Hello, I'm Emma. This is up on the top, but it'll normally be on the bottom. I seen other people who write stories on this site have a little note thing like this at the end and beginning, so I thought "Why not?" and did it. However, it might not be a good idea, especially writing ideas gotten from fanfics aren't usually very good. Oh well. Don't worry, these won't be here for every chapter. Before, I tried writing a Hetalia fan fiction, but after I tried for half a year writing one story, I stopped after struggling to write. Other stories I tried to start also ended up sputtering and dying. Listening to songs helped write this, and even though I wrote it in a nonlinear order for most of it, I'll try to say the songs I listened to when I wrote a specific chapter. For this chapter, I listened to "In a Rainy Town, Balloons Dance with Demons" which is most likely about rape. Speaking of rape, this story has rape that's very implied but never outright stated. Try guessing what fanfic this was inspired by. I'm not exactly sure what is meant by spiritual, but this is about Alfred sort of rebuilding himself, so that's why I chose it. Please tell me what you like about it, or what can be improved. Not "This sucks", but "This sucks because the main character is wangsty because he mentions it every other sentence". You're also free to point out grammar mistakes as well. This will be updated weekly.
Alfred screamed himself awake, starting to rise before very quickly getting back down, covering himself. He had no idea what was out there, just like last time, though at least now he was aware. Peeking his head out of the blanket, like it was imaginary armor for children from pretend dangers, Alfred gingerly looked around. As far as he knew, nothing was there. Alfred wasn't very smart, so it showed what he knew. Not that it mattered; with all his strength, he was still a kid, still weak and fragile. It was adults who protected children from the real dangers. At least he knew that much. Alfred wasn't a child anymore, but he certainly wasn't an adult. Adults knew about the world. That's why they were cautious, and he was dumb. Children were punished for their misbehavior.
… After enough time was spent in a cold sweat anticipating those monsters, he gingerly tilted his head as if that much would set them off. Anything hiding there must be waiting for him to drop his guard. As he slowly sat up, his right arm jerked to protect his neck, and the blanket fell down, exposing him. An old tee shirt and well worn pajama pants. Underwear.
Just clothing. Clothing he had gone to sleep in. He didn't like to sleep naked anymore. He didn't like the feeling of being naked at all. A little dirt, just a few tiny holes near the bottom, and something that smelt like mustard. Blood, semen, and tears weren't on it. Alfred pulled his blanket over to cover himself, but seeing that nothing immediately came for him, he swung his legs off the side of the bed. The dawn's light had just broken through the sky, but it was still too dark to see anything. Even when it was light, he couldn't see the dangers in front of him. The only thing he could see was a mirror reflecting light and shadows, like how a lighthouse showed danger and safety in dark storms. Warning him. He jumped out of the bed, sprinting to the corner. He ran as fast as he could, leaping over a couch and landing with a thud. He slammed into the wall, hearing a loud thud and muffled crunching sounded behind him. Alfred swung his right arm as hard as he could against it, hoping it would incapacitate whatever was following him. He looked behind his back.
The wall now had two holes, one rather tall, and the other skinny and wide. It was his house, he didn't mind. Alfred paused, listening for any noises. Silence. If something was watching him it would have left by now. He looked in the mirror.
There was behind him, and in case there was something to his side, he could glance at mirror so it couldn't take him by surprise. No bruises, cuts, markings or anything else was on him.
Good. Nothing happened. Nothing had ever happened. At least, he thinks nothing happened. It felt like something. He had thought something happened.
Nothing had happened. He turned around.
A closet with partially pushed in folded clothes from the night before, T.V., the messy bed and the mirror were the only things in the room. He picked up a broken piece of wall before settling it down to grab the sofa instead. It was narrow enough that he didn't struggle to see over when held, but it seemed hard to clench, like it just wanted to slide through his hands and escape. Feeling frustration, he found it easier to grip after the sound of tears told him he created a hole through it./p
He could pay for it later. It was probably cheaper than the wall.
Alfred half crept, half ran to the closet. The door was partially open, but if he opened it with hands, and something was in there, it would leave him defenseless to whatever could be in there. If he opened it with his foot it could yank it, causing him to lose his balance, drop the sofa, and be attacked... Since he was already paying for repairs, one more thing couldn't hurt. He pushed the sofa into the closet door right handed, his left providing minimal balance mainly to grab anything he saw as a threat and slam the sofa against, if need be. He stepped back to see what was in it.
Some jackets, some clothes, other things. His clothes from earlier, folded, fallen, smashed by the sofa. The door now had a crack in it, being almost torn in half from the force.
Shivering, he checked his watch. The hanging hands pointed at 5:30.
"Damn this fucking weather. Fucking Germany and his stupid punctuality!" Making him wake up at five in morning, covered in covered cold, making him look at every shadow, scaring him, scaring him. Making him afraid of everything, and for what? What could he possibly gain from this? Knowing what everyone was doing at any time, any place. Was he Orwell!? If someone didn't conform, didn't fit, you would do that to them?! Was it even worth it, with such sadism, just to have others follow your rules?!Satisfaction at hurting him, betraying him, utterly humiliating him by selling his own soul?! Did Germany ever have a soul!? He thought Russia didn't have a soul, though if he did, he must of lost it now. China too. What, apparently helping out and being optimistic were such horrible crimes that it must be corrected in the worst possible way? What fuck were they trying do with that? Why the hell did they do it? Why Russia, and why China? Why Germany, why Prussia? Why Italy? Why Romano? Why Japan or France?
Why England? Of all the people he knew, he never thought Arthur would betray and hurt him. There was only one time he could think of where England even felt homicidal with him, but it a long time ago, and it wasn't to r-
Sex… Sex related acts. Painful, really sex that he never wanted to think about again. To bury deep as a body would be way too shallow. By over a million, with a million bodies in the ground before he would think about it. The wind must be what was making him shiver, even though the window was closed. Alfred picked picked up a couple of pieces of clothing and started to get dressed. Whatever he was going to do today would done completely clothed. The room was cold enough already, even though the window was closed. Even in a modern building, the cold could penetrate through the defenses and leave him shivering.
It wasn't that he was scared though. No matter what you did to him, he would never be afraid... However, it could still scare Canada, it could still frighten Mathew.
And where was he? He should probably call, tell him where he was so he wouldn't worry, and just relax and wait until the world melted into a stew called the past, a series of indecipherable writings written in madness. He looked around his bed for the cell phone, but couldn't the comforting light anywhere. Maybe he could go to Matthew when it got lighter out. Alfred stared at his phone, as if it could command things to change and happen or return them to how they were before. He looked around and saw the faint outline of the window, and he rushed over to the light. Alfred pulled open the window shades. It did nothing; it wasn't even dawn yet.
It would be a long time before it was light again.
