I could feel it, all those tensions that had been building over the centuries. I knew at this very moment, with England's gun pointed at my head, that I was probably going to die but I didn't care. I couldn't care, there were only two options left for me, freedom or death. I had prepared myself for the possibly of the latter. I had already said my prayers before I even came here and I hadn't any business to attend to, England took that from me too; making me into a bloody housewife. Though, when I think about, I'll forever regret not saying goodbye to Scotland. I didn't want to tell him where I was going. I knew he would stop me. So I snuck out of the house this morning before he woke. Still, I never told him, in all the years we've been together, how important he was to me and that without him, I would have been lost and I hope he can forgive me but I also understand if he doesn't.
"Say you're sorry!" England's voice was shaky. I began to wonder if he was trying to hold back tears. How dare him! "Just apologize, Ireland and I'll forgive you and then we can all go back to the way things were." He paused as I looked up at him. I looked him square in the eyes. If he was going to kill me I wanted to make damn sure that he saw my face and how I was no longer afraid of him. His eyes though, they looked pathetic. I could see him whimpering inside, so he really is crumbling, but I couldn't think about that either nor feel any pity for him. I spat at him and thought, serves him right. At this point, I hated him; hated him more than dogs and cats hate each other. That hatred fueled me thru all of this; I wanted to make him feel the way I did. Pathetic, useless, defenseless, he treated me like shit and he has to the gull to demand an apology from me!
"No." My voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but those rising tensions grew even more. I grabbed the barrel and shoved it to my forehead. "Things can never go back to the way they were! Don't you see? I hate you!" I let the word sink into him like a sharp knife. "As far as I'm concerned you are no longer the little boy who grew up with me." I paused for a while as I looked him hard in the eye. "You are no longer my brother. So go on, shoot me! Shoot me right now! I'd rather die than apologize to you! Going back under your rule is a fate worse than death to me! So shoot me!" There it was; it all erupted. England's face went pale and you would've thought I had torn out his heart, if he even had one left.
"Fine!" He steadied his gun and cocked it but then it started to shake. His eyes started to tear up and he feel to his knees. "Please, don't make me do this. Don't make me kill my little sister. I beg you, Ireland, please." He dropped the gun and placed his hands on my shoulders with his head hung low. "I'll give you...independence." His voice was riddled in defeat. I couldn't help it I burst into laughter. It almost sounded like I had gone mad, but he just gave up, just like that. After all those years of him beating me and tormenting my people and he just gives up just like that.
"You're giving it to me? I don't think so." England looked at me with confusion and disbelief. My voice went serious. "You won't give it to me, because it's something you can't give to me. I'm taking it back. I'm taking back what you took from me in the first fucking place." I slapped his hands off me. As I stood up, I looked down on him. "You really have fallen you know. You're pathetic now. What the hell happened to you?" Before even waiting for a response I turned and walked away, and I thought about all we, as a family, had been thru and I wondered where we all went wrong. We were better off with the rest the world not knowing about us. We were happy in our little world but it was shattered as soon as Mom disappeared and that stupid bastard left us too, but I suppose there's no reason to blame other people. We make the bed we lie in, and we certainly made a shitty bed.
"Ireland!" I looked up to see Scotland running toward me. His dark red hair messy, he must have been out all this time looking for me. When will he just stop worrying about me? It makes me feel like a nuisance. All I ever wanted growing up was to be like him and Wales. Strong, brave, always ready to defend England and I. "Ireland, are you ok? Are you hurt? Do you need me to carry you?" He held my arms and looked at me, his eyes were so kind. I needed so badly for him to comfort me, and it could only be him because I was the only one you got to see this side of Scotland, his true nature, not as the world paints him and I couldn't help it he always brought out my true nature too and I started to cry. Scotland looked dumbfounded; he was never good with tears, that was always Wales's specialty growing up. Sometimes I wonder why he stays with a crybaby like me. "Ireland, what's wrong?"
"I won." I sniffled.
"You won? You won!" He smiled a big smile at me. "That's great! I was so worried about you." He pushed some of my messy, red hair from my face as his smile grew softer. "But why are you crying if you won. Aren't you happy?"
I wanted to say 'Yes! Yes I'm very happy! Let's go celebrate. Make me something sweet and sing to me like you used to.' Yes, I win a war and at the end of it all I wanted was to hear Scotland sing some ballad about a fairy or something. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to say it, and that just made me cry even more. Without even a word, like he knew instinctively what was wrong, he held me close and we stood there for a while as he hummed softly but soon I felt something slipping from me. I pushed away from Scotland and started to trip backwards.
"Ireland? Ireland, what's wrong?" There was a demanding element to his voice but I couldn't speak. Only stumble more before falling, as the darkness swallowed me up and I hit the ground.