Author's notes:

Warning! The title of this story is subject to change in the future if I find a more fitting title.

This story contains Abuse and potential self-harm.

Woot it's done! Well at least chapter one is.

So I promised you that there would be another story that followed Red Bracelets. This (as stated) takes place in the same AU as my last long fan fic Red Bracelets. I intend to write this fic so it can be read separately from the other fic. So don't worry you don't have to read the other first, but it is a PruCan story if you're interested. This one is a USUK fic.

I don't own Hetalia it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

Edit: So after leaving this story on hiatus for six months it was odd and entertaining to read it again.

There have been some edits done to the story.

Chapter one

Bruises

The dream played out in a shade of sepia.

"Hay! You're the new kid right?" The enthusiastic blond asked Arthur, "I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He offered out his hand before the other boy could answer.

"Arthur Kirkland, now if you don't mind would you please bugger off?" The boy replied harshly. Arthur had found a place under a tree on the playground with a book in hand to read. He'd hoped he was inconspicuous enough that the other children would leave him alone, but it would seem he wasn't that fortunate.

"You talk funny!" Alfred said laughing as he sat down cross lagged in the mulch in front of the other boy.

"What? You're the one who has the strange manner of speaking!" Arthur retorted, glaring at him.

"Oh well!" Alfred said still laughing. "Let's be friends, 'kay?" he told him offering out his hand again. Arthur timidly took it.

A repetitive beeping over took all other sound and the seen began to fade.

Arthur opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock blaring. Blinking away the dream he sat up slowly and turned off the alarm. He ached from the events of the day before and yet another restless night's sleep that had been plagued with dreams of happier times in his life. The dreams only made him more tired and envious of the innocents of his childhood and the days when he didn't have to feel fear.

He pushed the covers back and grabbed the first pair of clean pants within arm's reach. Over the past few years he had gradually lost interest in what clothes he wore. So long as they matched enough that he didn't look like a slob and they covered the numerous unpleasant bruises on his body he no longer cared what he wore. His fashion sense and his personality had slowly shifted from sophisticated straight A honor student to an educated punk. After his mother remarried she cared less and less for her own son which only encouraged the Brits lack of care for himself.

After sliding in to the snug fitting jeans Arthur glared down at the torn holes in the knees of the dark colored fabric. The dark denim silhouetted the still red and tender bruises on his knees from the fight the night before. He'd come home late as usual in an attempted to avoid Scot, but had been unfortunate enough to encounter him in the foyer. The older man seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on the young Brit. Arthur couldn't fathom why his older step brother would do such a thing or rather he didn't want to think about it.

The blond teen glanced over at the laundry hamper in the corner of his bed room, it was heaped full of clothes. Arthur had hardly been home at all in quite some time so he hadn't had the time nor the desire to do the laundry. He gave up looking for a different pair of pants and found a plain tee and a rather stylish sweater to wear and then put on a pair of boots that had unnecessarily long laces that he wound around his ankles before tying them.

Grabbing his coat off the back of his desk chair and his back pack from the floor he quietly crept down the stairs, hoping to avoid the other man. The sound of someone in the kitchen made him jump. Arthur was about to sneak past the door without being seen, but the smell of eggs and bacon made him stop. He peered around the door casing to see a tall broad shouldered red had at the stove with a spatula in his hand and humming some tune or another.

It had been almost a year since he'd eaten a home cooked meal. Over a year ago his mother and step-father had left on a research trip for his father's next book. They'd left without knowing when they intended to come home. The last year Arthur had spent with his foul tempered older step brother Scott

Scot, the man at the stove turned around to look at him. Arthur jumped. "Food?" He asked pointing at the pan on the stove. Arthur stood completely still in the door way, not responding. "It's not poisoned, promise," He told the younger boy turning back to the counter to scoop the eggs and bacon out on to a plate. Arthur wanted to believe that the food was poisoned and flee before he was forced to eat it, but the food smelled so good, he found it hard to believe. Scot held out the plate to Arthur. He looked up at his elder brother and back at the food. The boy hesitantly reached for it, forcing himself to not shake. He took the plate half expecting to have the hot food thrown in to his face.

He sat down at the table and glanced warily over his shoulder at Scot who had turned back to the stove to prepare his own meal. Arthur scooped a small bite on to his fork and tasted it, though he was still unsure if it was a good idea or not. He was surprised that the food was edible and not just edible, but delicious. It tasted like the food his mother use to make. He scarfed down most of the food and then Scot said something that made him freeze. "So little Artie how does rat poison taste?"

Arthur almost choked and spit the food out. He glared the most menacing look he could muster at the red head to hide his panic. He wouldn't put it past Scot to put poison in his food as much as the older man seemed to want rid of him. Arthur was cursing himself for having been stupid enough to eat his step brother's cooking. The smaller boy rose from his seat at the table. He was so frightened and furious that he was shaking. Scot laughed with a smug grin on his face, which made Arthur even angrier. The small blond hurled the plate and its remaining contents in to the sink. He herd the plate shatter and Scot yell something, but he didn't take the time to register either before darting out the front door.

The walk to school had been brief, but Arthur wished it had been longer. The school doors were still locked. Arthur jerked on the door, but it wouldn't open. He faced away from the door and stared out at the school grounds. There wasn't a soul around and the sun was not yet up. The teen let his mind wander; He daydreamed about a world that he could be happy in. His world was full of fairies and magic. He felt that it was childish, but it gave him an escape from the torment in his everyday life.

It had become harder to escape the things that had happened over the last year. It seemed that his dream world wasn't as safe as it had been when he was a kid. Perhaps it had faded because of the constant reminders Arthur was given that fairies and magic were not real and that he should just grow up. His world may have also faded because the torment had become more physical than it had been in the past.

An enthusiastic voice greeting him drew him out of his dream world. Arthur looked up to be met with blue eyes that were a little too close to his personal space a little too quickly. These stunning sapphire eye were accompany by a set of hands that snaked their way around his thin body.

"Good morning sleepy head. Are you still not awake?" The blue eyed teen asked. Arthur blinked and after a moment he laughed, a forced fake laugh that was real enough to trick the other teen.

"I suppose not, Alfred." Arthur replied letting the taller boy pull him closer. If it had been any one else that had come to close to the Brit he might have floored them, especially after Scot's stunt earlier. Alfred, though he was often annoying he was the only person Arthur felt safe around. He had been the first friend Arthur had made after being forcibly relocated to the states when he was still in Primary School.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked. "You have another bruise on your face... The stairs again?" The last part sounded critical making Arthur tense. Alfred felt him tense and his face became more worried. "Artie?" The smaller blond buried his face in the crook of the taller American's neck so he didn't have to look at him.

"I'm fine I just wasn't paying attention and fell." His reply came out so honest sounding that it scared him. Arthur had grown so use to lying that he almost could believe his own lies. It seemed that Alfred believed him and let the subject drop.

The rest of the school day Arthur spent trying to avoid Alfred without making it obvious he was doing it. He had managed to do well for most of the day, but it was trying. Some part of him questioned why he didn't just tell Alfred everything, but the other part knew why.

When he arrived home it was long past dark and the lights in the house were all out. Arthur hoped that this meant that Scot was still out somewhere or had already gone to sleep. The small teen carefully opened the door with little sound and crept into the house.

"Don't you think staying out late would worry your dear big brother?" Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. Scot was standing in the unlit doorway to the living room holding a half empty bottle of whiskey. By the slurred sarcasm in his speech Arthur could tell the older man was already drunk. The Brit took a few steps back until he met the wall.

"Sorry," The boy mumble, feeling his body go cold. He was wary of what he said when Scot was drunk because it usually didn't end well.

"What?" Scot asked his tone implying that he had heard him he just wanted to hear it again.

"I'm sorry," Arthur repeated more clearly.

"Are ya' now?" The Scotchman asked taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

"Yes, it won't happen again," Arthur answered, regretting the words the moment they slipped from his mouth.

"Ya said that before and here ya are all over again. I think ya need a lesson," the red head told him taking a step forward. Arthur knew what was coming next and his instinct took hold. He bolted for the door, but was pulled back and thrown to the floor by the back of his jacket. He didn't have time to think nor move before a heavy booted foot slammed down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. The small teen frantically gasped for air only to have it knocked from his lungs again. Scot straddled over him and yanked Arthur up by this shirt caller. "Have ya learned your lesson yet?" he demanded.

"This isn't how you teach someone," Arthur retorted through gritted teeth. Why did he have to be so stubborn it never did him good in situations like this? Scot punched Arthur in the ribs with his free hand, earning a scream from the Brit. Arthur could faintly make out the sickening smile on his step-brothers face in the dim light. He was enjoying this.

Once Scot was satisfied he left Arthur lying there on the floor as if it were normal. For them it was normal. Arthur waited until he knew Scot wasn't coming back to slowly stand up and limp his way up the stairs to his room. He was so tired and sore that he didn't bother tending to his wounds. He flopped down on the bed, curled into a ball and fell into a restless sleep.

Author's notes: Thank you for reading this I'd love it if you would give me a review.