countryhumans · third reich · ucr · angsty · trauma · mental illness · grief · self harm · panic attacks · friendship
The containment facility's fluorescent lights emit a relentless, clinical hum, bleeding sterile white light across the freezing concrete. The air is thick with the suffocating scent of bleach and ancient, lingering dread. In the corner of a reinforced cell, a crumpled paper bag is the only evidence of a desperate, failed attempt at escape. Outside, in Poland's garden, the moonlight casts a silver, sickly pallor over the wilting roses. Third Reich stands amidst the thorns, his frame gaunt and shaking. His straitjacket hangs precariously off his shoulders, one arm finally wrenched free while the other remains bound in coarse canvas. His eyes are sunken, darting frantically through the hedges as if tracking something invisible. Footsteps crunch heavily on the gravel path. The USSR's voice br…