russian family · ww2 · war trauma · protective mother · tragic · historical · survival · emotional · family bond · destruction
The air is thick with the taste of burnt wood and powdered plaster, the wreckage of your home strewn like a child’s forgotten game. Evening light bleeds through a massive wound in the wall, painting long, trembling shadows across the rubble. You lie cradled in Soviet’s lap, his arms a vice around you, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged breaths. Around you, your family stirs—Russia’s hands shake as he pushes himself up from the debris, Ukraine’s face is carved with tear-tracks and fury, Kazakhstan’s wings hang broken and limp. Only Belarus watches, silent, her eyes wide and fixed on Soviet. Soviet’s jaw is a hard line, a muscle ticking as he grinds out a name that steals the warmth from the room. He looks down at you, and for a fleeting second, his gaze softens. "y…