Author's note: This is something I wrote in honour of the tragedy that occurred in my town on Saturday June 23rd, 2012. I live in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada, and we are a tiny, not too rich community. At about 2:19 pm Saturday afternoon, the roof of our only mall (which had been showing signs of weakness for years) collapsed, trapping a bunch of people inside as it fell through 2 floors and crushed part of the food court, stairs, and lotto kiosks. There is one fatality confirmed at this point (I'm writing this Tuesday the 26th) and the search is still going on.

I won't go into more details, but if you're interested, you can read or watch on CBC, CTV, Global News, or just Google it. You may have already heard about it.

Also, keep in mind that I'm writing this today. So they are going to discover new things after this fic happens that won't be mentioned in here or may be proven wrong in here.

You're probably bored of my note, but I need to share this. The news don't capture the essence of how badly this impacted my community; the entire city is literally revolting, protesting, grouping in the downtown area to get a better look, crying, mourning, etc. I'm in my room with the windows open and I can hear them from here. The streets are abandoned except for downtown, and you can tell how depressed and gloomy the town is.

The worst part for me is that I was there the day before it happened, standing at the very place that got destroyed, at the exact same time. If I had been there Saturday instead of Friday... I wouldn't be here to write this. Furthermore, my mom was on her way to the mall, and had she gotten there 10 minutes earlier, she would have been caught in it too. It's chilling to think we only survived off pure luck.

The collapse of one mall may not seem like much to those who live in big cities, but this is perhaps the biggest tragedy in Elliot Lake in forever. I'm crying while writing this. It's an extremely hard time to get through, especially knowing someone died and there are still people missing.

Okay, I'm done. I don't own anything but the writing, please excuse any mistakes, and enjoy it... It's depressing T-T

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Pain.

That's all there was.

Burning, blinding pain.

Tears poured from his violet eyes, which were dilated and wide in terror and agony. He was on his knees, clutching at himself, trying to get away from the feeling of hundreds of hearts breaking simultaneously inside of him. Dimly, he could hear someone screaming his name, but he couldn't focus. It was too much.

His people were hurting. Maybe not a big portion of them; hell, not even a hundredth of them. But nonetheless, they were his people, and he could feel their anguish pounding through him, making his blood rush, and chilling him to the bone.

There was an exceptionally horrible burning, tearing feeling in his chest. His hands clutched at it, trying to make it leave, but all they could do was scrabble and claw at the tender skin until it was raw and bloody under his T-shirt, but the pain inside was so bad that he didn't realize. He was already being split open; his heart was breaking in half.

"Matt!"

Who was calling him? He couldn't tell. Dry sobs made his shoulders heave, and his stomach lurched sickeningly from the pain and sorrow piercing him. His vision started to go blurry; black darkened the sides, little fizzy white spots dotted his sight, and his head spun as he tried to fight losing consciousness.

"Matt! Canada!" There were hands shaking him now. "Someone do something!" The voice was panicked, hysteria making it high-pitched. "Help him!"

Somehow, he knew it was getting worse. The people were beginning to panic as they realized the extent of the accident, screaming as they realized that loved ones may be trapped under the wreckage of metal beams and broken cement that had once been the roof of the small Canadian city. The spots in his vision blurred until they mixed in with the black, making a dull, flat gray. His head pounded. His heart felt like it was going to give out. Shivers wracked his body and his head whipped back, his voice letting out a high-pitched scream of absolute agony that rang for the horror-stricken people.

"Get them out!" he cried, falling forward and clutching his head in his hands. His glasses clattered to the ground and his messy wavy hair brushed it as he doubled over, sobbing. "Please… please, no…"

"Matt!" Oh, that was Alfred; he was shaking him, crying as he tried to make Matthew come back to his senses. "Matthew, please!"

"Matthieu?" Someone else was crying. "Hé, répondez-moi!"

A British voice now. "What's happening?"

"Something's happened—he keeps saying 'get them out'—Britain! Turn on the news! Maybe—"

Canada drowned the rest out. The pain was fading from his head, but the burning pain in his chest wouldn't leave. He struggled to breathe, gray vision dotting with sparkly white. "Get them out," he whimpered. Arms tightened around him.

"Get who out? What's wrong, Mattie?"

Canada sobbed, his words becoming a meaningless blur. His chest seared again, earning another scream of grief as the feeling spread. It was like he was combusting from the inside. America's voice became the epitome of panic and his breath started to come quicker.

"He's bleeding—"

"Get his shirt off!" Francis' voice ordered.

Canada felt himself be stripped of his top but couldn't bring himself to care. Something hot and sticky was running down his chest, pooling on the floor beneath him, and America was sobbing and crying to the point where all that could be heard was Matthew's name, over and over.

"Get me a damp cloth," France snapped, and dimly he heard Britain blurt an affirmative and quick footsteps fading away. Canada moaned, his head lolling. This wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him, by far; but the feeling of the collective woe of the citizens and their feeble attempts to stay strong and hold onto each other was making it worse than it should be. They were hurting, and Canada felt all of their rue at once.

It was enough to cut him open, and it did.

The footsteps were rushing back, and then something wet was on his chest, quickly dabbing. It stung and burned, but all Canada could do was sob weakly.

"They're hurting…"

France was quickly murmuring comforting things in French, his hands shaking as he cleaned the wound the best he could with what he had. "Shh, mon cher, calmes-toi." The dabbing stopped, then something ripped, and then was being bound around Canada's chest. Matt's eyes started to close, and France snapped, "Hé, vous deux! He is passing out—Veuillez faire quelque chose au lieu de juste—"

"Shut it frog, no one understands what you're saying!" Britain snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite and was warped with nervousness. His green eyes were watery. "Bloody hell, what do we do?" He grabbed Canada's hand, squeezing it slightly. "Canada? Listen to me, you need to fight it, don't fall asleep."

France's blue eyes were filling with tears too. "Seigneur… Matthieu…"

"Mattie, please, stay awake." America wasn't even trying to keep his hero act up; his brother was hurting too much for him to even try. He remembered the collapse of the twin towers and the pain it had caused him; something similar must be happening in Canada.

"Al…" Canada whispered, feeling weak and shaky. The initial pain was gone, leaving him aching, battered and broken. Shocked. "They're hurting…"

"Who's hurting, Matthew? What's happened?"

"Arthur—look, the news—" France intercepted, his voice sharp.

"A mall collapsed in Elliot Lake, Ontario, blah blah… Citizens… Unknown amount of people trapped, one believed dead— Oh, my god—that's awful—"

Canada started hyperventilating. "Th-there are still p-people in there—dying—! They're dying, people are hurting, get them out—"

"Mattie? It's gonna be okay. Calm down."

But it wouldn't be okay. Canada knew it. The city would eventually move on, and they would rebuild the mall. Life would keep going even after the tragedy that struck the city, but it wouldn't ever be okay. The town would always remember it, and the people who lost loved ones more so. June 23rd would always leave a scar on Ontario, on Canada.

His chest flared once more. Yes…he thought as his mind began to leave and the world began to fade. Weakly, he lifted his hand to brush over the cloth binding the cut on his chest, and he could hear Alfred, Francis and Arthur yelling at him to stay awake. "A scar," he whispered. "Forever."

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French-English Translations:

"Matthieu?" Someone else was crying. "Hé, répondez-moi!" (Matthew? Hey, answer me!)

"Shh, mon cher, calmes-toi." (Shh, my dear, calm yourself.)

"Hé, vous deux!" (Hey, you two!)

"Veuillez faire quelque chose au lieu de juste—" (Please do something instead of just-)

"Seigneur... Matthieu..." (God... Matthew...)

Author's notes: Okay, okay. So the collapse wouldn't be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of Canadian things—but it's on global, the entire world can see it, so it's something big. Not as big as 9/11 like I used in there, or the wars, but still pretty big. I just wanted to convey the pain of my town in this story.

Well… sorry if it sucked, but I wrote this in fifteen minutes, and I was crying the whole time. I knew the person who was proclaimed dead, and it so easily could have been me, my family or one of my friends that got caught in that, and the stress and 'what ifs' are driving me crazy.

I wanted to write something in honour of today, and I just got out my laptop and started typing. This is the product.

Review if you want. It'll cheer me up a bit for a while, but I'm not going to beg like I usually do, lol. The only real point was so that some people know what it feels like rather than just seeing it on the news.