Never Surrender
A/N: My first US/UK fan-fiction! Human names used, other pairings hinted, written in America's point of view. Alfred is a sixteen-year-old boy, his life has been hell since he was born, his father sexually and physically abused him, his mother died giving birth to Matthew. Alfred and Matthew are two years apart in this, so Alfred is a sophomore and Matthew is in eighth grade. Alfred was never mad at Matthew, he just wanted to know his mom before she died. In school he was called names, and picked on for how he looked, how he acted, and for how he was in general. Alfred is gay, and in his school, homophobes are common among the students. Everything is almost too bad to live through, until a young boy named Arthur, who seems to understand his problems, but doesn't wish to be in a high school relationship, moves to his neighborhood. Will Arthur change his mind about a relationship? Warnings: foul language, child molestation, self-harm, and suicide attempts. Couples mentioned: USUK (main), Canada x Ukraine (She's younger in this fan-fiction I guess), Prussia x Hungary, Romano x Spain, Germany x Italy, Russia x China, Greece x Japan, Switzerland x Austria, and possibly more.
I sighed as I packed things in a suitcase, to try to run away, again. Nobody would take me in anyways, I should just give up. I heard a moving truck. Shit, dad's home already? I looked outside, but it wasn't one of my dad's moving trucks, it was a different company. I saw the workers unload the boxes onto the lawn of the house next-door to me. That house has been on sale for the past two years. I told Matthew to stay inside and I went out to see who was moving next-door. I saw the most elegant furniture coming out of the truck; I saw portraits, the most elegant green and gold couch, mirrors, it was amazing. One portrait really intrigued me, it was of a young man, probably around my age, with green eyes and blond hair, his eyebrows were large, but fit him well. He was very handsome, he probably gets all of the luck.
"Mum, I don't want to live in America, I want to go back home to England." I turned around and saw him crossing his arms and staring at his mother angrily.
"I'm sorry dear, but you know that I got a good job offer that I just couldn't refuse, and besides now we don't have to deal with your father anymore." I walked towards them, hoping they wouldn't reject me right away. I tapped the older woman's shoulder.
"E-excuse me, I guess we're neighbors now, I'm Alfred and my little brother is named Matthew, he's inside, and my father should be home soon, so I should get inside, have a nice day, s-sorry to bother you." I stuttered the last few words out and ran inside. I probably scared them off already. I sighed and ran to my room to continue packing before dad got home. I heard the door open and I hid the suitcase in my closet. Nobody ever went in my closet because it was 'haunted,' I didn't believe it of course, nothing ever happened to prove it to be haunted. I went downstairs to greet my father, he reeked of alcohol, and I could tell he just went to a bar after work.
"I'll take your coat father,"
"Don't fucking call me fucking father you faggot, you're not my son, and you never will be," my father slurred.
"Yes sir, what would you like for dinner tonight?"
"Nothing, I already ate you fucking idiot, make something for yourself, worthless fag," I nodded and made myself a sandwich. After I ate I did the dishes and cleaned my place at the table. I prepared myself for a long night of abuse, it was normal for me though, I was used to it even though it was never right. I took off my jacket preparing myself for more 'sessions' he calls it. He coughed and stumbled over to me. He started to slap me and kick me, he then grabbed my vital region, or 'Florida' as I call it, and started to squeeze it. He pushed me down and started stripping me down to my boxers. He ripped my American flag boxers off and started raping me. I felt tears leak through my eyes as I screamed.
"You like that don't you faggot? I bet you do, so I'll go even harder this time." He forced himself into me, ripping open my skin. It went on until he got exhausted.
"You better cry for me, CRY FOR ME NOW YOU LITTLE FAGGOT!" I proceeded to cry, against my own will, knowing it would be like this for the rest of my teenage years.
He smirked, "That's a good boy, I'm going to bed. Goodnight homo-ass-pussy." I walked to my room, tears still dripping down my face, and blood gushing from 'Florida.' I got into my pajamas and continued to pack quietly. I tip toed to Matthew's room and knocked on the door; we had a secret knock so he knew it was I. He opened up and I ran inside quietly.
"Matthew, you must pack for when we get away from this place okay?" He nodded and started packing essentials, like his clothes and hygiene stuff.
"I think dad's still awake, so keep packing and I'm going back to my room, okay Matt?"
"Y-yeah, I understand," he nodded and continued to pack. I went back to my room and grabbed my knife. I started to cut my wrists and I felt the blood seeping out. I fell asleep with dried blood on my arms and a knife in my hands.