A/N: Warning – There's character death, with Anorexic Human!America being a victim of suicide. Yeah. (Might have more chapters… idk?)

Disclaimers: Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya; A Poison Tree © William Blake.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Fat. Stupid. Idiot. Those were the only words that Alfred could remember, constantly ringing in his head. Here the American lay on his bed, looking like a walking skeleton. His golden hair had lost its glow, and his skin pale as milk and wrinkled almost like a grape left in the sun to dry.

This was it. The decision he made was life or death, suffering or freedom.

He had chosen freedom.

The blond checked to see if his door was locked before pulling out a sheet of paper from his nightstand, along with a pen. Alfred sighed deeply, before beginning to write.

To whom it may concern,

If you're reading this note, I'm probably dead. Don't worry; I'm in a better place now. I just needed to get away from this world, because you know what? It doesn't need anyone. Not parents, teachers, boys, girls, geniuses, me, or you. If we all died, the Earth will spin and the sun will still shine. I'll just be one less human in this cruel, heartless, wretched spinning ball of mud that we call a planet.

He took a deep breath and winced at what he just wrote before continuing.

You might want to know why I'm doing this, ending it right here right now. It's because I have no choice. I'm tired of the teasing, bullying, harassing, and name calling... everything. I can't do it anymore. For all you that had hurt me, mentally and emotionally, I hope it makes you feel better that I'm doing this. Even though on the outside I would laugh it off, on the inside, I would die a little. I'm actually being the hero for once now.

A tear fell on the paper, smudging some of the fresh ink.

But for all those that are responsible for this (and you know who you are), not even all the words in the world could describe how repulsed I am at you for making me take my own life. You have no right to cry over me. I HATE YOU. But I also thank you for making me see how fat and ugly I was, and for helping me make an effort to fix it. Mom, Dad, Madeline, Sakura, and Alice, don't think the world's going to end because I'll be gone. Like I said before, everything's still gonna be the same, except I won't be here.

Love, Alfred.

Alfred fumbled with the prescription medicine before popping open three bottles. He didn't even know what type of pills they were; he just grabbed them out of the bathroom cabinet at random. He chugged down all the contents of all three containers, using water to help him, and he began to cry. He cried harder than he ever had in his life and it was a miracle no one heard him. For every tear that ran down his face, five new ones came out of his red, swollen eyes. Alfred's emotions were overwhelming, as if everything horrible that had ever happened to him was hitting like a brick.

When the pills kicked in, he began throwing up and knew he was entering the last minutes of life. His stupid, horrible, pathetic excuse of a life. No longer would the world have to deal with him and all his fatness and ugliness. A big chip would be off of everyone's shoulders, no one would probably even notice his death.

Grabbing the knife on the edge of his bed, he slowly carved the words "fat", "stupid", "worthless", and "ugly" onto his arms and legs. The American went as slow as possible to inflict the maximum amount of pain.

This is what you get and what you deserve, said a voice in head as crimson blood dripped down and stained his bed cover. You deserve nothing better and this is all you'll ever be.

Suddenly, pain shot through the blonde's body like a bullet but he didn't dare scream.

He had no right to.

Alfred lay down on his bed for the last time, sobbing quietly in the sheets spotted in red.

He was ready to die.

To end it right then and there.

His vision was blurring, and he knew he was was slipping into the last moments of his life when the door slammed open.

A/N: Wow this was sad… also I've never written death before so I'm testing the waters with this… hopefully it's good! And America sorry for picking on you for this story.

Reviews are like air to me, I NEED them!

And yes there will be a second chapter (◡‿◡✿)

Goodbye for now~