Long Road Chapter 29
Sep. 7th, 2012 07:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lothinielflowermaidenWarnings: This chapter does contain an actual depiction of abuse. See previous chapters for other warnings that may apply. There are still a few mentions of what was warned for in the last two chapters, but it is no longer a major plot point.
Summary of Chapters 27 and 28: Anyone who read those chapters can skip this. This is only for people who did not read those chapters because of the subject matter. When Norway left the meeting at the end of Chapter 26, he went up to the roof of the hotel. Although his initial reason for going up there was just to be alone where no one would think to look for him, at some point while he was up there he did start thinking about jumping. Denmark and Sweden both followed him up there, and might have managed to convince him that he wasn't just a possession for them to fight over. They also saved him when he almost fell, and had to work together to do so. No more details about that have been given. Several other nations (including the rest of the family) witnessed what happened from down on the ground.
After returning home from the meeting, Norway was still having trouble dealing with all the memories he had recovered, and he was still thinking about what he had thought on the roof. After realizing that he couldn't deal with those thoughts on his own, he talked to Finland and promised that he started seriously thinking about it he would get professional help.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The rest of the family had not taken the news that Norway was considering suicide well. They had all been understandable panicked at the idea that they might still lose Norway even once he was actually out of danger. None of them had had any ideas of what they could do to help him—the best thing they could think of was to make sure that all of the weapons in the house were locked up where Norway would not be able to get at them. And they began to keep a closer eye on him than they had been doing recently.
Norway noticed how closely they had started watching him, and he could see the worry in their eyes when they looked at him. He felt bad for having caused them that worry, but he could not give them the reassurance that he knew they wanted. He was trying his best to rebuild his defenses, to push all of the memories that he had recovered back behind the wall where they could no longer torment him. But all of his attempts were unsuccessful.
He had started having nightmares again, where various scenes from his childhood replayed themselves in his mind. Sometimes in the dreams, the rest of his family just stood by and watched Scandia torment him. Those dreams were always the worst, as he would have to work to convince himself that it had not happened that way.
Physically at least, Norway was finally starting to recover. He had gained back enough weight so that he no longer looked quite so frail, and between that and the medication he had been placed on, his spells of lightheadedness were becoming less frequent. He was finally strong enough to be able to go outside without help, although someone always accompanied him out just to be on the safe side. And he was only seeing the doctor once a week now, as opposed to every couple days, and he was done with physical therapy.
If only the memories would stop tormenting him, but all of his attempts at burying them remained unsuccessful. And he frequently wondered how much longer he could go on like this. And sometimes, he still found himself thinking of taking the one way out that had occurred to him so far, but he always managed to push those thoughts away. And if there ever came a time when he could no longer to so, then he would keep the promise he had made.
The other Nordics were all getting used to being woken up in the middle of the night by screaming, and they knew that Norway had started having nightmares again. However, these did not seem like the ones he had before—for one thing, they could actually wake him up if it looked like the dream was getting really bad. And, the biggest relief of all, the dreams did not seem to have any kind of physical effect on him, which meant they were not attacks like the earlier nightmares had been. The first few nights they had been really worried, but after that they had realized that it was probably just his mind's way of working through everything.
And as Norway's physical condition continued to improve, even more of their worry lessened. They were no longer constantly afraid of losing him the way they had been at various other times during the past several months. The only worry they had left was over his emotional state, and especially over the knowledge that he had thought about suicide. And they guessed from the way he kept rubbing at the scar on his wrist that he still thought about it sometimes. There wasn't much more they could do to help him with any of the emotional issues besides just be there for him, so that was what they tried their best to do.
By the middle of September, Norway had still not managed to bury any of the memories that he had recovered during that dream. If anything, he was spending more time thinking about them then he had right after he had first awoken from the dream. During those first few weeks, much of his concentration had been on recovering physically—even just getting to the point where he was able to sit in a chair had taken a couple of days, and getting to the point where he could walk short distances, even with help, had taken longer. And all of the physical demands of that part of his recovery had not left him with the energy to deal with the memories. They would sometimes come into his mind at odd moments, but they were always quickly banished. And in those weeks, the sense of peace that he had gotten from knowing how much his mother cared about him had still been fresh enough to make more of a difference.
He still thought a lot about that time with his mother. It was the one part of that dream that it did not completely hurt to remember. And sometimes, he let himself wonder if she really would keep her promise to find a way to see him again. There were sometimes when thinking about these things would give him a sense of peace, sometimes for much as a day, but then the other memories would return.
And one evening, in the middle of September, Norway reached the point where he realized he could no longer deal with everything on his own. He remembered a year ago when he had been completely alone. He had been about halfway through the several months he had spent hiding from his family and anyone else who might look for him. He had not spent that whole time in the cabin where he had eventually been found—moving a few times during those months had been his insurance against being found. Almost every night, his sleep had been disturbed by nightmares and he had never been able to get more than a couple of hours sleep each night. And then, he had almost completely stopped eating; there had been some days when he had been able to force himself to eat something, but those days had been rare. For the last couple weeks before he was found, he hadn't even cared whether or not there was any food in the cabin.
But, at the same time he had felt the need to stay hidden. He did not know where Scandia might be—if he might show up again, outside the dreams. That was a worry that still troubled Norway to this day. He was constantly afraid on some deep level that his father would still find a way to get to him. And it hadn't just been his father he had been worried about encountering. He really had been hiding from the rest of his family then; he had been afraid of what they might do with the knowledge they had received about him, or that they might agree with his father that he was a freak. After all, Iceland had already called him a freak for being able to see creatures that no one else in the family could see—the same creatures that he owed not only his own life to, but also Iceland's life.
Even once he had been back with his family, Norway had still felt like he needed to hide from them. He worried there would be a point where something they would learn would negatively affect their opinions of him, or that they would try to take advantage of his secret. But now, several months had passed, and they were still there for him. And he slowly began to realize that maybe, instead of burying the memories, he needed to bring them out into the open. Maybe he needed to talk to his family. But whenever he was with all of them he could never find the courage to speak about the memories that tormented him.
In the middle of the night the quiet was shattered by a scream from downstairs. This had happened many nights, and the rest of the family was used to waking up in the middle of the night, and running down to Norway's room to awaken him from a nightmare. This night, like too many nights recently, they found him trapped in the grips of another nightmare.
The bedcovers were tangled around him, and he seemed to be struggling to free himself from something. His face was stained with tears, but other than that first scream he did not make any sound. Suddenly, with another loud cry, his eyes opened, and he fell back against the pillows, no longer struggling. A few moments passed, before the nightmare completely faded, and his breathing had returned to normal. Then he looked around to see his family all gathered around him.
"Are you alright, Norja?" Finland asked. He was usually the one who first talked to Norway after one of the dreams, as he was the one that Norway seemed most likely to talk to.
Norway still looked frightened, like he often did when he woke up from a nightmare. The mask that he usually kept over his emotions had eroded so much since Scandia's visit that anyone could see what he was feeling now. He looked around the room once, as if making sure that no one other than the family was there before answering. "Yes." There was something about that answer that did not seem completely truthful.
None of the others were sure what to do. They were afraid that if these nightmares continued at this rate, then Norway might stop sleeping again. And they worried that if that happened he might start doing other things that could have a negative impact on his physical recovery.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
They could all see that Norway hesitated before answering. "I don't know if I can," he said at last. "I'm afraid of what you will think if you know everything."
"It might help if you did talk about. You don't need to deal with this yourself this time. We are all want to help you in any way we can, and if you need to talk, we can listen. Or we can talk alone if you don't feel you can tell everyone." Finland knew that there was a chance that Norway might be more willing to talk to him if the others weren't present, which is why he was surprised at Norway's answer.
"I don't mind if they know," he said, looking around at the others in the room. "If they know the whole truth, then I can stop worrying that they'll hate me when they know the whole story. But I'm afraid if I wait, I'll lose the courage to say any of this."
About a half hour later, they were all gathered in the living room. It was still the middle of the night, but none of them objected to staying up for a while, if they could finally find a way to help Norway deal with all of these memories.
Norway was in what had become his usual spot on the edge of the couch. The frequent nightmares were causing him to lose enough sleep that dark circles were beginning to form around his eyes. Those dark circles stood out against the pallor of his skin and that, coupled with the fact that he was still visibly underweight gave him an appearance of fragility that was painful for the rest of the family to see.
The others all sat as close to the couch as they felt they could. They wanted to be close enough that Norway would know that they were there for him, but at the same time they wanted to avoid making him uncomfortable.
Norway was still gathering the last little bit of courage that he needed in order to speak. And when he did speak, he kept his eyes focused on the floor, not wanting to see the looks that his family might give him as the story unfolded.
"I guess I should start at the beginning," he said after a couple minutes had passed in silence. "Well, maybe not the true beginning, since I think it really started before Mother's death, but the beginning of what I remember. I know that Far left with us with Germania for a few years after Mother died, but I don't remember any of that time. I think I've thought of some things that could be flashes of memory from that time, but most of what I know about it is from hearing you talk about it." He briefly looked up at Denmark and Sweden as he said that part, but his gaze returned to the floor before he continued speaking. "The only memory I have from back then is of the day that Far first came back into our lives. I know you probably remember this too, but . . ." He trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. Of course, his older brothers probably also remembered what had happened that afternoon, since they had been there. But Norway was almost certain that they had not heard what Scandia had said to him.
It had all started simply enough. Just one simple sentence spoken by one of the adults that was present in the camp at that time. "Their father is here, and he wants to see them." With those words, Norway and his brothers had been lead to where their uncle was standing and talking with a man that Norway did not remember every seeing before.
Until those words had been spoken earlier, he had not even realized that he and brothers had parents. All of the other children did, but he did not remember ever having had any. He and his brothers only had their uncle.
The strange man looked somewhat intimidating, and something about the look in his eyes when his gaze fell upon Norway made the boy afraid. Not liking the way this man looked at him, Norway pressed closer against his brother's side—he knew that no one would hurt him when Anko was there.
Norway was very attached to his brother. For as long as he could remember—which wasn't very long, really—Anko had always been there for him. The other older children didn't really want him around as much—he suspected that sometimes even Svi would prefer that he left them alone. But Anko liked having him around. And Anko was the one that he always went to when he was afraid or hurt. So Norway knew that his older brother would protect him now.
Half hidden behind his brother, Norway watched his uncle and the other man talking. The man kept looking at the three of them and Norway felt more uncomfortable every time the man's eyes fell on him. He noticed a difference between the way the man looked at him and the way the man looked his brothers, but he could not say what that difference was. But it made him feel even more afraid of the man. But he knew he was safe as long as he was with his brother.
Norway had to resist the urge to shudder when all of the man's attention turned on him.
"I hadn't expected him to look so much like her," the man said. "Come here, boy, let me get a closer look at you."
Norway did not move, if anything he tried to press even closer to his brother's side. He did not want to get any closer to this man. He didn't like the way the man looked at him.
The man came a couple of steps closer. "You wouldn't remember me, but I'm your father," he said. Although the words were almost gentle, the man did not seem any less frightening. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby, and I just want to get a closer look at you."
Reluctantly, Norway moved from his brother's side. The man seemed nice enough now, and Norway didn't want his older brothers to think he was a baby because he was afraid of this man who claimed to be their father. And he was afraid that they would think he was a coward. And, they were still right there, so it wasn't like he wasn't safe.
"You look so much like your mother," his father said. He knelt down and put his large hand on the boy's small shoulder. "I've been away since shortly after you were born, but now I would like to take you back to live with me. Would you like that?"
Norway looked back towards his brothers. "Anko and Svi?"
"They will stay here with their uncle. He has done a fine job of raising them so far, and I am sure they would prefer to stay here. So, it would be just the two of us."
"No. I want to stay with Anko."
His father's hand tightened on his shoulder, the grip becoming almost painful. He leaned over to whisper into the boy's ear, being careful to keep his voice quiet enough that no one else could hear. "Your uncle is sending you away anyway. Your brothers are the only ones he wants responsibility for. You are just an extra burden to him. You should be glad I'm willing to take you back—otherwise, who knows where you'd end up. It's time you learned your place in this world. You're nothing more than a little freak of nature, and it's your fault that your mother died. And if you don't do as I tell you to, you will regret it." Loud enough for everyone else to hear, the man said, "You will like living with me, son. And it would mean a lot of have you with me—just looking at you, it's almost like seeing your mother again. I'm sure she would want you to live with me."
Norway didn't understand most of what the man had said to him, but he understood enough to know what no one wanted him. His uncle was going to send him away, and he had no one else unless he went with his father. The idea of being all alone was terrifying to him, but so was the idea of going with this man who frightened him so much. But if he was going to be sent away anyway, what choice did he have? His uncle would not want to keep him. So he did not protest when his father picked him up.
It was only as he was being carried away from the only family he had ever known that Norway began to have second thoughts. Because of the way he was being carried, he could look back over his father's shoulder, and he could see his brothers standing there, watching him leave. Suddenly, he did not want to be separated from them—he especially didn't want to leave Anko.
His eyes filled with tears, until he could barely see his brothers through them, and they were getting farther away with every step the man took. "Anko!" he called out to his brother. He kept crying and calling out to his brother until he could no longer see him. Even then, he could not stop crying, although he was no longer calling out.
Only when the others had been left far behind did the man stop, and put him down. As soon as he was released, Norway tried to run back in the direction they had come from, but the man immediately grabbed his arm. Pulling him back and taking hold of both arms, the man shook him. "Stop this immediately! You're acting like a pathetic weakling. Your brother obviously doesn't want you. Why else would he have ignored all that fuss you were making? He's probably ashamed of you, just like I am. Now stop making such a fuss right now!"
Norway still could not stop crying. He tried, but he just couldn't, and he was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe. The struggle to catch his breath just terrified him more, and made him more upset. Then, the man released his arms and slapped him, igniting a new flood of tears.
"You're becoming hysterical," the man said. "Will you stop proving what a pathetic little weakling you are?"
The flood of tears finally tapered off to the occasional sob and then stopped altogether. He had no tears left at that time.
The man started walking again, keeping a tight grip on Norway's arm and pulling him along. All of the crying he had done, had left Norway exhausted, but his father still forced him to walk and did not even set an easy pace for him to keep up with.
Silence fell in the room after Norway had finished recounting the story of how his father had first taken him away. He was not able to look at any of the others, too afraid to see how they might have reacted to his story. He kept his eyes focused firmly on the floor, although he could not see it, as his vision was becoming blurred by tears—just like his last sight of his brothers had been. He did not look up until he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him, and looked up to see Denmark standing behind him.
"Why didn't you answer?" Norway asked. The question had troubled him ever since he had remembered the incident. He didn't think that Scandia had told the truth, but still the memory of screaming for his brother and not receiving any answer hurt.
"I wanted to go after you that day, Nor," Denmark said. He tightened his embrace as much as the back of the couch that still remained between them allowed. "Germania wouldn't let me. He said that you just needed to get used to being with our father—that you were only crying like that because you were in an unfamiliar situation, and that going after you would just make things worse. And at the time, we all thought that our father wanted you with him. I didn't want you to be taken away like that, and I wouldn't have ignored you if I could have done anything."
Those words were a relief, but the memory of the pain he had felt that day was still strong, and he could not stop the tears that still fell from his eyes. He tried to suppress them, the memory of his father's words still fresh in his mind. He was determined not prove his father right by crying over the memory of that day. If he broke down over the beginning of the story, he knew he would be able to tell the later parts where things got worse.
Until they had heard that story, the rest of the family hadn't believed they could be any angrier Scandia than they already were. However, hearing that story proved them wrong. And seeing how upset Norway was by the memory just made it worse. And they knew that the incidents would get worse than what had just been recounted to them.
For the time being, they all just concentrated on trying to comfort Norway—telling him that he hadn't done anything wrong, that he didn't need to be ashamed of being upset. Although none of them said so, they were all kind of wondering if this had anything to do with why Norway always seemed so determined to hide whatever he was feeling; they doubted that incident was the last time that Scandia had punished him for something like that. And seriously what kind of person punished a little kid for crying while being taken away from everything that was a constant in his life.
It was obvious that no more would be recounted that night, though. By the time Norway had calmed down again, he was too worn out to face any more of his past that night. And so, they had helped him back to his room, and hoped that he would be able to get some more rest for what remained of the night.
Author's notes:
The italicized portion of this chapter is a flashback to the event that Norway was recounting to the rest of his family. The next few chapters will contain scenes where he will be telling his family about an incident that happened, and the incident itself will be shown like that.
I don't think there's anything that I need to especially explain for this chapter, but if anyone has any questions, I will try to answer them.
I can't give a definite date for when the next chapter will be posted. School is eating up all my free time lately—if I'm not at school or driving to school or home from school (an hour each way), then I'm doing homework. I'm trying to find time to write in between classes, and I have through chapter 32 completed and just in need of editing, but it's hard to find time for even that.
Please review this chapter. Reviews help remind me that I need to try to make time to get the chapters edited and posted. Sometimes knowing that people are waiting for the next chapter is the only thing that makes me try harder to find writing or editing time.
