He was my sun. Without him, I could not live. He was bright, beautiful, pure, full of hope. Sometimes, I would get too close to him, his touch burned my skin and the sight of him blinded me. I kept my distance from him to sheild myself from him, and when his light was too bright, I would hide from him. But no matter how far I kept myself, or how well I hid, he would always find me. He would always rise up, brighter and more beautiful than before, and he would always allure me closer to him.
.
I was breathing heavily. The battle had been raging on extensively and I had lost too many men. All those who were willing to fight were dead, and the living were to scared to fight. I had no chance of winning this anymore, but I kept walking onwards. Not yet, I thought to myself. I can't give up now.
As I walked onwards, I stopped. An army of men stood before me, clad in blue uniforms and armed with muskets. A tall man stood in front of them. He raised his musket and pointed it straight at me. His blue eyes bore into me, dark and tainted. He had seen many men die as well, the purity and hapiness that filled him before had all but disappeared. There was no room for it in a cruel world such as this.
The rain was pouring endlessly.
"Alfred," I said. "Stop this madness, please Alfred. I don't want to see more die."
He didn't lower his gun, he kept his glare. "Don't you dare, England," he growled, "Don't you dare call me that. You don't deserve to."
"Alfred, please," I begged. "America, this war is meaningless. Come back here, let's go home," I said, with my hand extended to him, trying to smile, but I couldn't. Not with him looking at me with such hatred.
"No, England. This war isn't meaningless, what you're trying to do right now is," he told me. I looked at him with pain. I didn't want this.
"It's my birthday today, you know? July 4th. It seems almost perfect, England. You asked me before, didn't you? What I wanted for my birthday?" he said, "I remember always telling you that anything would be fine."
I had never forgotten his birthday. I felt around in the pocket of my coat, and gripped a small, wooden box. I let it go, and I slipped my hand out of my pocket. I gritted my teeth and looked straight to America in the eyes. I would not let him win this.
"I know what I want now, England. I want freedom. I am no longer your child, nor am I your little brother. You cannot keep me caged forever, England. Now, I am seceding from you!" he roared.
No. No. No, I thought to myself. I wouldn't allow this. I charged towards him, the bayonet of his musket pointed towards him. "I won't allow it!" I shouted. He blocked my attack with his own musket, but the force sent it flying out of his hands. He looked at me in shock, and I kept my gun pointed at his head, breathless.
"Your incompetence is outsanding, you twat," I panted.
"Fire!" I heard someone shout. Thousands of guns were pointed at me. America continued to look at me, speechless. I held the gun steadily, straight to his head.
"Fucking shit," I swore. I couldn't do this. I lowered my gun, and America stared in shock once more. "There's no way I could shoot you, you fool."
I got down on the ground, my gun falling with me. "God damnit! Why?!" I sobbed. The rain was louder than ever, and I could no longer tell whether the water I felt on my cheeks were tears or the rain.
"I surrender, America. You're independent now," I declared. I could still feel my tears flowing down my face, and I could still feel him staring at me, even as the soldiers around him rejoiced.
"England..." I heard him say. I looked up at America, his eyes were filled with disappointment. He was disappointed with me. "You used to be so great."
And that was when it hit me. I used to be a great man in his eyes, someone he looked up to with respect. What had happened? I thought. I knew I could no longer be someone he would idolize, not after all this. But I did not want him to see me as an enemy either. I could not hate him for wanting to be free, the need for freedom was a natural trait in humans.
I pushed myself up from the ground, and walked feebly towards him. I extended my hand to him, just as I had before. I smiled at him. He looked at me and at the hand I was extending to him. He took it, but it wasn't like before. It wasn't warm, it wasn't eager. He only shook it as a formality.
He did not say anything, he simply walked away, back to his men. I saw how happy he was there, and I knew, that he was gone. My sun, my light. The road ahead of me was now dark and cold. My sun had fallen, and he would not and I rise again, not for me.