Chapter Twenty-Six: A Long-Awaited Appointment

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Edit: translation fix

Heck yeah bois it's finally happening

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Heck yeah bois it's finally happening.

Chapter warnings: talk of mental illnesses, mention of cutting, talk of death, the gay f slur, homophobia, talk of past abuse, and past death.

If you can't read this, I'll put a summary of the chapter at the end.

Today was the day.

It had taken a lot of thought and consideration, but Russia had decided on seeing a psychiatrist. The benefits outweighed the potential drawbacks, so Russia contacted Dr. Lin and set up an appointment with her. Today, he was going to be having his first appointment at 11:30.

Russia wouldn't admit it out loud, but meeting up with Dr. Lin terrified him. It wasn't because he was scared that Dr. Lin would tell everyone about Russia's condition; he knew that Dr. Lin was legally obligated to keep anything he said a secret, but Russia wasn't fond of the idea of spilling his secrets to someone he didn't know.

He still hasn't even told his family.

It's for the best, the negative voice told him. They'll laugh at you. They'll scold you for being so weak and useless.

Нет не будут (No, they won't), Russia argued.

You fainted in the middle of a meeting. If that doesn't prove you're weak, then I'll list off plenty more reasons. You knew something was going to happen; you could feel it. And yet, you didn't think to tell anyone. Not even your government.

Russia scowled. Ты сказал мне никому не говорить. Вы получили то, что хотели. (You told me not to tell anyone. You got what you wanted.)

This whole thing is your fault. You should've told your government. Oh, wait! That's right. You can't. They won't listen to you.

Молчи. (Shut up.)

You can't even control your own government! What's the point of you being here, anyways? You should just give up already–

Молчи.

You're going to listen to me, Russia! You always do! You can never win against me! I'm always going to beat you, no matter what you do! Why do you bother fighting, hm? Just give up–!

Я сказал, молчи! (I said, shut up!)

Russia threw the knife he used to cut himself with, which he didn't know he'd taken out of its hiding spot, and it impaled itself hilt-deep in the wall. Artyom jumped away, startled by the sudden action. In his attempt to flee, he knocked over a few things that sat on Russia's bedside table.

Sighing, Russia walked over to it and picked up from the ground. It was a Christmas photo from a few years ago, and he had taken a picture of his family gathered around the fireplace, smiling and laughing as they enjoyed each other's company and indulged in the festivities. He brushed a thumb over Nazi and Soviet's smiling faces. He remembered that they had both been suffering from several nights of nightmares, fracture pains, and flashbacks. That Christmas was the first time in days that they were finally free from the physical and emotional pain.

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