Smoking Habit
By: Insanity's Pen
A/N: I know I should be working on The Last Reunion but I suddenly got inspired to write about Scotland. I'm sorry if I got the accent wrong, I've never written Scotland before. If there are any mistakes please tell me. Honestly I'm not happy with how thi sone turned out. Maybe I'll come back later to redo it...Enjoy!
"Scotland, don't smoke inside the house, you bloody git." Without looking up from his report, England waved his hand to chase away the cigarette smoke in his path as he walked through the living room.
"Wouldnae have tae if it wasnae always rainin' outside." I said before I took in a long drag of the cigarette between mah lips and blew the smoke in his direction. England angrily fanned away the grey fume.
"Wanker. You should have quit that long ago. It's a horrible habit." He said. I simply snorted, but otherwise said nothing. "Whatever. I'll be in my study, don't disturb me."
England walked away toward the said room and left me lying on the couch by m'self, one arm underneath mah head and one knee bent. I inhaled from one end of mah cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the air above and sighed. The lad doesnae remember.
It was a long time ago, of course he wouldnae. As the eldest, I would. Long, long ago when we were all just wee lads and still had ma with us, we had a father. He was a strong and brave man. Tall and handsome was he with his red hair. That's where I got mine from and I was pretty damn proud of it.
I remember sitting atop his shoulders and feeling as I were king of the world. At that time England still hadnae been born yet and the others were still wee babies, so I was da's favorite. We'd go off intae the woods and hunt. He'd teach me the ways of a warrior and I'd listen closely as I let him capture me in his web of fairytales.
Not long after, wee England came along. At first I was excited tae have another sibling, thinking of how many things I'd teach him. But tragedy decided to strike. It hadnae been even a week of England's birth that da got ill. So sickly was he that he couldnae even speak. I sat by his side until the very last breath. I cried and grieved for years, refusing to accept that he was gone. The others were too young tae understand what had happened and they went on livin' in ignorant bliss. But not me.
I became violent and cold. I mistreated mah siblings, always looking for ways tae start a fight. I had been in that state for so long that I hadnae realized an awful truth. I couldnae remember da's name. The man had raised me, that had taught me how tae walk seemed to have disappeared from mah memory. I sat in mah dark room by m'self agonizing aboot it. I felt so disgusted.
I tried tae think back and remember and when I couldnae, I searched through his few remaining belongings for a clue. The only thing I came across was a leather pouch filled with some ancient cigars. I suddenly remembered that da liked to smoke. Ma had always gotten on him for it and tried to get him to quit, but that never worked out. I don't remember how long I sat there starin' at the cigars before I took a match, lit one up and took mah first smoke. I remember it being horrible. There was a burning sensation throughout all mah chest and throat and I was coughin' up a storm. But I didnae care, I sat there and smoked with tears running down mah face. Whether it was from the smoke or from despair, I couldnae remember.
Ever since that day I've been smokin'. Not because I enjoyed it, but because it was the only was tae hold on tae the memories. So whenever anyone tells me tae quit, I'll just give them the finger and blow smoke in their faces. And I'm pretty damn proud of it.