Hey guys! Sorry I haven't written in a while. I had a lot going on with the end of the year crap at school and all the tests and . . . I hate it. Anyways, this is my first Hetalia fic so I hope you all like it. Oh, and don't ask how I got the name for my character. I guess it was lack of the name being a common one.

Lying in bed with an uber headache, I sighed. My brother was being a total ass again. He always made fun of my bad spelling and said that if I was ever to become a journalist, I had to be able to at least spell "pretty". Who did he think he was, Hiromu Arakawa? I turned over and sighed.

"Stupid Robbi, and his stupid grammar. I can spell. So what if I thought pretty had two e's. Stupid jackass of an older brother. Three years and seven months doesn't give him bragging rights."

Robbi walked past the door to my bedroom.

"JERK!" Robbi kicked the door and I stuck out my tongue, although he wouldn't see anyway.

I sighed. Might as well go to sleep while my headache was at its worst. Ow…

I looked at the sky. Pitch black, no stars or moon. An elderly woman sat across the bay of the stream. She smiled wickedly.

"Do you want out of your life? You wish it so many times."

"Yeah," I was stunned I answered truthfully. I hated people, much less telling them the truth. It was almost as if the woman was pulling the information out of me. Weird.

"I can take you to a world that would accept and love you." She said in a croaky voice. I rolled my eyes.

"I don't want to be loved. I just want people to leave me alone. All these people are morons. I want them to just all go away. Love and acceptance are exactly what I want to get away from. With love comes pity. Got that you ugly old hag?" The air froze. It got cold and sent a chill down my spine. The woman looked angry.

"Fine. I'll send you to a place that would give you hell then," The old lady pulled her hands up and chanted some odd words. I raised an eyebrow. Usually when creepy people start talking in a foreign language that you didn't learn in high school it gets kind of weird.

"Shit,"

It was a dream. I turned on my side. Just a frikin freaky dream, I thought. I'll wake up and I'll see my white ceiling and my brother will be at the breakfast table eating his corn flakes while dad drank his twelfth cup of coffee.

I opened my eyes.

I was wrong.

The ceiling was white, the room much larger, and a four-poster instead of twin bed. I snapped up. No, I thought, I'm still dreaming. I stood up, my dirty blonde hair swinging as I did, and walked out the door. It was a long hallway with stairs a few feet away. I didn't have stairs at my house. It was one story. There were four other doors. Where I had walked out of was to the left of the door at the end of the hall.

I walked down the stairs, running my hands down the smooth oak upholstery. The steps were carpeted in blue with white flecks. Voices sounded from what I guessed was a kitchen. One of the two had a strange accent that sounded oddly familiar. I stalked down the hall to an archway, hiding against the wall.

"England is goin' to freak when he finds out, dude." One said.

"Yes, well, he was never one to take these sorts of things well. Is mister England coming over for a visit today?" the accented man said.

"…..yeah. I have to get the house ready."

"Would you like some tea, sir?"

"Uh, sure. It's down the hall in the cabinet. I forgot to put it up,"

A set of footsteps were coming my way. What was I going to do? I didn't know where the hell I was so I couldn't just find a place to hide. A man with shoulder length brown hair walked out and stared at me. He blinked at me, then turned his head towards the kitchen.

"America, she's up." He said.

America? That's a country though. Another man walked out. He had blondish hair, blue eyes, and glasses and wore a bomber jacket. Wasn't it summer though?

"Oh, hey dude! Glad you're finally awake. You been sleepin' a while." I stared at him. And I thought I had bad grammar.

"I'm America," he stated triumphantly.

"Um, August. Where am I?" I asked. The tall blonde, America (?), laughed.

"My house. We found you passed out at the creek just a mile down."

I stared at him. "Why did you call yourself America?" He stared at me all funny, as if I were crazy for asking that.

"Well, I represent the country of America. This here is Lithuania." He stated mater-of-factedly.

"Wait, your Lithuania?" I said all excited. He nodded. "I knew I recognized that accent. I took Lithuanian as a second language after school so I could get a scholarship to college."

"Oh really?" he said. "Kaip ilgai u imtis Lietuvos? [How long have you taken Lithuanian?]"

"Praejus penkeriums metams. Mano broils mano kad yra kvalia kalba. [Five years. My brother thinks it is a stupid language.]" He laughed.

"Bant jau jis to nesupranta, [At least he won't understand,]" I sighed. I envied him because I couldn't do the contractions thing. It sucked.

"Whoa, what?" America was confused.

"I was just having a conversation with Lithuania. I can also speak Japanese, German, Italian, and even Greek. French was never a strong asset. Lucky for you I'm natively American."

America smiled.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorta," I muttered, embarrassed.

"Wana go to McDonalds?"

I smiled. "Sure."