AN/: Inspired by a picture I saw on deviantArt.
He had always sat by quiet and passive, had always kept up his happy-go-lucky attitude, had always been the victim. He had always been taken advantage of, beaten up, and tricked. Why was that?
He had never done anything to harm anyone or anything! He didn't even like to squish bugs, preferring to scoop them up and place them outside. So why did everyone else like to hit him and kick him and call him names?
Why did everyone always target him?
"It's because you let them, y'know." the reflection in the mirror sneered at him, and stuck its tongue out. "It's because you never know when to say "stop", do you? You always say "go" ahead or "I don't mind". You just smile and turn the other cheek. Why is that?"
Italy had to admit, his reflection had a point. Why did he always say yes? Why did he always just walk off the beatings or insults he received?
"I...I don't know why." he whispered. The reflection smirked.
"They control you like a puppet. Don't you see? You'll never be anything because you never were anything."
"That's not true! I'm something!" he cried indignantly, starting to get irritated with this conversation. What did a stupid reflection know, anyways?
"Oh?" it raised its eyebrow, shooting him a condescending look. "What are you then?"
"I'm...I'm—"
"Germany's responsibility?" it laughed, evilly. Italy's heart almost broke; a responsibility? Was that really how Germany felt about him? "Or perhaps, Britain's punching bag? The butt of America's jokes? Russia's sex toy? Japan's embarrassment? Your brother's shadow? Your grandfather's regret?"
"N-no...no..."
"Yes, yes. Yes you are. And do you know why? It's because you don't do a thing to change it, do you? Everything I've just said, you've known for probably much longer than I have! So why don't you stand up to them, change, or even try to escape this rut? Is it maybe because you like it?"
"I don't like—"
"Do you like being manipulated, Italy?" a small tear ran down his cheeks, and he hastily wiped it away. He didn't want this...thing to see him cry.
"I don't like it. I hate it, I hate being this way."
"Then why don't you ever take a look at your life and do something about it? Or are you really so desperate to cling to your "friends" that you let them walk all over you?"
"They wouldn't...they don't..."
"Oh, for god's sake, surely you've noticed it! Come on! Why don't they ever trust you with anything more than grunt work? Why do they make you train so hard? Why do they always yell at you or treat you like you're five? It's because they know they can. They like it, and I think you like being treated this way."
"..."
"You love it. You can't get enough. So you stand by, make yourself even more of a victim by not doing anything. And you know what? They notice, and they take advantage of the situation. And it's never ever going to stop."
"SHUT UP!" he punched the mirror as hard as he could, and the reflection before him shattered. Glass shards tinkled to the floor, making sharp pinging noises as they bounced and clattered to the ground. Blood dripped from the cuts in his knuckles.
His breath came in short, angry pants.
"You're wrong..." he whispered, his eyes darkening and his smile growing more and more twisted. "They don't control me. I could easily snap my fingers and kill each of them in a heartbeat. I could have them begging on their knees. I know things about them that no one else does, maybe not even them theirselves."
The cocky reflection said no more. The mirror before him was now nothing more than an empty, wooden frame with a few shape pieces of glass jutting towards the middle.
"I control them."
AN/: I just can't write angst! I'll keep trying though, and maybe one day I'll finally be satisfied with my writing! #LOL, nope
But anyways, thanks for reading! I'd appreciate a review, follow or favorite! Thanks!
MikuLover~
