Here's my more revised version of the first chapter! I wrote this chapter when I was pissed, but you know, I like the way this story is going. I really do. Gog, I'm so... Dark sometimes. Oh well. Hope you enjoy sad stories that may never have a happy ending (or will it?)!
Dear diary,
I'm pissed, and done with life.
Au revoir,
Francois Bonnefoy
France closed his diary for the last time. He was really done with life. His mother raped him about 4, or 5 times a day, he was never fed, and he just, once again, lost someone dear to him. First, Russia had left for war, and never came back. Then his new found love, Celia, died in a car crash. He was just done with everything.
He had no more tears. He was completely emotionless. He had nothing else to live for. France grabbed a very large, very sharp knife from the kitchen. He knew how he was going to kill himself. He was going to stab himself, in multiple places, then just bleed out until death comes to take him away.
France also knew where he wanted to die. He wanted to die in a sunflower field, somewhere he wouldn't be found. So, with the knife in hand, he left the house, and started walking to the one sunflower field he knew of. It was near a big vacant house. No one lived there, and everyone thought it was haunted. To France, the house was beautiful, and was kind of like a palace in his eyes.
Once he was at the outside edge of the field, he looked at the house for the last time of his life, then went to the very middle of all the sunflowers.
The Frenchman stripped his clothes off his body before sitting down to decide where he should stab himself first. He traced a few of his veins with the sharp knife, then made a swift, and deep, cut on his left wrist, right on the vein. He didn't feel any pain.
He, then, took the knife in his left hand. It was shaking a little, but that didn't matter. He made another swift cut on his right wrist, but it wasn't as deep as the cut on his left. That was okay, though. He was thankful that he was bleeding a lot, and he decided to actually stab himself.
The bleeding blonde, and blue eyed man put both of his hands around the knife. He hoped that he had enough energy to stab himself at least two times. He rose the knife above his exposed stomach, and brought the knife down. He gasped, a little blood coming out of his mouth. His hands dropped from the knife handle. He wasn't able to pull it back out to bring it back down again. So he just laid there, slowly bleeding out. Slowly dying.