I felt insane. I felt crazy, mad, worthless. I'm just some weird ass country that people fear. I knew that I shouldn't do this. I knew that this was bad for me, bad for my mind and for my body. I knew that it was an addiction. I knew that I should stop. But I couldn't. It felt so good.
I took the cold piece of metal into my hand. It was small, and I could barely get a grip on it. I looked at my pale wrist, already coated in day old or older scars. I sliced across my wrist with the razor. I could feel my skin opening. It was a feeling that not many people have felt. It was a very deep cut, it would bleed a lot and last for a while. That's just what it did. Drops of blood beaded up at the incision, one dripping down. That was a lot of blood for me, I normally did not bleed so much that the blood would drip from the cut. The crimson drop fell from my wrist, causing a small red stain on the bed sheet. I cut again, and again, until I had five new cuts. They bleed a lot. I was going very deep today.
I bit my lip. The cool air hit the wound, causing a tingling sensation, one similar to Icy-Hot. However, not even Icy-Hot could create this sort of beautiful pain.
I must really sound insane. Talking of beautiful pain. Perhaps I am insane, I'm not sure. I probably am, in fact. I made another cut, and another, trying to be as deep as a could, each time deeper and deeper.
My eyes went wide, as it seemed to bleed a lot more than I expected it to. Several drops, no, waves, hit the bed sheets. Panic filled my body. Had I gone too deep? Is it possible to go too deep?
I grabbed a dish towel from my nightstand, dabbing at the wounds, trying to get them to stop bleeding. They wouldn't, though. I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. However, when the bleeding finally stopped, I realized how much I had enjoyed going that deep. I tried to go deeper, although I could with a razor like the one I had.
I suddenly heard a blood curdling shriek. I turned to my door, panic filling my heart. There stood Finland, looking terrified.
"Su-san! Oh my goodness, look at how much you've bled!" I dropped the razor, terrified of what Finland would think of me. Finland instantly grabbed it, stuffing it in his pocket so I couldn't get to it again. I cursed under my breath.
"N-Norway!" Finland cried out. I felt tears of embarrassment come to my eyes.
Norway peeked his head into the doorway, his eyes instantly going wide. Behind him followed Denmark and Iceland. I now felt guilty and ashamed. I felt invaded, like I was being judged. Any sense of privacy I previously had was now gone. I was trying not to opening sob in front of them. Denmark didn't have his usual grinning countenance, and Norway didn't have his usual blank expression.
The normally quiet nation that Norway was seemed to completely changed at the mention of mental health. Norway was known for his great acceptance of the mentally ill and his research of mental illness.
The short blonde man walked up to me, his blue eyes having complete concern and kindness in them. He sat by me, gently taking my wrist into his hand. I hissed slightly in pain.
"Sweden..." Norway looked from my wrist to my face. "Why did you do this?" He looked up at Denmark. "Go get the first aid kit." Denmark nodded quickly, hurrying off.
"I...I..." I could barely speak.
"Sweden, why did you do this to yourself?" He asked again, firmly now.
"E-Everybody is afraid of me...I started doing it because I thought...I thought I deserved it. N-Now...Now I enjoy the pain." I couldn't look up to meet any of their faces. I was ashamed, now. I was incredibly embarrassed. I felt like they were all silently judging me, and they were going to hold this against me later.
Norway nodded gently. "How long has this been going on?" Denmark returned, quickly handing the first aid kit to Norway. Norway nodded his thanks to Denmark, then gently opened the box, never keeping his blue eyes off of me.
"Th-Three...years..." Although it had only been three years, I felt like it had been forever. It seemed like I had no life until I began this ritual every night. Finland looked terrified. He was trembling by the door and his eyes were huge. Iceland stood by Finland. His face was relatively blank, but his eyes seemed to cast a sad look. Denmark had an incredibly sad and concerned look.
"Sweden..." Norway said as he cleaned my wounds, making me wince. "Why did you feel like you deserves something so terrible like this?" He looked at my face. When I didn't respond, he asked again, but firmer. "Why?"
"I...I..." Anything I could say at this point would just make me seem crazier. I responded honestly, and quietly, feeling ashamed. "I...I dislike myself because...I-I'm g-gay..." I was terrified that they'd reject me, maybe kick me out of their house. My hands trembled.
Denmark's and Finland's eyes widened in surprise. Iceland didn't seem to respond to this what so ever.
"Hey...Sweden, it's okay if you're gay and stuff. We don't really care." Denmark looked and me. "It doesn't change who you are, really." His voice was unusually calm and quiet.
Norway nodded in agreement, and Finland shakily nodded. Iceland's soft voice responded blankly. "Yeah, we don't mind."
Norway wrapped a bandage around my wrist. "Did you cut anywhere else recently?"
I shook my head. I used to cut at my shoulder and my legs, but they didn't bleed as much as I wanted. So I had moved to my wrist.
"You do understand that we won't allow you to close your door for a while now, right?" Denmark asked.
"And we'll be checking your wrists daily. And if we don't see any new scars on your wrists, we'll check the rest of your body." Norway responded. "You'll also have to see one of my country's well known psychiatrists."
I nodded. I hated that they found out. I wouldn't be able to cut. I would have to find new ways to self harm, new ways to feed my addiction. I was also pleased that they had found out. I was happy that they were so kind, I was happy that they were helping me. I had been waiting for this to happen for three years. I had been waiting for a savior.