Long Road Chapter 26
Jul. 30th, 2012 07:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lothinielflowermaidenWarnings: This chapter takes a slightly darker turn again, and contains some suicidal thoughts. See previous chapters for other warnings.
Chapter Twenty-six
Nothing more was said about any of what had happened that day. After seeing how any discussion of these subjects upset Norway, the others all knew that they had to be careful about getting him to talk. They all knew that he needed to talk about it eventually, but they also knew that that needed to be on his terms, and when he was ready. If they tried to force him to talk when he wasn't ready, they risked making things worse.
They had been worried that he might try to withdraw from them again, but so far that had not happened. Although he refused to talk about the abuse in front of most of the family, he did seem to want to have them around—on some level their presence seemed to reassure him. In fact, sometimes, he seemed to actually be trying not to be left alone. But at the same time, he still seemed to be holding something back.
Now that the immediate dangers seemed to have passed, the rest of the family did start spending a little less time with Norway. They all had responsibilities of their own that had been neglected for most of the summer, and now they needed to start tending to those again. However, since the main part of their jobs involved doing paperwork, they made sure that one of them always worked at the house every day, just in case. That was how they had discovered that Norway seemed to be trying not to be alone. He would often seek out the one who had stayed at home with him that day and just stay in the room where they were working. He never said anything when he did this, but the others still took it as a positive sign.
More days passed and Norway had not said anything else either about the dream or about the memories he had recovered. The others could see signs that something was bothering him, but they were hesitant to force him to talk if there was no immediate crisis. He needed to talk about it, rather than trying to bury it again, but they did not want to force him and risk making him withdraw—and they wanted to avoid an incident like what had happened that one evening that he had tried to talk to all of them.
And as the month of August passed, the question of what to do about September's world meeting arose. By this time, Norway was probably healthy enough physically to attend the meeting—he was not fully recovered, but he was finally starting to show some small signs of improvement. However, the others were worried that the travel to and from the meeting might be too much for the level of strength he had managed to regain, especially as he was still having some complications from the amount of time he had gone without eating. And, most of all, they were worried about the effect that the meeting itself and dealing with all of the other nations, might have on Norway's already fragile emotional state. They all remembered the panic attack he had had during January's world meeting, and none of them wanted to risk a repetition of that. And, as they had no idea what might have triggered that attack, they could only worry that this upcoming meeting might cause another. Of course Norway had attended a few meetings during the intervening months, and had not seemed to suffer any ill effects that could be attributed to the meetings. And yet, somehow they felt that it might not be a good idea for him to attend this meeting.
The obvious solution would be to ask Norway how he felt about attending the meeting, but still they hesitated to do that until it was absolutely necessary. There was still about a week before they had to give notice as to whether or not they would be attending the meeting.
And, although none of them wanted to admit it, they were all dreading the next crisis that they were afraid would happen. It seemed as though the past several months had been on crisis after another.
There were only a few days left to make a decision by the time the topic of the meeting was finally brought up. It was during the time after dinner that the entire family had gathered in the living room. They had discussed this in advance and had decided that tonight was when they were going to bring up the topic of the meeting.
"The World Meeting is next week. Do you think you're ready to attend it, or do you need to wait another month?"
Norway did not answer immediately. He had known the meeting was approaching, but he had tried not to think about it. Thinking about the meeting meant remembering how he had embarrassed himself at January's meeting, and how everyone had started at him at every meeting since—like they were just waiting for him to show some sign of weakness. Even after having been told that most of the other nations were actually concerned about him, he still suspected that there was an ulterior motive to their concern. He had learned the hard way that there usually was an ulterior motive. And he had never formed any personal ties to any nations outside his immediate family—he dealt with them when his job required it, but he had no desire to deal with them socially. And he didn't think he was ready to face all those stares again, and every worse was the possibility of the questions he was sure they were all just waiting to ask. However, as much as he did not feel ready, he still felt like he had to go. He needed to get back to acting normal, so he would no longer be a burden to his family. "I think I need to go," he answered at last. He hoped he had successfully concealed all the reluctance he felt.
"You don't need to force yourself to go to the meeting if you're not ready, Norja," Finland said. "We just need to know, so we can make arrangements."
Norway realized then that he had failed to conceal his hesitation. "You won't let me stay here alone, will you?" he asked. He suspected that if he didn't go to this meeting, then the rest of the family probably would not attend either.
"I don't think any of us want to take that chance, at least not until you've recovered more. Plus, we'd be gone for at least three days."
"And what's why I have to go to the meeting. I don't want to be responsible for everyone missing the meeting. I know that you didn't go to the meeting this month."
"We missed a couple of meetings this summer, while you were in the hospital."
"So I'm keeping you from fulfilling your obligations," Norway said. "You haven't been able to do your job because of me. How can you still say I'm not a burden to you?"
"Norja, you're family—you're not a burden. No one here thinks that you're a burden."
Norway looked around at the other members of his family. They were all in the living room, but none of them had said anything in the conversation. They had probably been told not to unless asked a question. And the fact that none of them had said anything was doing nothing to change Norway's mind—they were the ones he believed hated him after all. Sometimes he almost was able to believe that maybe they didn't really hate him, but then he would start remembering things, and he would know that they must. He was really starting to wish that they would stop lying to him, and admit that they blamed him and that they really hated him—that they were only waiting to hurt him the way Scandia had. And lately, he had been getting this sense that there was something he had forgotten that would prove that he was right and that they really did hate him.
He looked down at the floor, unable to look at them any longer. He wasn't sure what he felt at that moment—so many thoughts were going around in his mind and each thought seemed to trigger a different emotion. However, he still tried to keep any sign of this from being visible to his family, not wanting to give any more of an advantage than they already had. They knew how weak he was right now, and if they wanted to take advantage of their condition, there would be nothing he could do to stop them. And they must have some ulterior motive—after all, why else would they have done all that they had over the last year. And Norway remembered that Birger had always said that his family must have some ulterior motive, just like Scandia had always said they secretly hated him. And once again, there was that nagging feeling that he was forgetting something that would prove that.
"Why can't you stop pretending to care?" he whispered, almost too quietly for the words to be heard. "I know you don't. They said that you didn't." Of course, his mother had told him that his family cared about him, but she might have been lying. She had been trying to protect him after all—maybe she had also tried to protect him from the knowledge of the truth, and from the pain that knowledge would cause. She could not have known that he already knew the truth.
For a few moments, no one said anything. None of the other members of the family knew what the best thing to say to Norway was, but they knew saying the wrong thing would make things worse—it always did. But how could they make Norway see that they cared about him when nothing they said or did could convince him of that fact.
Of course, Norway took their silence as proof of their true feelings towards him. Before any of them even would have had a chance to say anything, Norway stood up and walked out of the room. He did not want to stay there and listen to anymore lies from them. Tomorrow, he would convince them that he needed to attend the meeting and hopefully then the subject would be dropped.
Later that night, once he was alone in the room his family had fixed up for him, Norway was unable to sleep. There were still too many thoughts going around in his mind, and he could not turn them off in order to sleep. However, his thoughts kept coming back to one fact—his family had not said anything once he had told them to stop pretending. That meant they really didn't care about him. He overlooked the fact that he had only given them a few moments to say something, but in his current mindset the fact that they had not said anything immediately was enough to prove to him that they had been lying.
Without realizing that he was doing so, Norway started tracing the fingers of his right hand over the scar on his left wrist. The scar was slowly fading, but it would be visible for at least another year if not longer. Eventually though it would disappear, as it had not been caused by a national incident. Right now, though, it was still clearly visible, and anyone who saw it would think that Norway had tried to kill himself. And he knew that some of the other nations must have seen it—he had attended three world meetings with it uncovered after all, and another one where it had still been covered by the splint that he had worn while the damaged tendon had healed.
Not for the first time since the injury had occurred, Norway wondered what would have happened if his family had not made him wake up. It might have been better for them in the long run—they would not have had to spend so many months taking care of him. They would not be forced to pretend they cared about him when he already knew that they didn't. And most importantly, he would no longer be a burden to them—that was the same thing that had almost made him go through the door, the fact that he was nothing but a burden to everyone.
He kept trying to get these thoughts to leave him alone, but they continued to come back and eventually he gave up on trying to chase them away. He remembered and more and more incidents and words that made it clear to him that his family didn't really care about him—regardless of whether or not they claimed to. And as these memories went through his mind he once again began to feel like he remembered something else—something about why his family had been forced to leave back in January. Something had happened that last night before they left, but the full memory continued to elude him. There was just this nagging feeling that he had forgotten something important.
Eventually, he could no longer hold back the exhaustion that plagued his still recovering body, and he drifted into a restless sleep.
In the morning, it seemed that everyone was determined to not speak about the previous night's events. The only reference to any of the discussion from the previous night dealt with the upcoming world meeting and the necessity of getting the doctor's opinion as to whether or not Norway was well enough to attend—there was no longer any question of whether he would be attending, as long as he was well enough. That day happened to be one of the days that he had a doctor's appointment, and the doctor said that he could attend the meeting as long as he would careful not to overdo it. He was still recovering after all, and he most likely would not survive another relapse.
At various times that day, Norway caught himself rubbing the scar on his wrist. He always stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing, and he hoped his family had not noticed his new habit. And, he continued to feel like there was something important that he had forgotten about the events in January—something that would prove that his family really was only pretending to care about him and that they had ulterior motives for doing so.
After a couple of more days, it was time to travel to the world meeting, which was thankfully not being held too far away. It was early afternoon when they arrived and checked into their hotel—the same hotel that all of the other nations were also staying at.
Norway had almost immediately gone to his room. He was more tired than he had wanted to let his family see. His strength had been very slow to return this time, and he despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to, he had insisted on walking up to his room without help. The doctors were concerned enough about the condition he had been in, that they had given orders that he wasn't supposed to do much walking until more of his strength had returned. He was pretty much limited to inside the house—outside the house he was not supposed to be walking around unaided. However, he had insisted on leaving all of that back at the house, not wanting to look weak in front of any of the other nations. He had done enough of that already—and he was sure there were people out there would take advantage of any sign of weakness that he might show.
Of course, it was the people that he should have been able to trust who had always been the ones to hurt him—his father, his older brothers, his cousins, and even someone from his government. Those were all people he should have been able to trust and they had all hurt him, in different ways, but sometimes in ways that were all too similar. Something about that thought once again reminded him of the feeling he had about having forgotten something important that had happened in January.
Not bothering to put the security lock on the door, Norway went and lay down on the bed. He knew that he only had a few hours until someone from his family would come by to make sure he went to dinner with them. They had insisted on being given an extra key to his room—just in case something happened. They were already using his weakness as an excuse to take away any privacy he might have otherwise been given.
Norway tried to relax and gather enough strength to allow him to face the walk through the lobby past all the nations that would probably be staring at him—just like they had at the last several meetings he had attended. Once again, he found himself rubbing the scar on his wrist and wondering if maybe it would have better if he had died in January—if his family had waited only a few minutes longer to get into his room it might have been too late. And given everything that had happened over the past several months, he sometimes felt that might have been better. He was getting tired of living this way, constantly waiting for things to keep getting worse. And by now he knew that they always would.
There were times when wondered why he had even tried to find a way back. If he had gone through that door, he would have been trapped with his father for all eternity, but he also would have been with someone that he knew cared about him. As much as he wanted to believe that his family cared about him, he could never be completely sure. And he kept getting this sense that if he remembered what he had forgotten from that night in January, then he would have proof that what he had always been told was the truth—his family didn't care about him and they were only pretending to because of some ulterior motives.
The next morning, Norway was aware of very little of what was being discussed at the meeting—not that much really was discussed, as the meeting had quickly descended into the usual chaos. His mind was still preoccupied with the thoughts that had consumed him for several days now. He felt like all the thinking he was doing about this was bringing him closer to remembering whatever it was that he forgotten. Somehow he knew that if he could remember what had happened in January that had led to his family being sent away, he would know that truth about whether or not they really cared about him.
All morning he sat there, at the same table as the rest of the family, and in a room with most of the other nations. However, for all that he was aware of anyone in the room he might as well have been alone back in this hotel room or back at the house. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be alone or not, at the moment. Being alone meant that he didn't have to worry about concealing signs of weakness, but it also meant that there would be no one to stop him if he really did start regretting not having gone through that door or having been woken up in time in January.
He had wanted to be left alone, then. He remembered that much. When he had been in the hospital in January, he had wanted his family to leave him alone. He had been being questioned constantly about who had hurt him, and Birger had been determined even then to suspect his family. That first night in the hospital, Birger had told him that his family had left him there—that was why he had been so surprised to see them the next day.
It hadn't been until a couple of days later, that they had left, and Norway could not remember what had happened the last time they had visited him. But he could feel that he was finally close to filling in the gap in his memory. He clearly remembered that he had been in bed and that Denmark had been leaning over him, touching him. That was where the memory began to get confusing. Norway remembered feeling hands on his shoulders, holding him down on the bed. He remembered struggling to get away, but not being successful—those hands would not let go. And he knew what that meant would happen next. And then the final memory fell into place, and he knew what had happened—he remembered the hand brushing against his curl and putting an end to his attempts at resistance. He could not yet remember what had happened after that, but he could guess. And there was the proof—his family was only pretending to care for him so that they could use him the way Scandia had. They had all been in the room, and none of them had done anything to help him.
Once the forgotten memory had fallen into place, Norway became fully aware of his surroundings for the first time that morning, and he realized that room had fallen almost completely silent. Several of the nations present in the room were staring at him. That was when he noticed the dampness on his face, and realized that he was crying. There was only one thought in his mind—he had to get away, he could not stay there at a table surrounded by people who only wanted to take advantage of his weakness. And he was sure that all of the others who were staring at him would want the same thing if they knew what his family knew.
He stood up, using the back of the chair to steady himself against the wave of lightheadedness that swept over him at the too-quick movement. There was no time to wait for it to pass—he needed to get away before anyone could trap him there. As quickly as he could, he crossed the room to the door, ignoring all who called out to him. The only thought on his mind was that he needed to escape before he could be hurt again.
Author's notes:
I'm not sure about how this chapter turned out, as there is barely any dialogue in the entire chapter. That is partially because the chapter needed to be mostly introspective, but I still felt like I should have put more dialogue in it. I actually started this chapter twice before managing to get it turned out halfway decent, though, so I'm not really sure what I could have done differently. I can promise that the next chapter will definitely contain more talking, though.
For anyone who doesn't remember, this chapter refers back to the events that happened at the end of chapter six. Norway had blocked out that memory, because he couldn't handle it at the time. And there's a reason that he recovered it when and how he did, and that will be explained in an upcoming chapter—I will say, though, that it has to do with all the other memories he recovered at the end of the dream. That incident is something that needs to be dealt with before he can begin to trust his family, though. (As well as other incidents that have happened in the past. At this point, Norway only trusts two of the other people in his family, but he's still afraid that one of those people hates him.)
As for the reason that everyone is so worried about making sure that Norway doesn't overdo it, and why he's not supposed to be doing too much walking (or activity in general, really), that is going to be explained early in the next chapter, and has been hinted at and referred to a few other times. It's because of a complication from the physical condition he was in, but no one has wanted to come right out and say what it is—which is the reason the references to it in this chapter are so vague.
The next chapter should be out in a couple of weeks. I am going to be doing Camp Nano next month as a rebel, and working on this story. And I will break the no editing rule so that I can post the next chapter at a reasonable time. (Since I'm already breaking the rules to work on a WIP.)
