"Sister! Sister!"
The smiling face of her twin called out in Korean, the long flyaway curl bouncing up and down as he ran. A tingle of shock went down her spine. Her brother? Smiling at the sight of her?
Stupid.
She turned back and walked away, ignoring his happy cries.
Then the cries stopped stopped. She looked back.
He was older. And his face was sad. Full of pity.
She flushed angrily. How dare he feel pity for her? How DARE he?
They were clashing again. It was happening almost constantly. Fight after fight. China was on her side, America on his…
Damn them… damn them all…
They were making things worse. So much worse. The feelings of her people were her own. She felt what they all felt in every fiber of her being, from the roots of her hair to the heart throbbing in her chest.
And what they felt was hate. Hate for North Korea. And so that was what Su-dae felt. Hatred for herself.
What is a country supposed to do when they hate themselves?
"Sister... Sister..."
The cries were less happy. More morose. She inclined her head coolly, looking back at her brother. "What?" she snapped.
"Sister. I can help you."
…
Help.
HELP?
"Who the hell… do you think you are?
"You think I WANT your help? You think I NEED it? I can take care of this on my own. You have done nothing but ruin my country further. You and America, and China's crappy parenting. It's all YOUR fault. YOURS."
Shock and hurt spread across his childlike face.
She didn't care.
"Do you know what it's like, to hate yourself? Do you know what it's like to know that your twin is the lucky one, and you're stuck with the short end of the stick?
"I hate myself. I HATE myself, and it's all YOUR fault. YOUR fault for being born, YOUR fault for entering this world."
She didn't care. She didn't care.
He was not her brother. She didn't care how much it hurt him. She WANTED it to hurt. She wanted him to feel the sting and the pain.
She wanted him to take the burden.
"S-sister, that's not-"
"Shut UP. I'm sick of your stupid voice, that fake innocence. I don't want your help. I don't NEED your help. Just mind your own freaking business."
She didn't care.
"You're the lucky one. You don't know what it's like, to have your citizens and government hate you. You don't know what it's like."
"…N-no I don't. Sister, please, I just want to-" A hand on the shoulder.
She cringed away as if burned.
"Don't call me sister. You are no relative of mine. You're not worthy to call me such a thing."
"…"
His hand was still being held in mid-air. Quivering.
"I hate you. I wish you had never been born."
Hurt. Shock.
Pain.
The pain. The sorrow.
The madness of it all.
His expression was so forlorn, so lost, that she felt a twang in her heart.
But.
She didn't care.
She didn't care.
He had better hurt. She wanted him to hurt.
She didn't care.
S…
She didn't care.
The sick pleasure of seeing her brother in pain as he stumbled away- dazed as if he'd been hit by a train- flooded her frail underfed body. He began to run. Tripping and falling, scrabbling through the field on bleeding hands and knees as he tried to get away from her.
Her.
His sister.
She did care.
He was soon out of sight.
The smirk faded.
The hardness fell.
And North Korea began to cry.
It was a little one-shot from the POV of my Hetalia OC, North Korea. I know that a canon North Korea is already on its way, but when I heard that it was going to be bookish and reserved, I was pissed off. To me, that's not North Korea.
I imagined North Korea as bitter and angry. Someone who blames everyone for the state of her country. And since most North Korean citizens hate their country, to me it makes sense that she secretly despises herself.
Tell me what you think. I've never done a short story before. Nor have I tried to do something deep…