Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

OoOoOo

There was no way out, they said. All the doors are locked, and even if you could get out, the harsh winter wouldn't let you leave. Even by attempting to leave, Russia beats and burns and starves you, so why bother when it only brings more pain?

Latvia knew there was more to life than constantly being afraid. He cursed himself whenever he stuttered or whenever he burst into tears – he's stronger than that. At least, he used to be. And he will be, again. He will show Russia that he's not anyone's to have. He will show Lithuania and Estonia that he is better than both of them, that he's not a little kid who needs to be protected.

He starts small. He stands up for Lithuania, despite the man's cries for him to shut up. Latvia's stutter has mysteriously vanished, his eyes dry, as he tells Russia to leave his friend alone. Russia leaves Lithuania, only to beat Latvia senseless. Afterwards, Latvia tells Lithuania and Estonia it was worth it. They scold him, saying he only angered Russia further, saying that he made it worse. Latvia, however, stands by his actions.

Latvia continues to stand up to Russia, taking the beatings in place of Lithuania and Estonia. He stops crying and screaming, turning to swearing and fighting back. He's still scolded by his fellow Baltic nations. He's learned to ignore them. Eventually, they stop trying. Latvia becomes even more isolated in the house – only Russia pays him any mind, and that's only when he's being beaten.

When he's become numb to the physical pain, and can ignore the emotional pain, Latvia begins stealing Russia's vodka for himself. He guzzles down the alcohol and destroys Russia's room – turning over tables, throwing clothing and lamps and pictures. He cares only for his freedom. He accepts his punishment, and the lecture from Lithuania and Estonia that follows. He brushes off their confusion – why is he doing this? Has he gone mad? – and blames it on the vodka, when he knows perfectly well he will repeat the action again, this time sober, this time breaking every dish in the kitchen.

Lithuania and Estonia confront him before he can do anything more. They have him cornered, and Russia isn't there to scare them off. They demand to know what he's thinking. Latvia ignores their pleas to stop and the concern in their eyes. He yells at them, screams at them, calls them cowards and poor excuses for nations. He pushes past their frozen figures and smashes the nearest thing he can find. They don't bother him again.

He's angry at not being taken seriously. He needs to finish this. So he gets up in the middle of the night and sets the curtains and bed sheets on fire, in every room he has access to. He burns himself at some point – he doesn't notice, doesn't care. But then he turns the lighter in his hand, and with the flames dancing behind him, he presses a hot piece of metal – from where? – into his arm. It hurts, but it's escape.

Russia's mad. Latvia can hear him shouting. Lithuania enters the room in a frenzy and takes away the metal. He's yelling – what did you do? What is wrong with you? – but Latvia only stares blankly past him.

"You said there's no way out," Latvia said quietly. "So I'm bringing the 'out' to us." Lithuania grips his arms. It hurts. "I did it for us." Latvia looks to the eldest Baltic. He repeats, louder, "I did it for us."