Chapter 4

727 38 46
                                    

Poland's P.O.V.

I watched West Germany disappear behind the doors, and sighed, turning to sit against the wall.

A few minutes later, I heard the door open and shut.

"Are you ready to go-" I asked, turning around the corner but being stopped in my tracks by a group of countries.

My heart thumped a million kilometers an hour, and I felt all the blood drain from my face. It was none other than Russia and his group. I noticed a few were missing from the last time.

"So, little Pole, you thought you could just get away with punching me?" The taller country smirked, but there was a wild look in his eyes.

A look of revenge.

(okay just a quick violence warning, I'll tell ya when it's over)

I shivered, glancing around. We were on the side of the building, so it was unlikely that anyone would see or hear us. My gaze went back to Russia, only to see a fist coming right toward me.

It made contact with my cheek, sending a jolt of pain through me and bowling me over. I grabbed the side of my face.

The other laughed. "Not so big and tough now, are we? Where's your little friend, huh?"

I tried to push myself up, only to feel a sharp kick in the gut. It knocked me over again, this time on to the hard gravel. Rocks scraped against my face and dirt clouded my vision. All I could feel was the agony. Pain, everywhere. It was like tar, sucking me down where I couldn't escape it.

I felt blood trickle out of my mouth, making small droplets on the dirt. I stared at it, momentarily distracted.

Another kick hit me in the spine, and my body folded over like a piece of paper. I curled into a fetal position, covering my head with my hands as I started to feel more kicks all over me.

"You're so weak!" Russia said. "You disgust me. Your friends must be ashamed to call you one, you little rat."

I wanted to scream for help, but there was no voice inside me. I wanted to cry. No tears came.

I lost count of how much time passed. Eventually, the violence stopped.

Russia spat at me. "I'd rather kill myself than be your parents." Their footsteps faded away, but I didn't see them. My vision was closing in slightly. The pain was numbing. I welcomed the fading of consciousness; the relief of pain. A small cough rattled my lungs, but I was too weak to let out another. A liquid rose from my throat, seeping into my mouth.

Blood tastes strange.

(okay ya'll it be over now :>)

________________________________

West Germany's P.O.V.

My teacher smiled at me as I stepped inside, panting from the exertion of running.

"Hello West Germany, what can I do for you?"

I stopped to rest, putting my hands on my knees. "My...Book..."

She glanced around, seeing my desk. "Oh! It seems you've forgotten it. Here," She stood up, walking over and picking it up. She bent down, handing it to me. I took it gratefully.

"Thank you so much," I said, smiling slightly. She watched me walk out of the door. "You're very welcome. Have a lovely day!"

It wasn't long before I reached the entrance to the school. I pushed open the doors, striding to the corner where I had left my friend. I heard the doors shut behind me.

We Don't Care (Gerpol)Where stories live. Discover now