unFRIENDLY RIVALRY: countryhumans

Escaping the past

Blood. 

The thick red liquid was gushing from his deep wounds, staining his snow-white body.  The agony he was put through was unbearable.

He looked down at the enormous injury that run down his body length; he was slashed open, the cut was surely deep enough to reach his insides. With the last bit of his strength left in him he had managed to bandage up his massacred stomach, hoping that he wouldn't bleed out to death. He couldn't die yet, not here, not now! He had survived so much already, he just got his independence back after being wiped off the map for 123 years, this is not how he was going to die, not by the hands of men which relatives killed his father... no...but deep down inside he knew he was indeed dying, no matter how much he tried pushing the thought away.

Everyone had turned away from him. 

The peace treaties, promises and his trust  were broken . No one cares about him anymore. UK and France had turned their backs on him, wanting to avoid the conflict, but he shouldn't be that surprised by this, he saw what happened to the Czechoslovakia himself to know better than trust in their alliance.

The shattered country raised his blood-covered chin a little, his exhausted eyes tracing along the outlines of equally as broken, grey, smoke-blackened buildings. Bricks and other broken pieces of the crumbling nothingness were chaotically scattered around him, there was nothing left... just vast empty greyness and destruction. His once beautiful home capital was ruined.

The sight only made his spirits drop, ("I'm not dead. Not yet.") he thought to himself, slightly chocking at his own blood, struggling to breathe, his back resting against the rocky brick and dirt trenches that seemed to occur almost naturally and grow in numbers as the more buildings collapsed after the repeated abuse. The smoke and grey particles were still hanging in the air after the heavy bombings, clouding his already blurry vision. 

He heard a somewhat distant, menacing echoing of a madman's wicked laughter, which made his anger reach a new peak, feeling his jaw tighten. How could anyone be this vile? 

BANG.

A sudden sound made the white and red country's eyes snap right open. He was sitting behind his desk, arms folded neatly on the paper documents he while supporting the weight of his heavy head. He could feel that his glasses had tilted and moved down his face slightly.

He raised his cheek from his arm seeking out the object that had ended his slumber, to see that one of the folders laying on the floor. It must've slid down from the huge pile of documents, falling to the ground due to the imbalance. 

A dream, or a nightmare rather... it was just one of the many memories of those dark times in his life. 

Immediately noticing his heavy uneven breathing and cold sweat that run down his forehead, he began to take deep breaths and exhale slowly as he wiped the drops off his face with a sleeve of his black formal shirt. 

The country's eyes widened  as he looked up at the white clock hanging on the wall.

("10:30?! How the-? I must've fallen asleep when doing these documents... damn it, the building entrance must be locked by now, it's too late

 at night for anyone to still be out here.")

The two coloured country swore at his own stupidity, he shouldn't have been overworking himself, but it's not like it was all his fault entirely; yes he did have some workaholic tendencies but that was only magnified by Germany's constant nagging him to do more. This must've been one of the new, more inventive ways for Germany to make his life just a tad bit more miserable than it already was.