Chapter Text
You couldn’t even grasp what bothers him whenever he's around you. At first glance, he seems like a very straightforward person, cunning, and very charismatic (but you’d rather think differently) . Nonetheless you try to reciprocate with his demands, he thinks highly of himself, you can’t pinpoint on why but you could guess one got his personality from influence.
“ how are you.” he asks, you don’t respond. Not yet.
“I am fine. ” You say.
“It doesn’t seem fair to me that you got my piece of land. Those are my resources I should’ve gotten. What's a women like you even doing with them anyways.”
“ ?? what do you mean”.
“nothing. It just seems to me that you are incapable of achieving such with this strip of land".
You fix your shawl as you slowly start to show slight uncomfort. He notices that, but he still doesn't apologize. He seems to slowly get angry. And his kind demeanor faded off.
“Libya, how many times do I need to tell you?”.
" Then I suppose you could tell me again because I won't listen to you, you are weak!" he shouts.
"So if I am a woman, I am supposed to be weak?", you ask, shunned at his words. "Not what I was trying to imply". He denied it.
he heads heads off to leave but he speaks once again, this time in a tone that is of threatening.
“I won’t bother you. I respect your opinion”. He fixes his shades which glare in the hard lighting. He had an expression you couldn't make out, as he is very hard to read. You felt there was something deeper to his expression.
You knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone about it. You sweat slightly, grab your shawl and leave, extremely uncomfortable.
Sudan drank tea at your side, you knew that Sudan is reliable with almost everyone in the continent. So you ask him, unaware of his deteriorating state because of his politics.
“do you think Libya could try to do anything to me? ” you ask with all honesty.
“I don’t think, why?” he says with uncertainty.
“ Not much, just a simple question.” You ask, starting to feel at unease.
He furrowed his brow at that, and puts down his tea. “If you need help you can call me. Please don't ever worry about him" . He said in an optimistic tone, though he also seemed uneasy about Libya, as Libya had also tried to somewhat provoke Sudan politically.
It is almost like you never considered it would happen. You could just hope. Then and there, that even France could save you, you knew he would only be doing it for himself. But it somewhat felt true compared to the others. It didn’t feel artificial.
The blood kept on going down and down. Until he grabbed something to wipe it off.
His shades are broken. A shard of glass got into his eye. He seemed quiet. For once. Not for long.
You bleed, almost a waterfall of blood could come out of your head alone.
There are slight fragments of his voice, you could hear of him trying to provoke you. You tried to concentrate, but you felt like you were everywhere, with various voices, and his being the loudest.
He has a small knife. But it sure could do damage if used right.
He wouldn’t stop, he only kept on going more when he saw how exhausted you were. Deeper, deeper and deeper as he went. It cuts through the fat., then the muscle, then to the bone. He almost spears it through you. It feels wonderful, and comforting. That he is stabbing you (?), you hadn’t felt that feeling in years. He seemed to be more careful with it, unlike France who did it violently. Except he took his time, you thought. Disgust emerged in you at that. You forcefully retrieved the knife from your abdomen, and you let out a painful cry.
He stares at you. He doesn’t help you. That is where he exactly wanted you to be at. He then approaches you. He seems himself to be quite ‘dead’ in his eyes without the shades to cover them up.
You faintly remember you pleading with him to not do it . He seemed sincere. You did ask for his help earlier, but it didn’t matter to him. Now to you, he seemed no better or worse than France.
Blood was everywhere on your face. He held the rifle quite swiftly whilst aiming at you. You took notice of his posture. He wasn't comfortable at all. You wept but he stared at you weirdly. As he finds it, oddly discomforting and it bothers him. He very much holds dislike for you. But he masked it in such a way. You could never suspect it.
He hums slightly, not caring at your state. In fact , he takes pleasure. He always wanted to be noticed. It made him feel loved. In every way possible he tried to prove to everyone that he is great. You wonder how. As for anyone else he seemed insane. it seemed to get quieter, he left for a few, you realized how peaceful it was, without him.
You somewhat took time to relish in the quietness. Silence. He still is very injured as you notice the wounds and such on him. He stares at you, you notice that and avert your gaze elsewhere. He doesn't seem to mind that. Instead he grabs his knife once again. This time you try to get up. Knowing what would happen if you didn't. It wouldn't be pretty at all. He throws you down. Bothered.
"stay." he says, breathing lightly. You both look at each other for what seems too long to be called a few minutes. He seems to change moods rapidly. And you can't make out what he feels.
his voice fades away, as you realize what he did.
As you sprawled across the ground, which feels of hard rocks and sand, it rubbed against your back, giving you slight thin mark. You can't feel it. The heat consumes you as a whole. And then there is when started to realize that he stabbed you. Not in the abdomen, but in your back. He stares at you as you struggle. His facial expression seemed to turn into a neutral to a disgusted one . Its as if he wanted you to die as soon as possible. Its as if that piece of land wasn't enough. He needed more.
France tries to help you. He had already putted a hand in 'helping' you. He started to help you more frequently. And even took time out of his day to aid you. You feel better now. But it wouldn't last.