Addicted (America x Germany) DISCONTINUED

Ch.1 Gone but not forgotten

Chapter one!

ALSO! I will not be putting warnings at the top of these chapters as I do with my one-shot book, please read the book description and realize that if you are reading this, do so on your own accord, this book deals with a lot of sensitive topics that I'm not going to warn you about at the start of every chapter. (I'll warn you if it's particularly disturbing.)

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America's POV

 I stepped up to the door of my house, getting out my keys. Jostling them in the dark, waiting for the porch light to come on. It was past midnight, I had just gotten home from work. It was also pouring rain, the streets were flooded and people walked past on the sidewalk with their umbrellas held high.

 Finally getting the right key, I pushed it into the door handle and turned the lock, going inside. Russia was sitting on the couch, watching television. He had a vodka bottle and an angry expression when he saw me come through the door. He spoke harshly as I shook the rainwater off of my umbrella.

 "America. You're home late. Why?" His tone sent shivers down my spine. I should be used to this by now, but I wasn't.

 "I got caught up at work. I'm sorry ok? I was busy." I said this without looking at him, only continuing to put my things away and loosen my suit coat.

 I heard him get up from the couch. I ignored him, and I could tell he didn't like that.

 "Look at me when I'm talking to you. You should've called me or texted me at least. I had plans. I wanted you home!" He went from barley whispering to full-blown yelling, making me flinch with every word.

 "I'm sorry ok?! Please let's not fight! I've had a long day, and I'm tired." I turned to face him, anger flaring up inside me. I didn't want to deal with this. Not now.

 I gasped as he shoved me against the wall, and out of instinct, I threw my arms up defensively. He started yelling, and I covered my face with my hands.

 "I wanted you home! I had plans to take you out to dinner! I was going to be nice! But you forced me to stay here, alone, and wait for you because I didn't know where you were!" I started sliding down, curling up and trying to block out the noise. He threw the bottle at me, smashing it against the wall, shards of glass flying everywhere, cutting my face and hands. He growled and opened the door, grabbing me by the shirt collar and shoving me out of the house and into the rain. I stumbled backward and fell on the pavement. Water, dirt, and rain seeping into my suit. A car drove past and splashed me, drenching me completely. I looked up and saw that the door to the house was already shut, Russia most likely didn't want me coming back in either.

 Slowly getting up, I felt aches already forming. I was so cold. The rain kept coming down on me as I stood, the dark sidewalk welcoming me to walk on it. I started down the street, my head down to avoid stares and murmurs. People walked past me, safe from the rain because of their umbrellas. Mine was still in the house, on the floor most likely.

 I took off my sunglasses, I could no longer see clearly with it raining this bad and being this dark out. I went around the corner out of sight from my shared home with Russia, and turned down an alley with a small overhang, protecting me from the rain. I got up one of the fire escape ladders and sat there on the cold wet metal. The city around me was slowly quieting down, the sound of the rain overwhelming the sounds of the dying traffic. Water ran down the sides of the brick buildings, pooling at the bottom and making slight panging sounds when the drops hit metal.

 I reached into my pocket, pulling out a sopping wet pack of cigarettes. Opening it up, I saw that the cigarettes were too damp to light. Annoyed, I threw the pack against the wall. It landed in a puddle. I needed a cigarette, but since I didn't have that option I rummaged around in my other pockets and found what I was looking for. My hand rubbed against the cold metal of the bullets. Taking one out of my pocket, I felt my expression change to a look of despair rather than grimacing in pain. I examined the bronze shine of it and rolled it around in my hand, spacing out, thinking back to when Russia's father was still alive.