Raising up every morning facing the bright ray if light was still painful. Seeing the sunset burned harsh memories in to my eyes. Flash backs of being in France. Red flames and loud sobers. The girl who was tied to stake, having the flames drain out her life.
It was the year of 1431, May 30th. Even after hundreds of years its still as clear as glass.
But as soon as I thought I was in the clear, I found some thing new to change my life.
His name was America. He had a ever lasting smile and golden blonde hair. France wanted to take little America under his wing. But so did I, thinking that he could raise me out of my cold state of mind.
Alas, I was broke. Though I thought America and I could make a living together on what we had.
Still in the end France had everything America needed. Along with France being a fantastic cook, and would give America all the love in the world.
Honestly, I pitied France. Me taking his true love's life was some thing I could never live down, yes. But I never understood why he didn't hate me. If France ever were to lash out on me I wouldn't blame him.
Soon little America had a choice between me and France.
I began to cry knowing what I didn't have. But the little bundle of laughter and joy chose me. I assumed it was out of pity for me. Did he know how to pity some one though?
Did he chose me because of my actions that day?
If I acted differently that day would he had chosen France?
I wasn't for sure. But it would just end the same way it did in 1431. Me never living down my decision.
After a few years I felt joyful having little America by my side. Then more years pasted and more happy memories. Smiling and laughter, it never felt so fulfilling. We would have tea parties eating scones. At night we covered each other in a white sheet. Sparkles from the colors of blue to red creating a small sunset. It was a magic show under plain white sheets. So simple, yet it become some thing more. America being there it felt like happiness.
That was a feeling that I thought I had forgotten.
But all good things must come to an end. Soon America had grown up. In the year of 1776 my faith changed once again, leaving me dumbfounded.
"England, I want independence." America said looking down to me as I was sitting at the table drinking tea.
I looked up to meet with his eyes. His face had never been more serous. My eyes widened and my gnaw dropped. My mouth was moving was nothing came out.
"I'm leaving." America said making his way to the door.
I stood up, reaching my hands over to him trying to catch his old worn out brown shirt before he could make his leave.
But failed in the processes. As I looked to his back, all the memories filled with magic and laughter. They slipped away, right through my fingers.
I gripped my chest, I could feel a damp pouring down my cheeks.
He left. I never thought I could loss more than what I had.
"I-I n-never w-want you t-to get I-Independence f-from me." I manged to say under my sobers.
But it was already too late. Too late for anything.
To say sorry, to be forgiven. I may never move on with what I have on my shoulders.
Pity, grief, blame, those were all the things I would now be presented with. I sat down still holding my hand close to my chest.
All I could think about was how this was going to end.
"Another war." I said sighing deeply.
Standing back up, I walked outside, "This sky will turn grey soon." With that all I could do was get ready for the worst.
"I regret nothing."
