Summary: It would only take one jump to escape.
Rating: K+, just in case
Warnings: AU, sadness, possible genre fail, death
Characters/Pairings: Belgium, mentions of France, Canada, and Netherlands
Disclaimer: If only I owned Hetalia.
Four stories high.
That was where her room was.
Four stories high in their cute giant mansion.
Their cute giant mansion. The one filled with many servants, from cooks to cleaners to gardeners to launderers, with only two real residents, a cute tobacco company owner and his cute little sister, with a cute garden out front.
A cute garden littered with cute little tulips.
She spent her day on her balcony. She could see everything up there, from the garden out front, to the sky above, to all the people.
She loved the people.
There were the people who worked in their cute giant mansion, there were the people that walked by their cute giant mansion, those people that had daily lives they needed to go and fulfill, those people that never spared a passing glance at the cute giant mansion and the girl on the balcony four stories up who watched those cute little people.
There were two exceptions, a couple of strange boys who stopped by and spoke with her. The first, older, with wavy blonde hair and eyes like clear water, with a silky voice that would coo flirtatious words and make her giggle. The second, with bespectacled indigo irises and a sweeter demeanor, who would often try to admonish his companion for saying such inappropriate words to a lady and end up making her laugh. She loved those two strange boys.
She remembered when she first arrived at the mansion. Before, she had lived a simple life with her mother and father. She didn't know what they did, just that they were two loving people who would sometimes come home with black eyes or bloody or scratched or bruised. She didn't know many details about her young life, only that she had been an energetic and happy child.
Her brother had come home only to take her away. She didn't know those details, either, but because she hadn't tried to learn them. Originally, she had been too excited, happy to see her amazing brother that never visited. Then he told her she would be coming home with him and living with him. She had taken that in stride.
Then he told her she would be home schooled.
Then he told her she shouldn't leave the grounds.
If "shouldn't" meant "couldn't".
She had tried. Many times. But she was always stopped. By a lock, by a servant, by her brother, by her own fear.
So she stayed on the balcony four stories high.
Her balcony.
It overlooked an alleyway. If she jumped far enough, then she could land in the alley and not on the fence. It would only take one jump.
She stared at the alleyway. One jump.
Just one jump.
To freedom.
She paused, stunned by fear. What if she left? What would be the consequence?
… But then, how long had it been since she went shopping? Gone to a party? Talked with more than two people at once and make it matter? Had fun?
Been free?
She could see those two strange boys. She could go to the movies and get a job and have a life like the heroes in those books she always read. She could be free.
Freedom. That was the word. That was her word.
That was the word that gave her energy as she stepped up on the balcony edge. That was the word that gave her the strength to make the jump.
Just one jump.
Her funeral was that Monday.
A/N- And there we have it.
The significance behind the day of her funeral is that Monday was the day of November 1, 2010, also known as All Saints' Day, which celebrates the souls who have reached Heaven.
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