literature

GermanyxAbused!ReaderxPrussia - Oh, Sinners (6)

Deviation Actions

Published: Jul 21, 2015

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Literature Text

Oh, sinners, let’s go down,
Down to the valley to pray.

“Okay, now slowly ease forward—”

My body—along with the body of everyone else in the vehicle—was sent forward as the student driver floored the gas pedal. Our teacher subsequently slammed on the brakes on the passenger side. It was probably the fourth time it happened.

“Sorry, teach!” said the classmate at the wheel. “I haven’t been able to practice in a while.”

I had to suppress a sigh. Even I can drive better than her, I thought, and I never get any extra practice.

After approximately five more whiplash-inducing stops, our teacher decided that it was my turn to drive. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I calmly but warily took us down the road behind the school.

We headed back to the classroom around twenty minutes later, just in time for the bell to release us for our next class. I walked briskly down the hall, my joints aching from the cold December weather. My body always hurt more than usual during the winter (and on really hot days, and on stormy days. . .) due to all the beatings Dad gave me.

I took my seat in my next class, half-smiling at the sight of Ludwig already sitting behind me reading another one of his father’s books.

“Whatcha’ reading this time?” I said, leaning back on my stool.

Ludwig looked up and closed the book. “War and Peace,” he replied. “Und before you ask, it is in English.” He raised an eyebrow and said with a small, amused grin, “I see you weren’t severely injured in first period today.”

I couldn’t help but grin back as I groaned, “Seriously. It’s like everyone in that class has the driving skills of a dolphin.”

Ludwig cocked his head while I was on my spiel, apparently trying to examine something. “You’ve been fighting again, haven’t you?”

I blinked, then yanked at the neck of my shirt when I realized he’d seen my bruises from Dad’s beating the previous night. “N-No,” I said, mentally cursing my stammer.

He sighed gruffly. “_____, I thought you stopped fighting after we entered high school. It’s been a year und a half—”

“I know, Luddy,” I blurted. I just wanted him to be quiet now. “I know. I’m a sophomore now, and I should put my big girl panties on and start acting more mature. Blah, blah, blah.”

Ludwig frowned—well, it would be better to say his frown became a deep scowl. But he said nothing, and the teacher finally began class.

“_____, you totally need to come over today after school,” said Gilbert as he swallowed a bite of his lunch. “I just got a new game, und I want you to be player two.”

I smiled apologetically. “Can’t. My parents won’t let me.”

“Oh, come on!” he protested. He nudged his brother. “Bruder, you’re a better voice of reason than I am. You talk to her.”

Ludwig sighed softly, but complied. “We’ve known each other for four years now, und we still have never spent time together outside of school.”

“Not true—” I started.

“Sitting together on the bus doesn’t count.”

I pursed my lips, then shrugged. “I just can’t. My parents are crazy.”

“Your parents suck,” Gilbert remarked.

I let out a small, humorless laugh as I took another bite of my food. “Tell me about it.”

The bus creaked slowly to a stop once again, and Ludwig, Gilbert, and I stepped off. A wave of sharp pain surged through my body when I jumped onto the road, my knees buckling slightly. I recovered, pushing forward before anyone became suspicious. The bus drove away noisily and left a trail of black exhaust fumes behind it.

“You sure you can’t come over?” said Gilbert. “Not even for, like, ten minutes?”

“Sorry,” I answered, gradually stepping away from the brothers and toward my house. “My parents won’t let me go anywhere unless they’ve done some looking into it first.”

He groaned, rubbing his red eyes and waving a hand in defeat. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya’.” I turned and made a beeline for home, but slowed my pace when I realized someone was following me. I grimaced and stopped. “What, Ludwig?”

“Why can’t you come with us for just ten minutes?” he said, his voice brimming with frustration. “Surely your parents aren’t that unreasonable.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah. They are.” I continued quickly down the road—until Ludwig’s large, burly hand clamped down on my wrist. I cringed at the pain; his vise-tight grip, I knew, would only darken the bruises that were already there.

“_____—”

Ludwig paused when I finally turned to face him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry, to fall on him and weep until I lost consciousness. And I was certain he would let me if I did. I probably looked like I wanted to, and that’s what made him shut up.

I clenched my teeth in an attempt to hold back my emotions, and I stepped toward him. “Ludwig,” I said in a very low voice. “I’m sorry, but I need you understand that I can’t. I just can’t.” I waited for him to respond, to release me, to do anything. When he did nothing, I went on, hesitantly. “Ludwig. . .I don’t think I ever said it, but. . .”

Spit it out! I thought. You’re already late getting home!

“Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking, “for being my friend.” My bitter smile grew slightly as I looked into his wide eyes. “Thank you for not leaving me alone. Thank you for not giving up on me. I’m sure one day I’ll be able to tell you. But right now, I just can’t.”

While I spoke, Ludwig’s grasp on me had loosened, and I took the opportunity to back away. I told him, “See you later,” before turning and heading home.

Show me the way,
Good Lord, show me the way.