle of vodka from the fridge. Feeling the fuzzy feelings from the alcohol rise from his stomach after his third bottle, he slowly made his way to his bedroom. Stumbling, he tripped on a bottle, falling and hitting his head hard on the bed side, knocking himself out.

The light from Russia's lamp hurt his eyes as he opened eyes slightly. He had a head splitting headache. Putting his hand where he felt the most pain, Russia made his way slowly to the bathroom. "Ugh," he said quietly to himself. Dried blood was around the wound and in his hair, making it form in clumps. "What ever, I'm just gonna take a shower."

Russia turned on the water, waiting for it to steam in the bathroom. Stepping in, he recoiled, hissing slightly as the steaming water hit his back. Soon he got used to it, and the only stinging feelings were from his arms. He looked at them. Giant cuts, scabs, and scars covered his arms.

He looked around his shampoo bottles for his razor. Soon, blood was running down the drain. The fresh cuts stung as water ran over them. They went farther up his arm, passed his elbow. He hid his razor once again and grunted. "It's not like anyone is coming to see me anytime soon anyway," he said as he got out of the shower.

Steam exited the room as Russia slowly opened the door, shivering as cooler air hit him. With new bandages he wrapped his arms. He also covered the wound on his head. Blood already slightly soaked the bandages and Russia was feeling a bit dizzy from blood loss, but he didn't care. As long as he felt alive.

Putting on his normal clothes, he walked out his house through deep snow. White blinded him, making it hard for him to see. Snow was hurtled at his face. It felt like little pins jabbing into his face.

Soon enough, he reached town. Going to a café for some coffee. He sat alone reading his newspaper. Taking sips of his coffee, he felt strange, like someone was watching him. He didn't understand, he just pushed it out of his mind. He wasn't interested in it, what ever it was. He took a final bite of his muffin. Trash thrown away, he quickly walked outside, but felt a tug on his sleeve causing him to flinch slightly.

"O-oh sorry to startle you Russia," he heard a soft voice. Looking, he saw, America? No, it was Canada. Quickly, he pulled his arm from him and sighed. "Yes Canada?" He said lowly.

Its my first story, I hope you enjoyed. Till the next chapter, I'm out, it's like 1:00am now.