Comparing Violence

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tw: abuse denial, abuse

"Hey, Soome!" Estonia called out from the kitchen, with an innocent timbre to his voice. A complete stranger hearing him would not even have the slight thought that this man was severely abused and tortured as a child. Regrettably, that is the case. Today, Estonia is a homosexual, and has a loving and caring husband who supports him. But not in ways you might think.

"Is everything alright, Viro?" Finland, his husband, responded, whilst slouched on the cozy, sanguine settee in the living room of their apartment. In response, Estonia softly strolled out of the kitchen, turned to face Finland, smiled, and softly demanded, "order me a pizza."

Finland's face slightly sunk. Pizzas were expensive and a drain on money, and, to admit, they were kinda poor, especially because Finland's boss was forced to pay him lower wages due to some economic crisis that hit the company. Estonia knew this, yet he wanted one almost every night of the week. At first Finland thought that excessive eating was a way to prevent PTSD attacks from occurring, due to the fact Estonia was having them often. However, he no longer theorized this to be the case, especially the fact that since they started having pizza every night, Estonia started to have more distressing and, most importantly, more vivid flashbacks.

"I would love too, but..." Finland said, slowly and bummed out, "it's too expensive, we won't be able to pay rent. We'll have one at the weekend, okay?" He smiled, faintly, in an attempt to reassure his husband. Instead, Estonia looked annoyed, worrying Finland. "I'm very sorry, I really am. I like pizzas too, you know?" Finland explained, standing up from the settee, but it was too late.

In less than the blink of an eye, Estonia angrily dashed towards Finland, and cruelly grabbed his jumper. He then violently slammed the poor man into a wall. 

"Now you listen to me," he said, through gritted teeth, to a frightened Finland, "I don't care how much money we have, you will order me a fucking pizza, or I will go to the police and tell them you are hitting and fucking beating me up. Do you understand me?"

Finland nodded, shaking.

"Do you fucking understand me, bitch?!" Estonia yelled, enraged.

"Y-yes!" Finland loudly replied, frightened and almost on the brink of tears. Estonia released his grip aggressively, pushing Finland. He then walked into the kitchen and took a few deep breaths. Then, he walked out to the living room, and calmly asked for a pepperoni pizza, whilst stroking his husband's long hair.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Sometimes Estonia would even hit Finland. You might (rightfully) think that Finland should leave him, which he thought himself. However, he came up with, whilst unhealthy and dangerous, an admittedly clever argument to why he shouldn't: the abuse he was facing wasn't as severe as what Estonia faced during his childhood. 

Finland didn't know whether this was abuse. Estonia was much shorter than him. Sure, he was threatened and slapped, but it was a light gesture compared to Estonia's childhood.




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