🌻 rusger oneshots | countryhumans 🌻

11 | bad memories

🇩🇪: male
🇷🇺: male
angst :(
⚠️domestic violence, child abuse, ussr, mentions of nazi germany⚠️
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      "что ты хочешь (what do you want)," a tall man growled, facing the window of his office, refusing to look at the little boy trying to talk to him.

      "украина случайно вырвала одно из казахстанских перьев (ukraine accidently plucked out one of kazakhstan's feathers)," the boy said, explaining the situation to his father. the man took a long gulp from his bottle of vodka.

       "что вы имеете в виду 'случайно' (what do you mean 'accidently')?" he snarled, stretching out the words slowly.

       "м-мы играли (w-we were playing)—" the boy stammered, fearing his father's reaction.

       "shut up."

       "что?" his voice stammered in fear.

       "i said that in english. i expect a reply in english, pоссия," the tall man slowly turned to face his terrified son. it was clear that he was not in a good mood, the smell of alcohol from him was strong and unwelcoming. the little russian federation knew this wasn't a good sign. "where is he?"

       this is when the small russian panicked. he knew that if he told him where his little brother was then he would recieve a harsh punishment. he didn't deserve that, it was an accident. russia couldn't let that happen, as the oldest his natural instinct was to protect them.

       "in the kitchen," he said quietly, his breathing subconsciously getting quicker.

       his father narrowed his cold eyes at him, now filled with anger. "that's a lie, russia. are you lying to your father?" his voice was low and dangerous. he set down his bottle of vodka, his furious gaze not leaving his son's visibly terrified face. "pоссия," his voice suddenly softened slightly, showing a hint of pity as he sighed, shaking his head. "ты знаешь лучше, чем врать мне (you know better than to lie to me),"

       "папа," russia whimpered, afraid of what will happen next.

       and suddenly he fell back onto the floor, his forehead stinging in pain. tears started trickling down his face. "сладкая, сладкая россия (sweet, sweet russia)," the soviet union kicked him hard, him still laying on the floor and silently crying. "всегда терпеливо избивал своих братьев (always taking the beating for his brothers)," the tall country grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt, shoving his smaller figure up into the air and shoving him back down.

       russia hit the floor with a loud thump. his back hurt like hell, his arm was sore and his face was bruised, and the ussr wasn't even halfway through the punishment.

       "ты разочарование. такой позор, что мой старший ребенок оказался таким же, как ты (you're a disappointment. such a shame that my eldest son turned out like you)." russia backed into the wall, eyes red and puffy, salty tears streaming down his face. "у тебя был потенциал. но посмотри на себя сейчас (you had potential. but look at you now),"

        "папа пожалуйста (dad please)," he chocked out quietly.

        "пожалуйста, что (please what)," the older snarled, leaning down, only to kick him once again. "ты просил об этом (you asked for this)," his fist moved to his son's throat, cutting off his air momentarily. the boy let out a sob, making a poor attempt to escape his father's grasp. the man's eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head once again with another sigh. ussr released his grip from russia's neck, leaving purple bruises and finger marks.