Alfred ran until his legs grew numb until his muscles screamed and yearned for the warmth of the U.N building he had left. His mind, foggy and distant, was unable to answer his body's cries. Normally, the happy-go-lucky American would have fought back, against the verbal abuse, but to no prevail. He would have the strength that enabled him to throw on his heroic, Hollywood style, smile and laugh it off. These were tough times indeed if America's reliable mask had cracked. It did not only crack, it completely shattered, leaving his true emotions free to the worlds torment and agony. So he ran, from the painful abuse, wild emotions, death filled memories, hell, he was running from his doomed fate and reality.

Happy memories, he remembered a few, before the world grew complicated and technological. Yes, he remembered it all, like each event only happened yesterday. War, so much of it weaved into American history, from the French and Indian war, to his own civil war, to surviving the hell and death filled years that were the World Wars. He had seen so much blood and death, but America could only watch and cry, seeing the bodies pile up. So here he was, the fabled "hero" running from past mistakes, running from himself.

'Why had I been so naïve, so ignorant? Why had I, betrayed everyone who befriended me? They all accepted my apology and grew to forget it. Now their treaties and "friendships" are all lies aren't they?' 'Did anyone notice I disappeared? Yes, I saw England's face. they are probably still blaming me for the worlds problems. They are my fault..' He continually thought, depressing himself further.' It would be better if I was just gone..'

The sapphire, teary eyed, blond American, ran into the rainy unknown, passing vacant streets, and chilly alleyways. He ran until he left the city, leaving the other nations to ponder his disappearance from the, warm conference hall. Alfred's mask was gone; the one person, his sunshine the one thing that helped him face the harsh world, that kept him sane, had joined the others verbal, abusive shouts. They couldn't see the pain that clouded over his eyes, the sleepless nights full of tears, the stress filled days, the agonizing torment, no, they only saw his mask.

And yet, this was only the beginning. Oh, so much more was in store for the young, crying nation.

'Where is that bloody American?!' Arthur thought. Though he would never dare to admit it, he was worried for said nation; Alfred seemed on the verge of tears. 'He wasn't going to cry right? Right, America is strong! He would walk through that door any minute, and continue this bloody meeting. I'm sure of it! I'm sure of it….' He reassured himself.

"Ohonhonhonhonhon, Angleterre~ Worried for l'Amérique?" France inquired leaning to close for comfort near England, causing the 'Gentleman' to shove him. "Sod off you bloody Frog! I am not worried about that annoying git." He replied, though his heart told him otherwise." Honhonhon Angleterre, your tsundere-ness is showing. You are worried~" France teased him further. "Leave me alone you Frog, I am busy. I need to find out where Al-"He stopped himself, slightly blushing.' Oh god, now bloody Francis is going to annoy me for looking for that damn yank...' "Honhonhon you are going to run after him..." "No I am not you bloody Imbecile!, I was say I need to find out where Alfred's notes are, because he probably is going to miss this bloody meeting!" "Oh come now Angleterre, we both know you are worried about him~" "No I am not bloody worried about that annoying prat America, you Frog!" "I can just see the sexual Tension between you two Angleterre~" "What is that implying?!" "Ohonhonhonhonhonhon~ Quoique vous disiez Angleterre, aller à l'Amérique~" "F-F-Fine you Bloody...Annoying...Stupid...Frog..."

America suddenly found himself running in a forgotten field. 'W-why did I come here…this place….' This place had held the memories that made him cry the most. His mother's tribe living in the fields of Native America, being slaughtered, her last lullaby, Britain taking him in and of course the Revolution, they all occurred in fields like this one. His past was now catching up with him. 'Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat. How ironic that is for me.' He thought sadly staring at the overhead clouds with a heavy sigh. He knew that he should go back but he couldn't, he won't, Alfred felt he needed to stay far away from any nation, he wished to cry by himself.

Only this wish would be completely ignored, like all the other ones.

French:

Quoique vous disiez Angleterre, aller à l'Amérique:
Whatever you say England, go find America. (What Google translator says)

Updated with more filler, less OOC, and Detail :3

This took longer than I expected...
Ok I'll admit, I've been reading Depressed!America stories lately...
I have a Request, if you have any ideas, or thoughts about how this story should go;
Please send me some message thingy...I could use any Inspiration you got since I only did this as a simple ramble and
I haven't thought of a bullet-proof plot yet xD

Also Should I change the name to 'Shattered Mask"?

Any feedback would be lovely :3