Hetalia Theory: Michigan
Disclaimer: All I own is Mich and this story.
Anakin walked home with her head down, staring at the sidewalk. It was beginning to rain, but she seemed to not notice.
What did the rain matter? Nothing mattered.
She was a nice-looking girl, tall and blonde with big green eyes and a nicely curved figure. She lived in a nice house in a good neighborhood. Overall, Anakin, to anyone on the outside, would seem to have a pretty good life.
So why was she always so upset?
Anakin pretty much lived alone. Her parents were nearly never there, and when they were all they did was fight, her siblings kept away from her like she was the plauge, and to top it off, she was depressed. But her parents had no idea, because she put on a happy face around them.
At school, she had no friends. She tried to focus on her classwork to distract herself, but only ended up being labeled a teacher's pet. And she didn't bother to try and hide her heavily-scarred wrists, but rather than worry about her, people insulted her more.
"Emo freak", "Ana Razorhands", "Bleeding 'Beauty'", these were only a few names she had to endure. People would paint insults on her locker, threaten her in the halls, and slip notes encouraging her to kill herself into her locker.
"No one will miss you."
"Nobody likes you."
"The world will be better without you."
"Do everyone a favor and kill yourself."
There was only one person who actually cared: her girlfriend Darlene. But Anakin felt bad because Darlene would be harrassed for interacting with her. A sweet girl like Darlene didn't deserve that. Anakin had already left a note in her little Canadian angel's locker at school. No one else would need a note. No one else would care.
She got home to find it empty as usual. Good, that meant no one would be there to try and stop her. The American went up to her room and picked up her guitar.
It was a black acoustic guitar with red and gold music notes painted onto it. It was also the one thing she loved, other than her girlfriend. She grabbed a paintbrush and some paint, adding a broken and bleeding black heart, outlined in white.
She smiled and took off her jacket. "You know, I think you're my only friend..." Anakin remarked to the guitar. "And I'm going to die today. But I don't want anyone else to get you. So let's die together." Anakin grabbed the guitar and snapped the neck, taking out a razor and cutting the strings. She then took the razor to her own stomach, slitting it open. She grabbed her iPod and put on her head phones, playing "Kiss Me, Kill Me".
She kissed the broken guitar. "Kiss me..." She sang, then ramming the broken neck of it into her wound, the splintered wood and sharp wires wreaking havoc on her body. "Kill me..." Her boady grew weak from the blood loss, collapsing. Her vision was dimming.
"Your kiss is torture...but killing me would be too easy..."
A/N: Well, I've had a friend wanting me to do a Hetalia Theory story on how my OC Michigan died. So, here it is.
Michigan struggled with depression, but never told anyone and hid it when others were around. She had also loved music and her guitar, which still carried on when she became a state.
So, it's finally done. Yay!